Post by donoma on Jul 29, 2007 21:54:48 GMT -5
It was a good, fun rp. 
Characters involved: Ama, adult cougress. Donoma, Elder Shaman Cougress of Amaranth.
Summary: Ama receives her marking to become an official member of Amaranth, and a little bit of advice from the cooky old Shaman.
Setting: The Steppes, early evening.
Ah, back again. She's been hovering around the territory since she met Paoro something like a week ago, and since then has been seeking... someone. Ama's yellow-green eyes flash faintly as she looks towards the evening sun. Where is Shasta? Oh well. The little cub has been missing for a little bit. But Ama isn't overly concerned. She's probably all right, wherever she is. Slow, steady pawsteps carry the cougaress up to the steppe cautiously. She's supposed to find someone named Donoma. Where in the world should she look next? She's looked everywhere and encountered no one ... of her own species, at least...
Donoma, in her own right, was exactly easily accessible by those who only wished to seek her. But to everyone else, she was a old, batty cougar that was no easier to find than she was to understand. Today was an exception. Donoma just happened to feel like being found, and plopped her grey rear-end right in the path of the young cougress. Well, perhaps not -right- on her path, but the red elder lion was hard to miss in a sea of greens and tans. Today she was without her aide, but that was no matter. Donoma, without even needing to speak to her daughter, was well aware there were two new members of the clan in need of proper marking. So she would be in need of making more red dye, so that was what she was doing with the red clays of the Steppes. Beneath a large tree, shaded from the waning sunlight, she sat with a pile of dried clay, and a hollowed out turtle shell full of water.
...what does it matter? She's not even sure she'll /like/ it here. And if that happens? ...she'll leave. She's not really sure why she said 'yes' to begin with. Maybe the idea of even /trying/ is foolish? In any case, Ama's still here. That must mean something. Pawsteps falter and Ama comes to an abrupt halt as she suddenly notices an elderly cougar in her path. The pelt is a rich red color -- unusual. But not ugly. Ears slick back a little uncertainly. And yet, she has a feeling... is this the one she's looking for? "Hello," she says softly, trying to look small and non-threatening.
Donoma doesn't look up from her work as she begins to knead the pile of dried clay with the pads of her large, strong paws. She was slightly oversized for a cougar, but that would be due to the Incan cougar blood in her veins. Reguardless of this fact, at first it doesn't seem the Shaman notices this new face. But after a few moments silence, she gives a grunt, "It's about time, have a seat," she replies with a voice that was sharp and gruff with age, but very grandmotherly...which also came with age.
She's never been very sure of herself around other cougars. Maybe it's her upbringing? She lived with a family of four -- including her mother -- and she never was the favorite... and that probably accounts for her response to the command. It's like this feline /knew/ she was coming... this must be Donoma. Surely shamaness's were like that -- all-knowing. Or something. Ama's maw opens and closes as she tries to say more and fails. Then, with a sharp nod, she pads a little closer before sitting down a few paces away. Awkward pause as she settles, tail wrapping absently around her paws, then, "I-I'm Ama."
Donoma gives a short, cracked chuckle, looking up, "Ama, yes? Is that who you are?" Passing her tongue over her frosted maw, Donoma eases further back onto her haunches as she pinches the pile of claw between her forepaws, lifts it, and drops it into the turtle shell. "Haha, hmm...toiling for nothing, tsk. If only they were permanent, what's a small cut to the flesh?" Murmuring to herself, she rises to all fours, her attention turning to the young cougar before her, "Ah, but I know who you are. Comfortable here in the lands of Amaranth darling?" There was a glint to Donoma's eyes as she shared a sweeping, toothy smile with Ama and began to circle about her, taking in her form.
Ama blinks slowly, uncertainly. Though she doubts Donoma needs confirmation for her identity once more, the younger cougaress nods slowly, her eyes watching the shamaness curiously. All the more reason to be curious as the red puma murmurs something to herself -- something Ama isn't sure she understands. That's when the elder cougar rises. Ama tenses slightly. Elderly cougar or not, the red feline could probably still be dangerous. But Ama remains rooted to her place, though the tip of her tail twitches slightly. "You... know who I am?" ...shamaness, indeed! "They are... comfortable, yes," she replies softly, voice never raising any higher. Ama's yellow-green eyes follow the shamaness uncertainly still. She's more or less forgotten Shasta... at least for the moment. "...then you know why I'm here, as well?"
