Post by tanniyn on Sept 11, 2007 23:33:25 GMT -5
Characters:
Crimson, adult male gray fox
Ash, adult male falcon
Fallen Log
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Amongst the bramble and vegetation of the forest, settled on the soft dirt and fallen leaves from nearby trees, is large log. It is covered in rough gray-brown bark, with a few patches of moss found here and there along its length, rotting at one end. A hole on one side - the entrance to what was perhaps the home of an owl or squirrel - is blocked partly by the ground, but there is enough open space for a small animal to fit. The log is a reminder that all that lives must eventually come to an end. And yet, a tiny flower with delicate gold petals blossoms next to the log; a reminder that all is not lost, however, for when one thing dies, another is born.
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That was /most/ enjoyable. Nothing like having your prey desperately beg for mercy before violently dying to your fangs. Mmmmmm. Crimson licks his lips, savoring the taste of fresh squirrel. Lying up against the log, the dark fur on his back provides a nice bit of camouflage as he finishes up his meal. Ears swivel every once in a while, keeping tabs on anything that might be moving around in this section of the forest. Nothing of importance as of yet, thankfully, leaving him alone to focus on his food. This particular squirrel didn't scream like the last one did, regrettably. Oh well. There's always next time. Maybe if he bit off one of its feet first...
The said squirrel having not provided any...noise...silence reigns for the moment. The sky was clear and had been beckoning to the falcon for a long time. Finally, Ash gave in the clear blue call and took off soaring over the area, relishing the breeze as it swept past with every pump of his wings. As he swoops over where the fox lies below, the falcon gives vent to a loud, happy screech. His wings took him high into the sky until the sight of a tiny creature below catches his interest. A sparrow chirrups distractedly as it hops along, forcing Ash to eye it eagerly. Mmm. With a graceful veer in direction, he glides down to the ground, talons outspread to grab it...drat! And there it goes, directly before the strike. Apparently it had seen something else and startled. Ash regains his lost dignity as he hops on the ground, preening his feathers as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Still...what was it that had frightened the sparrow, if not him?
Sensitive ears pick up the loud screech, and Crimson's first reaction is to freeze, but when he realizes that it's a distant bird-of-prey, he relaxes--slightly--and turns his head to see where it originated from... and in doing so, startles a sparrow. If it weren't for the falcon suddenly appearing seemingly out of nowhere to land on the ground, Crimson wouldn't have given the sparrow another thought. He remains motionless up against the log, waiting for the falcon to fly off. Or.. notice him.
Ash continues preening himself self-consiously for a moment, unaware that he had been spotted. After a time of beautification, the falcon hops up onto a tree branch to get his bearings once more. His bright eyes scan below arrogantly as he attempts to appear regal. If that's possible. Ash emits an almost cough-like sound before waving his wings, preparing for flight. Right as he is about to take off, something catches his eye...again. What can I say?...he's a bird. The falcon blinks down at the unknown thing below him. Hm. "Who is that?" he speaks out fiercely, golden eyes gleaming.
"No one of concern to you, Winged One." The fox's smooth reply is as sudden as his leaping up from his relaxed position onto his paws. "If you were a wolf, however, I would advise you to be /very/ concerned about me." He pauses, eyebrows raising fractionally. "Or if you were.. a /friend/ of wolves, perhaps..." His dark eyes look so innocent, yet they do not match the undisguised malice in his voice. Nor the hint of a seeking question.
The fox's sudden response catches Ash off guard. He regains his (just recently regained) composure and clacks his beak. "Why thick-furred ones fear you, ground dweller?" the bird inquires in his broken speech. "And why does it matter if I am friend of one of them?" He hops slightly forward on his perch as curiosity drives him to hear a response.
