Post by bracken on Feb 7, 2009 1:58:38 GMT -5
Burrowed Meadow
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At first glance, this portion of the meadow appears much the same as the rest of it, lush, green grass growing densely, flowing softly with the breeze until it takes on the appearance of waves upon the ocean's surface. This is when everything truly appears hidden and only those who know the area can avoid the holes that are concealed by the grasses. Once the wind stops blowing, which doesn't seem to occur here that often, the holes among the grasses appear to the naked eye, though it may still be difficult to spot, due to the length of the vegetation. But if you look close enough, you can discern where a hole lies in the soil before you step into it.
=================================== Exits ===================================
[Down] into a Burrow [East] to the Countryside
[South] to an Orchard [Southeast] to the Grasslands
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[IC] Peppermint
[IIC] Hemlock
It's on the cusp of dawn. A milky yellow light bleeds into the eastern sky. In the nearby orchard birds have already begun their daily chorus, rousing the other diurnal denizens of the wood and meadow. Venturing out after a restful night's sleep, Hemlock makes sure he's awake enough to have his wits about him before poking his head out from the rabbithole leading to his burrow. After a moment of watching and listening, he hops out, sitting up to have better look around. Aside from the bird-song, the meadow is peaceful. The wind isn't stirring, and the dew hangs heavily in large glistening droplets that occasionally drip from the bending grass blades. The buck doesn't start on breakfast just yet, his appetite still waking up.
In a comfortable, sandy-looking rut formed around and beneath the intertwining, tangled roots of a tree, a pair of greyish ears may be seen, illuminated by the morning twilight which is slowly fading from blue to pink. Peppermint, obviously the owner of those two fluffy appendages, is happily digging with her large feet, sending sand flying behind her tail and into the grass beyond.
Hemlock is hopping his way towards said tree -- coincidentally, as his real target is a pleasant-looking patch of greenery -- when the unmistakable sound of digging catches his attention. He perks his ears and watches with a bit of amusement as he spots the ears, and the sand flying out from amongst the tree's roots. Only a doe could think about digging in a place like this, where there are plenty of burrows already dug. He gives a little thump of his hind leg, not loud enough to be mistaken for a signal of danger, before venturing close enough to peer over the large root that's between them. "G'morning!" He offers cheerfully.
The pawfuls of flying dirt come showering down onto the earth behind Peppermint as she stops to peer over her shoulder at Hemlock. "Good morning!" she calls back, turning about to face him. She stamps down the claw-torn earth with her broad hind feet as she asks rhetorically: "Don't you ever get up and just feel like having a good dig in the dirt?" A little wrinkle of her nose and whiskers. "And besides that, my end of the burrow kinda' smells like hares."
Hemlock can't help but chuckle softly, giving his head a little shake, his ears wagging slightly with the movement. "That's not usually the first thing that pops into my head in the morning, to be honest." Or ever. Heh. The buck turns to pluck up a mouthful of dewy grass, nibbling for a moment before going on. "Hares underground! It's odd, isn't it? I don't suppose you know where all the rabbits that dug this warren went to?" He gives a casual glance around, peppered whiskers twitching.
Hemlock's gentle rebuff prompts a flick of Peppermint's ears. Really, digging in the dirt for no reason? It's like she's a kit that just discovered she had claws. How will anyone treat her like a grown-up if she keeps acting like a baby? She hops over towards the grass and considers the dewy bits of clover peeping from between the fresh, green blades. "It is strange," she agrees. "I don't know where they came from or why they're here. Or what happened to the rabbits that were here before..." Dogs? Humans? All unpleasant things, not really morning conversation. "But it's such a .. a pretty place. Looks like good weather today."
Hemlock continues to help himself to the grass at his own paws. After another contemplative moment, he sits back to scratch at an ear. "Have you spoken to the hares, then? I haven't even cought a glimpse of 'em, though I've smelled 'em plain enough. Not that I've been looking for them." He adds, with a note in his tone of voice that suggests that they're not his preferred company. Not that he has anything against them, really, but... well. They lack a certain familiarity that comes with socializing with other rabbits.
Peppermint shakes her head, no. "I haven't seen them. Too big for me to go over and strike up a conversation on my own -- what if they didn't like me?" Even though Peppermint is rapidly growing into a well-formed doe, she's still small and a little clumsy. If the hares were violent for some reason, she wouldn't stand a chance. "I guess they don't mind us being here, or they'da' run us out, right?"