The response was instantaneous, "Of course I do, do you?" She continues to circle Ama, her eyes calculating the young one's figure and physique. She was a strong, stout cougar, there were no doubts there. Where Donoma held doubts was in the young one's spirit. She seemed unsure and undecided.
Ama's a little unnerved by Donoma's behavior. No. Not a /little/ unnerved. A /lot/ unnerved. She's never experienced a meeting with anyone like this before. But she forces herself to remain calm -- relatively speaking -- outwardly. She feels like an intruder. Like she's come here uninvited, and now she's awaiting judgement. It's an awful feeling that makes her want to sink into the ground. And that question. Why would she be...? She averts her gaze briefly, thinking. "I... think so," she answers, trying to sound sure, though her voice is as soft as ever.
Donoma picks up on this sense of insecurity because the young cougar just begins to exude it. She found this flattering and mildly amusing. "Think so?" She clucks her tongue, stopping herself at Ama's front, "You younglings are either never sure of anything, or too sure of everything." Shaking her head, she turns to sit at her turtle shell again, smushing the glop-mixture around with her paw, "What misgivings have you?"
Now Ama turns her eyes away, and leaves them focused on the ground. Should she be embarrassed? Upset? ...it's a little of both, actually as she lifts her eyes to Donoma. She wants to make some retort -- anything -- but it was always Demi who made the smart-alec comments in her family. Not her. Ama was never special. After a moment, the younger cougaress straightens a little more, trying to look more dignified and less frightened or nervous. The question takes Ama a moment to think. It's not that she doesn't know what it is that bothers her, it's just, she's worried about wording it in a way that won't entirely offend the other cougar. If it will offend at all. ...in the end, she decides to be blunt, however, leaving all her thinking for nothing. "It's just, a... 'tribe' of cougars living together? It seems... unnatural. All I knew growing up was cougars living alone or with their /small/ families. Wolves live in packs. Not cougars," she says, trying to keep that dislike of wolves from her voice.
There was a vague moment when it might've looked like Donoma was insulted, but that was fleeting in of itself. Only a second afterwards an amused expression began to play across her face, followed by a cracking sneer and then a rather creepy cackle. She laughed for what seemed several minutes, a sour, sharp laugh that penetrated the chest and normally made others leap. Those who knew Donoma normally flinched at that laugh because they knew nothing good would ever follow it. But finally the elder's cackling dwindles into a small hiccough of a chuckle, "My my my, but you -do- have point, child. We are a silly, strange bunch aren't we?" Her eyes full of mirth, she dives back into her process of readying the dye, "Think of it how I think of it. A giant, dysfunctional family with a father who's had a stick in his rear for years, and a mother who's picked up and popped out far too many chitluns for her own good. It's a cause for a rise of strange and new emotions that even I cannot explain, but I cope by pretending Age has gotten the better of me. There's nothing wrong with this picture aside from the blatant and obvious." She turns again to look at Ama, regarding her with a keen gaze of green.
Oh. Oh she's /done it now!/ The expression lasts only a moment -- a moment in which Ama cannot properly identify the emotion, but is certain it isn't good... for it changes abruptly again. And then the old puma /laughs./ No, not a laugh, really. More like... a cackle. A chill runs down Ama's spine, causing her fur to stand on end against her own will. She can't stay rooted to her seat this time, however. She's on her paws quickly, taking a few uncertain steps back. Maybe coming to Amaranth was a mistake. Maybe the protection of numbers, the idea of a more permanent home, isn't worth it after all? Then the shamaness speaks. Ama's ears tilt back slightly, then forward to listen. She remains silent during this time, and after a few moments, she steps forward and settles down again. When Donoma finishes, Ama remains silent for a long moment. Then, hesitantly, a smile blooms on her maw, and she slowly nods. She can handle disfunctional families. When it's put /that/ way, she feels a little better about it aall. "I... cannot say this /will/ be the thing for me," she says softly. "But I'm willing to try," she murmurs. "...and though I'm not sure /what/ it is I feel over all this, I'm willing to give it a try." Does that count for anything? Does it make up for the certainty she lacks?