The dark eyes look so friendly, so inviting, so gentle. "I kill wolves." His voice is laced with hatred. ".. and friends of wolves." He licks his lips again, remembering the squirrel's look of agony as his fangs ripped into it. A beautiful thing, that. The only thing that could possibly be better would be a wolf dying to his fangs, life slowly bleeding out of it. It would never know what was coming, of course--Crimson is far too small to directly attack any lupine bigger than a juvenile. But he has other ways of killing. Oh yes. More terrifying and glorious than just a simple fight, too. Mmmmmmmm.
The falcon remains still, watching the fox with an expressionless face as if unsure if the small animal was just joking...but, he isn't? The bird finally narrows his eyes in a bemused expression. If birds could smile, he would be. How cute, this little guy wants to be a warrior, eh? "You /kill/ them, small one? Why you want to kill.. wooves, eh?" he asks, attempting to pronounce the strange word.
The gray fox's thin black lips part to reveal a fanged snarl. "I hate them more than you can possibly imagine. The only thing I desire in life is to bleed the life out of them, one by one." Wolves have /always/ been responsible for everything bad that's happened to him. Most recently, it was that young scum of wolf, Larkspur, who caused the death of one of his best friends. The look of horror on the lynx's face as he disappeared under the river's surface left /no/ doubt in Crimson's mind: Larkspur must DIE. Dark eyes look innocently at the falcon. "Their blood sings to me, as does their death." His voice, once again, doesn't match his eyes at all: all the bitterness and hatred and venom he feels toward the lupine species is poured into his words. He repeats his simple statement of fact from earlier: "I kill wolves."
A whole minute passes by silently after the fox finishes. Ash stands, transfixed and watching the ferocious creature. He looks...so innocent...could he possibly be honestly saying this for real? And really...could such a small animal afford to horde such a terrible passion against the wolves, want to kill them, when in all honesty they don't have to hardly try at all, and they could destroy him? Ash blinks owlishly at the fox. "You kill wooves? You are too small!" It doesn't make sense!
"Have you ever tasted wolf blood, Winged One?" the fox asks, voice taking on an almost eager tone. His bushy, dark gray-colored tail sweeps briefly from one side to the other. "You say that I am too small. I say that you judge me too quickly." Could that have been.. /mocking/ .. in his voice? "Tell me, Winged One, do you ever sleep? Do you ever rest somewhere for a while, and close your eyes?"
The falcon finally seems to awaken from his silent, stunned mood. He blinks down at the fox haughtily, replying, "I have not had woof blood, Sly One. Your words are smooth like water over rocks, but I trust you not." Ash shuffles his feathers awkwardly, shifting to the other foot on the branch, relapsing into a silence and refusing to answer the fox's last question. Nasty little thing.
The fox silently regards the falcon, not saying anything for a long time. Finally, he sits down on his haunches. "You are wise not to trust me, Winged One. Especially if you are indeed a friend of wolves." His words are indeed smooth, though they carry a slight hint of menace. He's not afraid of this falcon by any means, and knows that he can surely bleed it of life, should the necessity arise. His dark eyes gaze at the bird-of-prey with a calm--almost friendly--gaze.
"Why you hate wooves so.." he nearly says 'small one', "..Dark Eyes?" The thought of being up in the tree provides some comfort to the bird, yet those /eyes/... he shudders visibly. "And I said not if I made friend with wooves." Ash cocks his head to the side, eyeing the fox scrutinizingly.
Those dark eyes stare at the falcon, trying to unnerve the bird. Crimson had discovered long ago that something about his gaze seemed to make others uncomfortable for some reason; for obvious reasons he rather liked that discovery, and worked hard on perfecting it to his advantage. "Why I kill wolves is none of your concern, Winged One." He hesitates for a brief moment, then corrects himself, "Well.. I will say that the young wolf whose blood I am currently seeking was responsible for the death of one of my.. friends." His hackles raise ever-so-slightly. "She will die soon enough."
