Sands were excellent for covering treasures. With their guise shifting constantly, the did not gossip or share the secrets of the gemstones stored within. The desert had an excellent pokerface- one that neither looked capable of telling the truth or a lie at all. And that was why Tumbleweed had chosen a home that was still largely sand- but with a small, reliable water source.
He'd begun to store gemstones about the oasis, remembering the storage of each by how many pawsteps it took him from each palm tree and out into the desert. With the sand shifting constantly, it was impossible for a passer-by to be able to tell that anything had been hidden there at all.
But his stock of gemstones for trading had grown, though he knew that some would need a little bit of coazing before they truly gleamed. And to do that, he would have to carve out a small section of the pool at the oasis to create what he referred to in his mind as a gem-bath. A series of pools lined with stones of varying coarseness, where a gem could be placed, and rubbed until the face of it became more smoothe. He would chip away debris and unwanted contaminants, moving the stone from pool to pool to polish the stone into a shine.
The only problem was that this wasn't exactly his forte.
He gritted his teeth as he watched a piece of turquoise split in half beneath his paws. Too much force, perhaps. He thought fondly of a friend he'd once known- and on a whim, he tilted his head back and called for
@Widower, before laughing softly to himself. The chances she'd ever hear him were slim.
A returning treasure to a place unknown. Blind, yet still full of sight. Eager to step into the light, but kept concealed by a shadow of doubt.
What might become of this world and those in it? She knows not the answer, yet still asks the question over and over in her mind. But for now, she can only be what she is. A forager... a hoarder... a keeper of the many secrets she will never reveal.
And as for whom she stands beside while in pursuit of what she seeks most? That will be up to them — the candidates of possibilities.
But there is one in particular. A man in which who's voice calls for her in this very moment. She is near. She hears. She comes.
He turned the stone over and over again, grating it against the stones in the small pool, scuffing the surface of it so that when he moves it to the next pool, it might buff to a shiny finish. But he could feel the friction of stone on stone beneath his feet, and felt like perhaps the grit wasn't right. It felt as though he was just constantly scratching the surface of the turquoise, and when he pulled the stone out, he found his suspicions were correct.
"Horsethistle," He muttered under his breath, before he moved the piece of turquoise to another small pool where the stones were less coarse. It was then, though, that he looked up- and caught sight of what he first thought was a trick of the mirage...But his keen eyesight knew better. The flicker of dark moved in such a way against the waves of heat on the horizon that he knew it was another canine who approached-
and materializing from his summons was the Widower herself.
He blinked. He hadn't expected her to just...Show up like that.
He left the turqoise and strode into the cool waters of the pool, dipping his head under before lifting it and sending a spray of water over his shoulders. But when he looked up again, she was still there. He huffed, and gave her a cheshire grin.
"Here I was, thinkin' I had sunstroke." He admitted. "But you're actually here."
He had called, and yet, he seemed surprised that she came forth.
My shadow does not lie.
For she was here in the flesh without fail.
Why do you call me?
Tone hardened, gaze attentive. All work and no play, as it typically was with her. I was on the trail of a rarity... a unique bird, in which its skull could have been mine to gaze upon in solace.
She seemed spiteful, really, to know that the pretty trinket would not be hers as soon as she hoped. But she could find it again. This, he would not know, for he would allow him to go on buying her faux tantrum in response to this loss.
"None lie to you and get away with it," A truth more than a compliment. He believed the Widower was not the sort to be easily flattered, but that appreciation would be valued. The coyote was not one to double-cross or betray, he felt. It was touching that she'd even honoured him with the pleasure of a visit. Clearly, she had no idea that he'd been reaching out as if in a dream- expecting nothing in return.
"I apologize if I've pulled you from an errand," He said modestly. It seemed she was on the hunt for something which he assumed was more a metaphor than being literal. He lifted the rough-polished turquoise from the water, somewhat ashamed of the progress he'd failed to make with it. "I regret not learning more from you about refining gemstones..." He said. "But I'm glad you came." His gaze narrowed. With her, his goals were a distinct possibility.
"This desert is a treasure chest." He said. "Untapped. And this place, this oasis...It has potential." He said. "As obvious as it seems, you'd never have known just how many of my own, personal caches you stepped over on your way here," He said, with a wily smile. "It could work, Widower."
He goes on. So many things to say. Even despite her grievances, the Widower listens.
When finally he is done, her look changes to one of firmness and finality. You mean to make home here.
Spoken not as an inquiry, but as confirmation, for she already knows this to be true.
Mentioned once before, the Widower had fled without a second thought. But now, she wonders. Has he sought her to join him, or is he merely telling her this to boast that what he has desired, he will finally have? She asks this with a steady lift of a brow, testing what words he might use next.