"Hmmm," Donoma ponders for a moment, itching at her white chin and smearing the dye on it at the same time, she didn't seem to care, "you will learn shortly if it is for you. Until then, keep an open mind. Now-" sloshing a full paw into the red mix, the elder cougar motions for Ama to move closer, "-the markings."
Ama feels a little better, having spoken her thoughts -- her willingness to do what she's unsure of -- even though she's not entirely certain why. She's going to see this through. She's not going back on what she's said. So she relaxes, eyes brightening a little with amusement as Donoma's paw moves to her chin. She nods, taking the advice to heart. She tries. ...exception, probably being wolves. Then again, she /has/ managed to speak to Bodhi, and apologize for her behavior towards him. That's not really an 'open mind', but whatever. "All right," Ama nods, feeling a little uncertain once more. What should she do? "...but first. This'll... come out if I... want it to, right?" Ama's eyes are clouded with uncertainty again. "I mean... if I choose not to stay." Awkward.
Awkwardness was not a concern of Donoma. The elder cougar had no use for askwardness, she'd lived too long to see it put to any good. "Unfortunately yes," her maw pulls into a dour scowl as she sloshes the mixture a bit more violently than needed, spilling some across the ground, "It will only temporarily dye your fur. You'll notice several members of Amaranth are in need of re-dying for their markings will have faded. However-" Donoma raises her paw, scrutinizing Ama's closest shoulder, "you will need to stay out of the rain and water for at least one sun, so that the dye can set. Otherwise it will wash right off, and I'll have to make more dye, and you'll have to deal with my foul attitude. And we don't want that, now do we?" Donoma flashes a faux sweet smile, clipping her fangs at Ama before drawing a dye-soaked toe across her shoulder in a thin line.
Ama winces at the noticably... violent motion. But her confidence seems to return with the confirmation. A slow nod, and Ama's ready. Only after a thin line of crimson has been drawn along her shoulder -- to which she flicks an ear; it feels strange and she's not used to being touched by others -- does she choose to speak again. "I'll remember that," she replies evenly, her voice as soft as ever. "...I'll make sure that it won't get wet." The deed is done. And now Ama feels a small sense of accomplishment, despite what she thinks of this tribe she's now a part of... another moment and she's on her paws. "Thank you." It's all she can say. And she's really not sure why. Maybe she's conquered something? A fear? After all... she had, over the last day or two been seriously considering fleeing the territory, away and far. But she can't do that now, and somehow she's glad she's been stopped from doing so.
When Donoma is finished drawing the marking over Ama's shoulder, she takes a step back to admire her craftsmanship. Each Amaranth cougar's marking was personalized by Donoma, a mark intended to represent the inner spirit of each. Paoro's was a soft, curved marking with strong, thick lines to show her gentle but firm nature. Her mates was squarish and sharp, with fat, decisive lines to show his strong, bullish, and pugnacious way of leading. Ama's were different from the many other markings Donoma had given in that each line was smooth, thin, and wandering. They showed that though the cougar had a path, she wasn't sure where it led. In time, if Ama chose to stay, her marking would most likely change. "That's a good girl," Donoma replies, wiping her paw in the grass, "my daughter may tell you different, but if you ever need anything, you find Old Granny Oma and I'll see what I can do for you. And remind little Shasta that she is due for her own markings."
Ama twists her head to look upon the crimson that marks her shoulder. It's different from Paoro's. And yet... the cougaress finds it hard to be suprised. It's not a bad thing to look at -- kind of pretty, really -- she could get used to it. Her yellow-green eyes return to Donoma. Ama can't help but smile a little... 'a good girl?' It feels nice to be... praised, even in such a way as this. She never got it much at home. She dips her head slightly, then grins, her fangs revealed. "I will," she answers, her grin becoming a smile once more. Tail curling slightly, the cougaress dips her head. It's time to take her leave. Maybe she can sit in the evening sun and let the dye dry a little. Then she'll go hunting. Yeah. That's it. She'll go hunting... but before she goes, she looks at Donoma. "Farewell, and good hunting."
"Off you go," Donoma shoos her off with a switch of her dye-covered paw. The Shamaness watches the younger cougar take her leave, and makes her own exit. Were Ama to look back even once, she would find the area vacated of it's elder cougar, leaving nothing but the empty turtle shell that glowed a soft umber red in the setting sun. Shaman's had a way of disappearing like that.