Ash narrows his eyes, trying to force his gaze away from those murderous eyes. Unable to, he quickly finds, he blinks and attempts a short cough-like sound to break the icy silence. He longs to ask how a fox, as small as this one is, could possibly harm a wolf, even a 'young' one, as he explained. A gnawing feeling in his stomach decided against it. "What woof do you hunt, Dark-eyed One?"
"Larkspur." The name is all but spat in disgust, with no attempt to hide the sheer bitterness and loathing that Crimson feels for that particular young wolf. "From what I have been told, she is of the Lazuli pack." His slight snarl turns into.. a smile? A happy smile. Or worse, a friendly smile. The gray fox looks almost like he's about to announce something joyous that happened today. Instead his voice is angry.. almost violent. "She will /die/ as soon as I find her--this I swear."
The bird eyes the fox for a moment, contemplating this information. Larkspur...that's definitely the Lazuli child. The one that had been spoken of and fretted over so very often in the period of the past few weeks. The pup that had been taken in by a -- he sneers at the ridiculous thought -- cougar. What had possessed that cougar to care for a young wolf, even -return it-, was beyond his understanding. Not that he had any particular issue against either creature; it just was so very curious. But no matter. "I know of the young wolf." Ash's eyes gleam as he purposefully adds, "Not friend, I know -of- it." If the silly little pup was being hunting, or even ended up killed by this mad creature, it meant little to the falcon.
A glint enters the fox's dark eyes. "Do you now?" he asks softly, dangerously. "Tell me of this.. Larkspur. What is she like? Where does she play at? Who guards her?" Crimson /must/ find out. "And how /do/ you know of her?" He's pretty sure the falcon is telling the truth; /he's/ never heard of a bird-of-prey allying itself with a wolf--such birds are far too arrogant and independent for any such sort of relationship. But if this falcon knows /of/ Larkspur... he could be a valuable source of information.
Completely oblivious to the obvious danger he would be placing Larkspur in, Ash answers the fox honestly. "The woof is young, she is soft. Makes noise when scared." Well, to Ash it makes perfect sense what he's trying to portray. The pup is young, and gets frightened easily, and getting frightened forces her to cry. Makes sense. "She is home, play at home." The bird pauses to preen his feathers as he ponders further. "Guard? Parents and group wooves." Ash glances around quickly along the ground, as if nervous that a wolf was nearby as he blabbed these things. Once satisfied, he adds, "It difficult not to hear of her, Dark Eyes. News is everywhere when she disappeared."
Young and scared. Guarded by her parents and pack members. It's just as Crimson figured it would be. Excellent. He /really/ dislikes it when unexpected situations and circumstances arise and throw off his plans. Assuming that Larkspur has settled back into her normal life having now returned from whatever foolishness that caused her to leave in the first place, she should be a plenty easy target. Crimson nods his gratitude to the falcon with a mumured, "Thank you, Winged One."
Ash continues watching the sly creature warily, waving his wings out awkwardly to help provide some activity in the tense converstation...tense, from his standpoint. He clacks his beak at the fox, finally asking that question, the answer to which he had been dying to know. "Welcome, Dark Eyes. Now.." he tilts his head towards the fox, "..what is your name?" It could be quite fun to 'play' with the young female wolf, Larkspur, and taunt her about that 'fierce animal' that now knows -all- about her and wants to kill her. After all, Larkspur's blood /sings/ to the fox. O.o
Dark Eyes. Interesting.. in Crimson's memory, that's the first time he's ever been called that. Sounds fitting. Tilting his head slightly to the side, and still giving the falcon that eerily friendly smile, the gray fox states simply, "I am Crimson, named after the color of fresh wolf blood." Suddenly he's whirled around and padding back to his original resting spot by the log, having plenty to think over and plan out. And, perhaps, he'll catch another squirrel to enjoy, making sure this time to allow for /plenty/ of time for the squirrel to scream. Yes, that's what he'll do. It won't be the same as having Lark's blood bleed out of her during her last few agonizing moments of life, but he can always imagine. Yes... her blood will be shed. Soon.