"I don't imagine why they would. Not like they've anything to fear from us." Hemlock replies, sounding confident enough that the hares aren't a threat. Then again, he's not a small rabbit, and looks like the type that knows how to take care of himself. "Plenty of grass and dandelions to go around, too, not to mention burrows." The buck is curious about the fact that Peppermint seems as much a stranger to this place as he is. "So, what brought you here?"
"Mom and dad," Peppermint says casually, leaning down to tear up a mouthful of greens with her long front teeth. She doesn't seem particularly interested in elaborating on this point -- just chews. "Things got crowded, I guess Dad's the adventurous type. I dunno, my parents are weird." She gives a little roll of her blue-grey eyes and swallows. "What about you?"
"Ah..." The male leans back on his haunches a bit, ears tilting this way and that as he considers the best way to phrase his reply. "Had a bit of a... disagreement with the chief of the last warren I lived in. He told me to live with it, or leave... so, I left. I have a feeling they'd have run me off at some point, even if I'd have kept my mouth shut and my head down. He didn't like me, much." He chuckles again, hopping a pace or two and setting to work on a patch of clover. "Oh, by the way." He says through a mouthful. "Don't know if you've smelled it, but there's been a dog about. Not a very smart one, but still. Best be on your guard."
A disagreement? Surely Hemlock isn't the bad boy type? She tilts her ears forward, the unmistakable rabbit gesture of curiosity and intrigue. "Well, sometimes there is something to be said for rebelling, right?" she says, her whiskers lifting in a sort of smile. "It's good to be your own rabbit." She gnaws on a dandelion stem. "I haven't smelled anything like a dog, but I'll definitely keep an ear up for it."
Hemlock's eyes give a little twinkle at the doe's words, and his head bobs lightly. "That it is." He replies to her comment about being one's own rabbit. Certainly a sentiment that he agrees thoroughly with. Hemlock decides to indulge Peppermint's curiosity. "Well, apparently the warren was in a bad place. This warren was a bit overcrowded, too, and not very well hidden. There was some problem with men, nearby, and some rabbits were being taken by them -- too often for my own peace of mind. I went with a friend of mine, fellow named Burdock, to propose the warren be relocated. Chief wouldn't have it, though." And that was that, apparently, for the buck doesn't add anything else to the story, resuming his morning meal instead.
"You would expect the chief of a warren to have a little more good sense," Peppermint says. Obviously going through the phase where one not only discovers that one has opinions, but feels free to voice them as bluntly, loudly, and often as possible. "You can't just ignore rabbits disappearing from the warren. Dig as deep as you want, but those humans can dig deeper and faster." Not that Peppermint is particularly a conspiracy theorist, but some things you can't ignore. "Just being practical means you have to move. You were totally right." She wiggles her nose. "What happened with your buddy? Bruno?"
Hemlock's ears give a little twitch. "Burdock? Stopped running not long after we left the warren. Fox. Poor fellow.. could've been me as easily as him. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He sounds a little saddened by the memory, but the sharpest mourning has already passed for the buck. Mortality is just an everyday part of life for rabbits. It's not that he's not remorseful, but he's also resilient and won't let such a thing keep him from living the full, happy life that a rabbit should. "As for the old chief... well, I actually think the reason he was so resistant to leave was because the proposal was coming from me." He brushes his front paws over his whiskers with a slightly-bitter smile. "Like I mentioned... he never liked me much."
The doe tilts her ears back slightly. "Sorry about your friend," she says simply. A moment of respectful, albeit slightly uncomfortable silence passes before Hemlock continues his story. "Well, s'far as I know there isn't a chief here yet. Just seems like kind of a spontaneous collection of rabbits, right? Maybe if you were to become the chief or -- or an officer of --" She pauses as she realizes quite suddenly that these remarks would pass for flirtation from a slightly older doe. She tries to think, what would her father say? "Well, I just mean that I think people need experience to go with authority."