Characters involved: Ama, adult cougress. Donoma, Elder Shaman Cougress of Amaranth.
Summary: Ama receives her marking to become an official member of Amaranth, and a little bit of advice from the cooky old Shaman.
Setting: The Steppes, early evening.
Ah, back again. She's been hovering around the territory since she met Paoro something like a week ago, and since then has been seeking... someone. Ama's yellow-green eyes flash faintly as she looks towards the evening sun. Where is Shasta? Oh well. The little cub has been missing for a little bit. But Ama isn't overly concerned. She's probably all right, wherever she is. Slow, steady pawsteps carry the cougaress up to the steppe cautiously. She's supposed to find someone named Donoma. Where in the world should she look next? She's looked everywhere and encountered no one ... of her own species, at least...
Donoma, in her own right, was exactly easily accessible by those who only wished to seek her. But to everyone else, she was a old, batty cougar that was no easier to find than she was to understand. Today was an exception. Donoma just happened to feel like being found, and plopped her grey rear-end right in the path of the young cougress. Well, perhaps not -right- on her path, but the red elder lion was hard to miss in a sea of greens and tans. Today she was without her aide, but that was no matter. Donoma, without even needing to speak to her daughter, was well aware there were two new members of the clan in need of proper marking. So she would be in need of making more red dye, so that was what she was doing with the red clays of the Steppes. Beneath a large tree, shaded from the waning sunlight, she sat with a pile of dried clay, and a hollowed out turtle shell full of water.
...what does it matter? She's not even sure she'll /like/ it here. And if that happens? ...she'll leave. She's not really sure why she said 'yes' to begin with. Maybe the idea of even /trying/ is foolish? In any case, Ama's still here. That must mean something. Pawsteps falter and Ama comes to an abrupt halt as she suddenly notices an elderly cougar in her path. The pelt is a rich red color -- unusual. But not ugly. Ears slick back a little uncertainly. And yet, she has a feeling... is this the one she's looking for? "Hello," she says softly, trying to look small and non-threatening.
Donoma doesn't look up from her work as she begins to knead the pile of dried clay with the pads of her large, strong paws. She was slightly oversized for a cougar, but that would be due to the Incan cougar blood in her veins. Reguardless of this fact, at first it doesn't seem the Shaman notices this new face. But after a few moments silence, she gives a grunt, "It's about time, have a seat," she replies with a voice that was sharp and gruff with age, but very grandmotherly...which also came with age.
She's never been very sure of herself around other cougars. Maybe it's her upbringing? She lived with a family of four -- including her mother -- and she never was the favorite... and that probably accounts for her response to the command. It's like this feline /knew/ she was coming... this must be Donoma. Surely shamaness's were like that -- all-knowing. Or something. Ama's maw opens and closes as she tries to say more and fails. Then, with a sharp nod, she pads a little closer before sitting down a few paces away. Awkward pause as she settles, tail wrapping absently around her paws, then, "I-I'm Ama."
Donoma gives a short, cracked chuckle, looking up, "Ama, yes? Is that who you are?" Passing her tongue over her frosted maw, Donoma eases further back onto her haunches as she pinches the pile of claw between her forepaws, lifts it, and drops it into the turtle shell. "Haha, hmm...toiling for nothing, tsk. If only they were permanent, what's a small cut to the flesh?" Murmuring to herself, she rises to all fours, her attention turning to the young cougar before her, "Ah, but I know who you are. Comfortable here in the lands of Amaranth darling?" There was a glint to Donoma's eyes as she shared a sweeping, toothy smile with Ama and began to circle about her, taking in her form.
Ama blinks slowly, uncertainly. Though she doubts Donoma needs confirmation for her identity once more, the younger cougaress nods slowly, her eyes watching the shamaness curiously. All the more reason to be curious as the red puma murmurs something to herself -- something Ama isn't sure she understands. That's when the elder cougar rises. Ama tenses slightly. Elderly cougar or not, the red feline could probably still be dangerous. But Ama remains rooted to her place, though the tip of her tail twitches slightly. "You... know who I am?" ...shamaness, indeed! "They are... comfortable, yes," she replies softly, voice never raising any higher. Ama's yellow-green eyes follow the shamaness uncertainly still. She's more or less forgotten Shasta... at least for the moment. "...then you know why I'm here, as well?"