Crimson, adult male gray fox
Ash, adult male falcon
Fallen Log
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Amongst the bramble and vegetation of the forest, settled on the soft dirt and fallen leaves from nearby trees, is large log. It is covered in rough gray-brown bark, with a few patches of moss found here and there along its length, rotting at one end. A hole on one side - the entrance to what was perhaps the home of an owl or squirrel - is blocked partly by the ground, but there is enough open space for a small animal to fit. The log is a reminder that all that lives must eventually come to an end. And yet, a tiny flower with delicate gold petals blossoms next to the log; a reminder that all is not lost, however, for when one thing dies, another is born.
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That was /most/ enjoyable. Nothing like having your prey desperately beg for mercy before violently dying to your fangs. Mmmmmm. Crimson licks his lips, savoring the taste of fresh squirrel. Lying up against the log, the dark fur on his back provides a nice bit of camouflage as he finishes up his meal. Ears swivel every once in a while, keeping tabs on anything that might be moving around in this section of the forest. Nothing of importance as of yet, thankfully, leaving him alone to focus on his food. This particular squirrel didn't scream like the last one did, regrettably. Oh well. There's always next time. Maybe if he bit off one of its feet first...
The said squirrel having not provided any...noise...silence reigns for the moment. The sky was clear and had been beckoning to the falcon for a long time. Finally, Ash gave in the clear blue call and took off soaring over the area, relishing the breeze as it swept past with every pump of his wings. As he swoops over where the fox lies below, the falcon gives vent to a loud, happy screech. His wings took him high into the sky until the sight of a tiny creature below catches his interest. A sparrow chirrups distractedly as it hops along, forcing Ash to eye it eagerly. Mmm. With a graceful veer in direction, he glides down to the ground, talons outspread to grab it...drat! And there it goes, directly before the strike. Apparently it had seen something else and startled. Ash regains his lost dignity as he hops on the ground, preening his feathers as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Still...what was it that had frightened the sparrow, if not him?
Sensitive ears pick up the loud screech, and Crimson's first reaction is to freeze, but when he realizes that it's a distant bird-of-prey, he relaxes--slightly--and turns his head to see where it originated from... and in doing so, startles a sparrow. If it weren't for the falcon suddenly appearing seemingly out of nowhere to land on the ground, Crimson wouldn't have given the sparrow another thought. He remains motionless up against the log, waiting for the falcon to fly off. Or.. notice him.
Ash continues preening himself self-consiously for a moment, unaware that he had been spotted. After a time of beautification, the falcon hops up onto a tree branch to get his bearings once more. His bright eyes scan below arrogantly as he attempts to appear regal. If that's possible. Ash emits an almost cough-like sound before waving his wings, preparing for flight. Right as he is about to take off, something catches his eye...again. What can I say?...he's a bird. The falcon blinks down at the unknown thing below him. Hm. "Who is that?" he speaks out fiercely, golden eyes gleaming.
"No one of concern to you, Winged One." The fox's smooth reply is as sudden as his leaping up from his relaxed position onto his paws. "If you were a wolf, however, I would advise you to be /very/ concerned about me." He pauses, eyebrows raising fractionally. "Or if you were.. a /friend/ of wolves, perhaps..." His dark eyes look so innocent, yet they do not match the undisguised malice in his voice. Nor the hint of a seeking question.
The fox's sudden response catches Ash off guard. He regains his (just recently regained) composure and clacks his beak. "Why thick-furred ones fear you, ground dweller?" the bird inquires in his broken speech. "And why does it matter if I am friend of one of them?" He hops slightly forward on his perch as curiosity drives him to hear a response.