Hemlock looks a little bemused by this idea, and a little amused by it as well. He mulls it over with a few more bites of clover. "Hmm. Well, there's not much of a warren, so not much need for a chief, at least for the moment. Kind of a shame, really. I hope that'll change." If Hemlock took Peppermint's comments as flirtatious, he doesn't make any obvious sign of it, though his response could easily be a hint at his hopes for the future. Perhaps he considers the doe a bit young, maybe he's just playing it cool. He's a male though, after all, and there don't seem to be any other does around, so to say he's totally disinterested would be an outright lie. She also speaks with an acuity that many does her age lack, and this doesn't go unmissed by him. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders. "I'm flattered to know I give that sort of impression. We'll see if you still think that after you've gotten a chance to get to know me a bit better." There's a certain humor in his tone to suggest a bit of humility on his part.
"Maybe," is all the doe offers in response to this. Maybe a warren, maybe a chief, maybe knowing Hemlock better... She studies the dandelions in front of her as if they might offer some guidance as to what she should do or say next. The sun is up over the horizon now, and it does look like it will be a beautiful day. "You, um..." A pause. "You been over to that orchard?" She indicates with her nose the orchard that dots one side of the field with tidy rows of fruit-laden trees.
Hemlock follows the change in the train of conversation, glancing south as Peppermint mentions the orchard. He gives his head a little shake. "I've been down to that end of the meadow, but not into the orchard proper." He sits up a bit again, sniffing, before dropping to all fours, and tacks on a bit more. "Seems a good time to go and have a look 'round the place. I've got enough clover in me for now. What do you think?"
Considering the possibility of fruit that has undoubtedly begun to fall from the tree's branches as they approach autumn, Peppermint is hesitant to dismiss the buck's offer entirely. "Maybe in a little while?" She stretches slightly and gives her nose a friendly wiggle. "All that digging's made me think it might be time for a nap -- underground, I mean. Dogs and all, can't be too careful!" She gives a friendly nose-nudge towards the buck before hopping off towards one of the half-concealed holes leading down into the warren's comfy, tunnelled burrows.
Fair enough, the buck thinks -- maybe he was being a bit too forward. Nevermind, though. He's not easily dissuaded. He bobs his head again softly. "Alright, then. Rest well." He offers, his tone light and friendly. He watches her depart, then slowly makes his way back towards his own burrow, nibbling here and there along the way and enjoying the mild warmth of the morning sun on his dark coat. Only when the dew has left the grass does he slip underground for a short nap of his own. Maybe this evening he can persuade Peppermint to join him for a foray. It's a pleasant thought to doze off to.
================================================================================
At first glance, this portion of the meadow appears much the same as the rest of it, lush, green grass growing densely, flowing softly with the breeze until it takes on the appearance of waves upon the ocean's surface. This is when everything truly appears hidden and only those who know the area can avoid the holes that are concealed by the grasses. Once the wind stops blowing, which doesn't seem to occur here that often, the holes among the grasses appear to the naked eye, though it may still be difficult to spot, due to the length of the vegetation. But if you look close enough, you can discern where a hole lies in the soil before you step into it.
=================================== Exits ===================================
[Down] into a Burrow [East] to the Countryside
[South] to an Orchard [Southeast] to the Grasslands
================================================================================
[IC] Peppermint
[IIC] Hemlock
It's on the cusp of dawn. A milky yellow light bleeds into the eastern sky. In the nearby orchard birds have already begun their daily chorus, rousing the other diurnal denizens of the wood and meadow. Venturing out after a restful night's sleep, Hemlock makes sure he's awake enough to have his wits about him before poking his head out from the rabbithole leading to his burrow. After a moment of watching and listening, he hops out, sitting up to have better look around. Aside from the bird-song, the meadow is peaceful. The wind isn't stirring, and the dew hangs heavily in large glistening droplets that occasionally drip from the bending grass blades. The buck doesn't start on breakfast just yet, his appetite still waking up.
In a comfortable, sandy-looking rut formed around and beneath the intertwining, tangled roots of a tree, a pair of greyish ears may be seen, illuminated by the morning twilight which is slowly fading from blue to pink. Peppermint, obviously the owner of those two fluffy appendages, is happily digging with her large feet, sending sand flying behind her tail and into the grass beyond.
Hemlock is hopping his way towards said tree -- coincidentally, as his real target is a pleasant-looking patch of greenery -- when the unmistakable sound of digging catches his attention. He perks his ears and watches with a bit of amusement as he spots the ears, and the sand flying out from amongst the tree's roots. Only a doe could think about digging in a place like this, where there are plenty of burrows already dug. He gives a little thump of his hind leg, not loud enough to be mistaken for a signal of danger, before venturing close enough to peer over the large root that's between them. "G'morning!" He offers cheerfully.