The response was instantaneous, "Of course I do, do you?" She continues to circle Ama, her eyes calculating the young one's figure and physique. She was a strong, stout cougar, there were no doubts there. Where Donoma held doubts was in the young one's spirit. She seemed unsure and undecided.
Ama's a little unnerved by Donoma's behavior. No. Not a /little/ unnerved. A /lot/ unnerved. She's never experienced a meeting with anyone like this before. But she forces herself to remain calm -- relatively speaking -- outwardly. She feels like an intruder. Like she's come here uninvited, and now she's awaiting judgement. It's an awful feeling that makes her want to sink into the ground. And that question. Why would she be...? She averts her gaze briefly, thinking. "I... think so," she answers, trying to sound sure, though her voice is as soft as ever.
Donoma picks up on this sense of insecurity because the young cougar just begins to exude it. She found this flattering and mildly amusing. "Think so?" She clucks her tongue, stopping herself at Ama's front, "You younglings are either never sure of anything, or too sure of everything." Shaking her head, she turns to sit at her turtle shell again, smushing the glop-mixture around with her paw, "What misgivings have you?"
Now Ama turns her eyes away, and leaves them focused on the ground. Should she be embarrassed? Upset? ...it's a little of both, actually as she lifts her eyes to Donoma. She wants to make some retort -- anything -- but it was always Demi who made the smart-alec comments in her family. Not her. Ama was never special. After a moment, the younger cougaress straightens a little more, trying to look more dignified and less frightened or nervous. The question takes Ama a moment to think. It's not that she doesn't know what it is that bothers her, it's just, she's worried about wording it in a way that won't entirely offend the other cougar. If it will offend at all. ...in the end, she decides to be blunt, however, leaving all her thinking for nothing. "It's just, a... 'tribe' of cougars living together? It seems... unnatural. All I knew growing up was cougars living alone or with their /small/ families. Wolves live in packs. Not cougars," she says, trying to keep that dislike of wolves from her voice.
There was a vague moment when it might've looked like Donoma was insulted, but that was fleeting in of itself. Only a second afterwards an amused expression began to play across her face, followed by a cracking sneer and then a rather creepy cackle. She laughed for what seemed several minutes, a sour, sharp laugh that penetrated the chest and normally made others leap. Those who knew Donoma normally flinched at that laugh because they knew nothing good would ever follow it. But finally the elder's cackling dwindles into a small hiccough of a chuckle, "My my my, but you -do- have point, child. We are a silly, strange bunch aren't we?" Her eyes full of mirth, she dives back into her process of readying the dye, "Think of it how I think of it. A giant, dysfunctional family with a father who's had a stick in his rear for years, and a mother who's picked up and popped out far too many chitluns for her own good. It's a cause for a rise of strange and new emotions that even I cannot explain, but I cope by pretending Age has gotten the better of me. There's nothing wrong with this picture aside from the blatant and obvious." She turns again to look at Ama, regarding her with a keen gaze of green.
Oh. Oh she's /done it now!/ The expression lasts only a moment -- a moment in which Ama cannot properly identify the emotion, but is certain it isn't good... for it changes abruptly again. And then the old puma /laughs./ No, not a laugh, really. More like... a cackle. A chill runs down Ama's spine, causing her fur to stand on end against her own will. She can't stay rooted to her seat this time, however. She's on her paws quickly, taking a few uncertain steps back. Maybe coming to Amaranth was a mistake. Maybe the protection of numbers, the idea of a more permanent home, isn't worth it after all? Then the shamaness speaks. Ama's ears tilt back slightly, then forward to listen. She remains silent during this time, and after a few moments, she steps forward and settles down again. When Donoma finishes, Ama remains silent for a long moment. Then, hesitantly, a smile blooms on her maw, and she slowly nods. She can handle disfunctional families. When it's put /that/ way, she feels a little better about it aall. "I... cannot say this /will/ be the thing for me," she says softly. "But I'm willing to try," she murmurs. "...and though I'm not sure /what/ it is I feel over all this, I'm willing to give it a try." Does that count for anything? Does it make up for the certainty she lacks?