The dark eyes look so friendly, so inviting, so gentle. "I kill wolves." His voice is laced with hatred. ".. and friends of wolves." He licks his lips again, remembering the squirrel's look of agony as his fangs ripped into it. A beautiful thing, that. The only thing that could possibly be better would be a wolf dying to his fangs, life slowly bleeding out of it. It would never know what was coming, of course--Crimson is far too small to directly attack any lupine bigger than a juvenile. But he has other ways of killing. Oh yes. More terrifying and glorious than just a simple fight, too. Mmmmmmmm.
The falcon remains still, watching the fox with an expressionless face as if unsure if the small animal was just joking...but, he isn't? The bird finally narrows his eyes in a bemused expression. If birds could smile, he would be. How cute, this little guy wants to be a warrior, eh? "You /kill/ them, small one? Why you want to kill.. wooves, eh?" he asks, attempting to pronounce the strange word.
The gray fox's thin black lips part to reveal a fanged snarl. "I hate them more than you can possibly imagine. The only thing I desire in life is to bleed the life out of them, one by one." Wolves have /always/ been responsible for everything bad that's happened to him. Most recently, it was that young scum of wolf, Larkspur, who caused the death of one of his best friends. The look of horror on the lynx's face as he disappeared under the river's surface left /no/ doubt in Crimson's mind: Larkspur must DIE. Dark eyes look innocently at the falcon. "Their blood sings to me, as does their death." His voice, once again, doesn't match his eyes at all: all the bitterness and hatred and venom he feels toward the lupine species is poured into his words. He repeats his simple statement of fact from earlier: "I kill wolves."
A whole minute passes by silently after the fox finishes. Ash stands, transfixed and watching the ferocious creature. He looks...so innocent...could he possibly be honestly saying this for real? And really...could such a small animal afford to horde such a terrible passion against the wolves, want to kill them, when in all honesty they don't have to hardly try at all, and they could destroy him? Ash blinks owlishly at the fox. "You kill wooves? You are too small!" It doesn't make sense!
"Have you ever tasted wolf blood, Winged One?" the fox asks, voice taking on an almost eager tone. His bushy, dark gray-colored tail sweeps briefly from one side to the other. "You say that I am too small. I say that you judge me too quickly." Could that have been.. /mocking/ .. in his voice? "Tell me, Winged One, do you ever sleep? Do you ever rest somewhere for a while, and close your eyes?"
The falcon finally seems to awaken from his silent, stunned mood. He blinks down at the fox haughtily, replying, "I have not had woof blood, Sly One. Your words are smooth like water over rocks, but I trust you not." Ash shuffles his feathers awkwardly, shifting to the other foot on the branch, relapsing into a silence and refusing to answer the fox's last question. Nasty little thing.
The fox silently regards the falcon, not saying anything for a long time. Finally, he sits down on his haunches. "You are wise not to trust me, Winged One. Especially if you are indeed a friend of wolves." His words are indeed smooth, though they carry a slight hint of menace. He's not afraid of this falcon by any means, and knows that he can surely bleed it of life, should the necessity arise. His dark eyes gaze at the bird-of-prey with a calm--almost friendly--gaze.
"Why you hate wooves so.." he nearly says 'small one', "..Dark Eyes?" The thought of being up in the tree provides some comfort to the bird, yet those /eyes/... he shudders visibly. "And I said not if I made friend with wooves." Ash cocks his head to the side, eyeing the fox scrutinizingly.
Those dark eyes stare at the falcon, trying to unnerve the bird. Crimson had discovered long ago that something about his gaze seemed to make others uncomfortable for some reason; for obvious reasons he rather liked that discovery, and worked hard on perfecting it to his advantage. "Why I kill wolves is none of your concern, Winged One." He hesitates for a brief moment, then corrects himself, "Well.. I will say that the young wolf whose blood I am currently seeking was responsible for the death of one of my.. friends." His hackles raise ever-so-slightly. "She will die soon enough."