The pawfuls of flying dirt come showering down onto the earth behind Peppermint as she stops to peer over her shoulder at Hemlock. "Good morning!" she calls back, turning about to face him. She stamps down the claw-torn earth with her broad hind feet as she asks rhetorically: "Don't you ever get up and just feel like having a good dig in the dirt?" A little wrinkle of her nose and whiskers. "And besides that, my end of the burrow kinda' smells like hares."
Hemlock can't help but chuckle softly, giving his head a little shake, his ears wagging slightly with the movement. "That's not usually the first thing that pops into my head in the morning, to be honest." Or ever. Heh. The buck turns to pluck up a mouthful of dewy grass, nibbling for a moment before going on. "Hares underground! It's odd, isn't it? I don't suppose you know where all the rabbits that dug this warren went to?" He gives a casual glance around, peppered whiskers twitching.
Hemlock's gentle rebuff prompts a flick of Peppermint's ears. Really, digging in the dirt for no reason? It's like she's a kit that just discovered she had claws. How will anyone treat her like a grown-up if she keeps acting like a baby? She hops over towards the grass and considers the dewy bits of clover peeping from between the fresh, green blades. "It is strange," she agrees. "I don't know where they came from or why they're here. Or what happened to the rabbits that were here before..." Dogs? Humans? All unpleasant things, not really morning conversation. "But it's such a .. a pretty place. Looks like good weather today."
Hemlock continues to help himself to the grass at his own paws. After another contemplative moment, he sits back to scratch at an ear. "Have you spoken to the hares, then? I haven't even cought a glimpse of 'em, though I've smelled 'em plain enough. Not that I've been looking for them." He adds, with a note in his tone of voice that suggests that they're not his preferred company. Not that he has anything against them, really, but... well. They lack a certain familiarity that comes with socializing with other rabbits.
Peppermint shakes her head, no. "I haven't seen them. Too big for me to go over and strike up a conversation on my own -- what if they didn't like me?" Even though Peppermint is rapidly growing into a well-formed doe, she's still small and a little clumsy. If the hares were violent for some reason, she wouldn't stand a chance. "I guess they don't mind us being here, or they'da' run us out, right?"
"I don't imagine why they would. Not like they've anything to fear from us." Hemlock replies, sounding confident enough that the hares aren't a threat. Then again, he's not a small rabbit, and looks like the type that knows how to take care of himself. "Plenty of grass and dandelions to go around, too, not to mention burrows." The buck is curious about the fact that Peppermint seems as much a stranger to this place as he is. "So, what brought you here?"
"Mom and dad," Peppermint says casually, leaning down to tear up a mouthful of greens with her long front teeth. She doesn't seem particularly interested in elaborating on this point -- just chews. "Things got crowded, I guess Dad's the adventurous type. I dunno, my parents are weird." She gives a little roll of her blue-grey eyes and swallows. "What about you?"
"Ah..." The male leans back on his haunches a bit, ears tilting this way and that as he considers the best way to phrase his reply. "Had a bit of a... disagreement with the chief of the last warren I lived in. He told me to live with it, or leave... so, I left. I have a feeling they'd have run me off at some point, even if I'd have kept my mouth shut and my head down. He didn't like me, much." He chuckles again, hopping a pace or two and setting to work on a patch of clover. "Oh, by the way." He says through a mouthful. "Don't know if you've smelled it, but there's been a dog about. Not a very smart one, but still. Best be on your guard."
A disagreement? Surely Hemlock isn't the bad boy type? She tilts her ears forward, the unmistakable rabbit gesture of curiosity and intrigue. "Well, sometimes there is something to be said for rebelling, right?" she says, her whiskers lifting in a sort of smile. "It's good to be your own rabbit." She gnaws on a dandelion stem. "I haven't smelled anything like a dog, but I'll definitely keep an ear up for it."
Hemlock's eyes give a little twinkle at the doe's words, and his head bobs lightly. "That it is." He replies to her comment about being one's own rabbit. Certainly a sentiment that he agrees thoroughly with. Hemlock decides to indulge Peppermint's curiosity. "Well, apparently the warren was in a bad place. This warren was a bit overcrowded, too, and not very well hidden. There was some problem with men, nearby, and some rabbits were being taken by them -- too often for my own peace of mind. I went with a friend of mine, fellow named Burdock, to propose the warren be relocated. Chief wouldn't have it, though." And that was that, apparently, for the buck doesn't add anything else to the story, resuming his morning meal instead.