"Hmmm," Donoma ponders for a moment, itching at her white chin and smearing the dye on it at the same time, she didn't seem to care, "you will learn shortly if it is for you. Until then, keep an open mind. Now-" sloshing a full paw into the red mix, the elder cougar motions for Ama to move closer, "-the markings."
Ama feels a little better, having spoken her thoughts -- her willingness to do what she's unsure of -- even though she's not entirely certain why. She's going to see this through. She's not going back on what she's said. So she relaxes, eyes brightening a little with amusement as Donoma's paw moves to her chin. She nods, taking the advice to heart. She tries. ...exception, probably being wolves. Then again, she /has/ managed to speak to Bodhi, and apologize for her behavior towards him. That's not really an 'open mind', but whatever. "All right," Ama nods, feeling a little uncertain once more. What should she do? "...but first. This'll... come out if I... want it to, right?" Ama's eyes are clouded with uncertainty again. "I mean... if I choose not to stay." Awkward.
Awkwardness was not a concern of Donoma. The elder cougar had no use for askwardness, she'd lived too long to see it put to any good. "Unfortunately yes," her maw pulls into a dour scowl as she sloshes the mixture a bit more violently than needed, spilling some across the ground, "It will only temporarily dye your fur. You'll notice several members of Amaranth are in need of re-dying for their markings will have faded. However-" Donoma raises her paw, scrutinizing Ama's closest shoulder, "you will need to stay out of the rain and water for at least one sun, so that the dye can set. Otherwise it will wash right off, and I'll have to make more dye, and you'll have to deal with my foul attitude. And we don't want that, now do we?" Donoma flashes a faux sweet smile, clipping her fangs at Ama before drawing a dye-soaked toe across her shoulder in a thin line.
Ama winces at the noticably... violent motion. But her confidence seems to return with the confirmation. A slow nod, and Ama's ready. Only after a thin line of crimson has been drawn along her shoulder -- to which she flicks an ear; it feels strange and she's not used to being touched by others -- does she choose to speak again. "I'll remember that," she replies evenly, her voice as soft as ever. "...I'll make sure that it won't get wet." The deed is done. And now Ama feels a small sense of accomplishment, despite what she thinks of this tribe she's now a part of... another moment and she's on her paws. "Thank you." It's all she can say. And she's really not sure why. Maybe she's conquered something? A fear? After all... she had, over the last day or two been seriously considering fleeing the territory, away and far. But she can't do that now, and somehow she's glad she's been stopped from doing so.
When Donoma is finished drawing the marking over Ama's shoulder, she takes a step back to admire her craftsmanship. Each Amaranth cougar's marking was personalized by Donoma, a mark intended to represent the inner spirit of each. Paoro's was a soft, curved marking with strong, thick lines to show her gentle but firm nature. Her mates was squarish and sharp, with fat, decisive lines to show his strong, bullish, and pugnacious way of leading. Ama's were different from the many other markings Donoma had given in that each line was smooth, thin, and wandering. They showed that though the cougar had a path, she wasn't sure where it led. In time, if Ama chose to stay, her marking would most likely change. "That's a good girl," Donoma replies, wiping her paw in the grass, "my daughter may tell you different, but if you ever need anything, you find Old Granny Oma and I'll see what I can do for you. And remind little Shasta that she is due for her own markings."
Ama twists her head to look upon the crimson that marks her shoulder. It's different from Paoro's. And yet... the cougaress finds it hard to be suprised. It's not a bad thing to look at -- kind of pretty, really -- she could get used to it. Her yellow-green eyes return to Donoma. Ama can't help but smile a little... 'a good girl?' It feels nice to be... praised, even in such a way as this. She never got it much at home. She dips her head slightly, then grins, her fangs revealed. "I will," she answers, her grin becoming a smile once more. Tail curling slightly, the cougaress dips her head. It's time to take her leave. Maybe she can sit in the evening sun and let the dye dry a little. Then she'll go hunting. Yeah. That's it. She'll go hunting... but before she goes, she looks at Donoma. "Farewell, and good hunting."
"Off you go," Donoma shoos her off with a switch of her dye-covered paw. The Shamaness watches the younger cougar take her leave, and makes her own exit. Were Ama to look back even once, she would find the area vacated of it's elder cougar, leaving nothing but the empty turtle shell that glowed a soft umber red in the setting sun. Shaman's had a way of disappearing like that.