Ash narrows his eyes, trying to force his gaze away from those murderous eyes. Unable to, he quickly finds, he blinks and attempts a short cough-like sound to break the icy silence. He longs to ask how a fox, as small as this one is, could possibly harm a wolf, even a 'young' one, as he explained. A gnawing feeling in his stomach decided against it. "What woof do you hunt, Dark-eyed One?"
"Larkspur." The name is all but spat in disgust, with no attempt to hide the sheer bitterness and loathing that Crimson feels for that particular young wolf. "From what I have been told, she is of the Lazuli pack." His slight snarl turns into.. a smile? A happy smile. Or worse, a friendly smile. The gray fox looks almost like he's about to announce something joyous that happened today. Instead his voice is angry.. almost violent. "She will /die/ as soon as I find her--this I swear."
The bird eyes the fox for a moment, contemplating this information. Larkspur...that's definitely the Lazuli child. The one that had been spoken of and fretted over so very often in the period of the past few weeks. The pup that had been taken in by a -- he sneers at the ridiculous thought -- cougar. What had possessed that cougar to care for a young wolf, even -return it-, was beyond his understanding. Not that he had any particular issue against either creature; it just was so very curious. But no matter. "I know of the young wolf." Ash's eyes gleam as he purposefully adds, "Not friend, I know -of- it." If the silly little pup was being hunting, or even ended up killed by this mad creature, it meant little to the falcon.
A glint enters the fox's dark eyes. "Do you now?" he asks softly, dangerously. "Tell me of this.. Larkspur. What is she like? Where does she play at? Who guards her?" Crimson /must/ find out. "And how /do/ you know of her?" He's pretty sure the falcon is telling the truth; /he's/ never heard of a bird-of-prey allying itself with a wolf--such birds are far too arrogant and independent for any such sort of relationship. But if this falcon knows /of/ Larkspur... he could be a valuable source of information.
Completely oblivious to the obvious danger he would be placing Larkspur in, Ash answers the fox honestly. "The woof is young, she is soft. Makes noise when scared." Well, to Ash it makes perfect sense what he's trying to portray. The pup is young, and gets frightened easily, and getting frightened forces her to cry. Makes sense. "She is home, play at home." The bird pauses to preen his feathers as he ponders further. "Guard? Parents and group wooves." Ash glances around quickly along the ground, as if nervous that a wolf was nearby as he blabbed these things. Once satisfied, he adds, "It difficult not to hear of her, Dark Eyes. News is everywhere when she disappeared."
Young and scared. Guarded by her parents and pack members. It's just as Crimson figured it would be. Excellent. He /really/ dislikes it when unexpected situations and circumstances arise and throw off his plans. Assuming that Larkspur has settled back into her normal life having now returned from whatever foolishness that caused her to leave in the first place, she should be a plenty easy target. Crimson nods his gratitude to the falcon with a mumured, "Thank you, Winged One."
Ash continues watching the sly creature warily, waving his wings out awkwardly to help provide some activity in the tense converstation...tense, from his standpoint. He clacks his beak at the fox, finally asking that question, the answer to which he had been dying to know. "Welcome, Dark Eyes. Now.." he tilts his head towards the fox, "..what is your name?" It could be quite fun to 'play' with the young female wolf, Larkspur, and taunt her about that 'fierce animal' that now knows -all- about her and wants to kill her. After all, Larkspur's blood /sings/ to the fox. O.o
Dark Eyes. Interesting.. in Crimson's memory, that's the first time he's ever been called that. Sounds fitting. Tilting his head slightly to the side, and still giving the falcon that eerily friendly smile, the gray fox states simply, "I am Crimson, named after the color of fresh wolf blood." Suddenly he's whirled around and padding back to his original resting spot by the log, having plenty to think over and plan out. And, perhaps, he'll catch another squirrel to enjoy, making sure this time to allow for /plenty/ of time for the squirrel to scream. Yes, that's what he'll do. It won't be the same as having Lark's blood bleed out of her during her last few agonizing moments of life, but he can always imagine. Yes... her blood will be shed. Soon.