Golden Glade even embers spark from odd flames

Merc. Thread with the lovely @Fire :)

     Embry was silent. The morning was gone, and with it, the coming noon marched forward with all the blaring heat the sun could provide; trumpeting within Embry's mind until the glory of the parade became a dim nudnik. "Blasted..." Embry glared around in spite of himself. His sea-green orbs flickered dangerously out of ire for the less-than-luxurious heat that now bombarded his aureate flanks; fiery emerald embers alight with newfound vigor.

     "SUN." He stopped in his progression through the glade, spreading two flaxen stalks of grass in particular between the firm pressure of his halted paw. "Why don't you give this poor weed a chance?" He peered into the blaring light above; blinking angrily as the rays pierced his gaze. He was going crazy, no doubt. Delirium had set in after all this time. Either that or he was suffering from immense boredom. The latter would have to do in this scenario - it wasn't yet Embry's time.

     Talking to the sun wasn't what infuriated Embry. Nor was it even that he proceeded to infringe upon sanity by continuing the conversation with a blade of grass. Indeed, it was the fact that he was starving that paralyzed his every thought; every movement. He needed food. Fast. 

     And not the type you eat.

Sharaiza is literally my favorite artist and I AM IN LOVE with your avatar! Also very aesthetic thread title yes yes.

She was supposed to be resting, but every fiber of her being screamed that if she was not working she was worthless.  Maybe Niamh didn't even mean it, maybe she was just.. better than her.  At everything.  Either way, it hurt.

She'd hunted today but not to the point of exhaustion, and was seeking shade somewhere in the glade.  A limp duck hung from her mouth as she contemplated her future, and what it meant to live in the Plateau beneath Niamh's leadership.

Something pulled her from these ugly thoughts, a voice that was entirely unfamiliar.  "SUN," it screamed, and intrigued she crouched between the tall flaxen grasses, making an attempt to remain hidden.

"Why don't you give this poor weed a chance?"  She stifled a laugh, dropped the duck.  Because weeds, young man, they grow in places that they were never intended to grow.  What say you?  Pretending to be the sun (or the grass) when the young boy seemed to be delirious might not have been her best option, but it was sure a fun one... and that was something she desperately needed these days.

Thank you so much! I try to make up titles that'll get me in the writing mood, yeah? Congrats on CWOTW by the way - I just saw that :)

     Between the inferior brevity of time and space that flowed between the golden pleb's auditory reception of the approaching female and that of his emerald gaze tearing away from the weeds below, two thoughts manifested themselves:

     You idiot, you've been caught talking to the sun and weeds and now your mental state has become a mutual cognizance
 
     and 

     I'm so hungry she literally smells like a duck.

     The latter of these two became the more prominent concern. He scanned the female once over before, despite the gnawing urge to resist, he let his gaze rest upon the limp (juicy) waterfowl hanging from her jaws. Instinct once taught him to remain impassive - always unnegotiable in regards to body language. It was best, after all, to let situations make their own mistakes. This time, however, his stomach held dominion. 

     Mouth watering, Embry offered the girl a weary grin.
     "You know what, little lass?" He straightened his stance, liberating the strand now flattened by the weight of his grande paw. There was irony in the following statement, considering that he had only just returned from an encounter quite parallel in happenstance. "I'd say the weeds and I are one and the same." He glanced at the squashed patch with an almost paternal warmth. 

     "I don't know what you want to call the grass over here, but my name's Embry. Glad to have you join our little Sunday brunch." 

thank you!! i'm slacking a bit this month orz.  also i literally love embry help

Little lass.  Her brow flattened, lips squinched up into an unamused little black line.  If he wanted banter, he had come to the right place.  Ceara could rough and tumble with the best of them.  Who's 'our'?  You and the sun and the weeds?  And it doesn't look like there's much food around here.

She cast a glance down at her duck, then back at the flaxen boy (whose pelt, she realized with a pang in her stomach, reminded her of Niamh), then at the sugar maples that surrounded them.  Tell you what though.  The trees here, they have sap that's pretty good.  Anyway, I'm Ceara.  She swiped a paw over her duck possessively — she would not be against sharing... but he'd have to ask nicely.

thank you! Same with Ceara :)

     Embry cocked an eyebrow at her paralleled tone. He had to admit - the fae could certainly keep pace. Good. He though with an inward grin. Iron for iron, as they say. 

     The male considered the few sparse occasions such as these to be not unlike trading cards in value; a system of exchange for clever phrases gleaned from true, unexpurgated raillery. 

     "Indeed, the menu isn't diverse as of yet." He nodded despondently at the fibrous grass. "Lest you count this rabbitfood, here."

     He watched her move the duck out of view and only just realized the hunger ebbing through his sea-green orbs. Normally, he was able to tame his composition with more acuity. In the small gap of silence, however, following her mention of the tree sap, Embry found himself praying that his stomach would cease from disturbing the hush.

     "Ceara." He rolled the word curiously across his tongue, struggling to focus on anything more than the thought of tasting the bodacious duck now concealed from his prying orbs. Of course he couldn't blame her for retaining the kill. If anything, he would have already made a fast meal of the damned beautiful fare. Now, though, he stood a forlorn spectator: probing timidly at the chance for even a morsel of the share.

     Grrrrr...rrrrr...rrr...

     "Er..." Now it was just emberrassing. His stomach grumbled like an approaching storm; speaking more on his behalf than he could muster. "Any chance you could strike up a deal with this weed? The salad bar hasn't exactly been filling as of late. I'd do anything for some right proper protein."