"You would expect the chief of a warren to have a little more good sense," Peppermint says. Obviously going through the phase where one not only discovers that one has opinions, but feels free to voice them as bluntly, loudly, and often as possible. "You can't just ignore rabbits disappearing from the warren. Dig as deep as you want, but those humans can dig deeper and faster." Not that Peppermint is particularly a conspiracy theorist, but some things you can't ignore. "Just being practical means you have to move. You were totally right." She wiggles her nose. "What happened with your buddy? Bruno?"
Hemlock's ears give a little twitch. "Burdock? Stopped running not long after we left the warren. Fox. Poor fellow.. could've been me as easily as him. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He sounds a little saddened by the memory, but the sharpest mourning has already passed for the buck. Mortality is just an everyday part of life for rabbits. It's not that he's not remorseful, but he's also resilient and won't let such a thing keep him from living the full, happy life that a rabbit should. "As for the old chief... well, I actually think the reason he was so resistant to leave was because the proposal was coming from me." He brushes his front paws over his whiskers with a slightly-bitter smile. "Like I mentioned... he never liked me much."
The doe tilts her ears back slightly. "Sorry about your friend," she says simply. A moment of respectful, albeit slightly uncomfortable silence passes before Hemlock continues his story. "Well, s'far as I know there isn't a chief here yet. Just seems like kind of a spontaneous collection of rabbits, right? Maybe if you were to become the chief or -- or an officer of --" She pauses as she realizes quite suddenly that these remarks would pass for flirtation from a slightly older doe. She tries to think, what would her father say? "Well, I just mean that I think people need experience to go with authority."
Hemlock looks a little bemused by this idea, and a little amused by it as well. He mulls it over with a few more bites of clover. "Hmm. Well, there's not much of a warren, so not much need for a chief, at least for the moment. Kind of a shame, really. I hope that'll change." If Hemlock took Peppermint's comments as flirtatious, he doesn't make any obvious sign of it, though his response could easily be a hint at his hopes for the future. Perhaps he considers the doe a bit young, maybe he's just playing it cool. He's a male though, after all, and there don't seem to be any other does around, so to say he's totally disinterested would be an outright lie. She also speaks with an acuity that many does her age lack, and this doesn't go unmissed by him. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders. "I'm flattered to know I give that sort of impression. We'll see if you still think that after you've gotten a chance to get to know me a bit better." There's a certain humor in his tone to suggest a bit of humility on his part.
"Maybe," is all the doe offers in response to this. Maybe a warren, maybe a chief, maybe knowing Hemlock better... She studies the dandelions in front of her as if they might offer some guidance as to what she should do or say next. The sun is up over the horizon now, and it does look like it will be a beautiful day. "You, um..." A pause. "You been over to that orchard?" She indicates with her nose the orchard that dots one side of the field with tidy rows of fruit-laden trees.
Hemlock follows the change in the train of conversation, glancing south as Peppermint mentions the orchard. He gives his head a little shake. "I've been down to that end of the meadow, but not into the orchard proper." He sits up a bit again, sniffing, before dropping to all fours, and tacks on a bit more. "Seems a good time to go and have a look 'round the place. I've got enough clover in me for now. What do you think?"
Considering the possibility of fruit that has undoubtedly begun to fall from the tree's branches as they approach autumn, Peppermint is hesitant to dismiss the buck's offer entirely. "Maybe in a little while?" She stretches slightly and gives her nose a friendly wiggle. "All that digging's made me think it might be time for a nap -- underground, I mean. Dogs and all, can't be too careful!" She gives a friendly nose-nudge towards the buck before hopping off towards one of the half-concealed holes leading down into the warren's comfy, tunnelled burrows.
Fair enough, the buck thinks -- maybe he was being a bit too forward. Nevermind, though. He's not easily dissuaded. He bobs his head again softly. "Alright, then. Rest well." He offers, his tone light and friendly. He watches her depart, then slowly makes his way back towards his own burrow, nibbling here and there along the way and enjoying the mild warmth of the morning sun on his dark coat. Only when the dew has left the grass does he slip underground for a short nap of his own. Maybe this evening he can persuade Peppermint to join him for a foray. It's a pleasant thought to doze off to.