Tumbleweed nodded. The jewel of the desert would make a good enough settlement, he thought. With his roving ideas in mind, it wasn't meant to be a stronghold- merely a base of operations which could provide the pack with water, the desert's most unreliable resource. But if they could claim it, then they could draw strength with the oasis' appeal. His smile grew.
"Travellers'll do anything...Trade anything to get a mouthful of water sometimes." He said with a slight shrug of one shoulder. "But I can't hold this place on my own." He said, with an arch of his brow. "No one's got a treasurer's eye like you," He said.
No one like her. At least he had that part right. One glance, and everyone seem to have an assumption about you right off the bat. But Tumbleweed knew her in ways others never would.
The Widower considered for a moment, gaze traveling. Until finally it returned, settling upon him. I will not make you do it alone.
She answers. But I cannot promise that I will stay once it is strong.
For why then would he need her?
Perhaps then she could return to traveling this new region and discovering what unseen treasures may await her.
He knew not to expect a great deal of enthusiasm from her, but her cooperation was valued. He still had little more than speculation on why it was Widower was so with-held, but he didn't hold it against her, nor would he bring it up. It would fracture whatever trust he'd managed to forge, and nothing was worth losing that- not when she was not only valuable, but highly tolerable as well.
He tried not to take it personally when she mentioned she might leave, eventually...But he knew she wasn't one to be tied down. She likely didn't enjoy crowds, either. "Sounds like a deal, then," He said, though he dreaded the day, already, that she might disappear off into the horizon again. Of all the treasures he'd ever found, none made him feel the way Widower did; and similar to its value, he would keep that secret buried deep within him.
"Now, how'd you do this?" He asked, motioning to the three small pools of water he'd set up. "Do I need somethin' with a finer grit or am I just pushin' on these stones too hard?" He asked. Tumbling stones by hand in rock-filled pools was something he was learning, but had yet to master.
It was decided. She was here to stay. For now, anyway.
Attention shifting to a new direction, she eyed him as he gestured toward a project he'd begun. Stone tumbling. One of the first things she'd ever learned to do.
Assessing the pools, quickly, something was noticed. Tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth, she reached forward and dipped a paw into the water and dug out a clump of small stones. You've got too many inside, for starters.
She inhaled sharply, silently mocking the mistake that never should have been.
Once the ratio of water and stone was settled, the real work began. Don't use too much grit, nor too much pressure... but still enough to get the job done.
Steadying on her haunches, she reaches her forelimbs into one of the pools. She begins to demonstrate. Like this.
Then, briefly, she casts him a look, assuring herself that he is truly paying attention.
He could see how easy she felt, instructing something that was both her skill and passion. Appealing to this side of her always seemed to bring her out of her shell, something he enjoyed and knew not to take for granted. She had knowledge and experience, and fortunately for him, she'd chosen to pass some of that on to him. Naturally, they'd both benefit from his education, as he had every intention of lavishing her with treasures.
He was indeed paying attention, noting the way she'd changed the small pool he'd created, and the movements she made. Expertly balanced, she was able to shift her weight more onto her hind paws than what he'd done. He'd been bearing down on the stones far too much with his weight. "Touch of the master's hand," He commented with a nod. "May I?" He asked, not wanting to simply shove his paws in and make her uncomfortable with the close contact. He wanted her to judge his posture, and help him refine his movements so he'd be able to do the procedure on his own, too.
"I've heard some rumours about what might be around in this area," He said. Not that the rude coyote he'd met was a reliable source of information, but given how he'd coaxed the details from her, he was inclined to believe she was telling the truth. "Quartz, turquoise, garnet. Apparently there's others out looking for them, but ah- they've got nothing on us."
He'd seen how it was done, and now he wanted to test the new way out for himself. Nodding, she slowly inched her way out, soon finding all four feet upon the ground. She would stay close as he worked, carefully observing to be sure he performed correctly.
Many beautiful things, he listed. Treasures that would appease their eyes for many long moons. It pleased her to know that he'd chosen such a bountiful land.
Whatever lies here, we will find it.
More like she would, as she had every intention of beating other treasure–hunters in the chase. It may not have been a race, but just like with survival, it was every man or woman for themselves.
Sitting the way she had, he kept most of his weight on his hind quarters while using his front paws to gently turn the stones over and over, making sure not to put too much pressure on them. Within moments, he began to feel a burn in his hips and quadriceps, though he didn't want to show weakness this early on, and merely pushed through it. He began to appreciate Widower's skill on a different level, and saw the strength it took just to balance while processing the gemstones.
"I want to find some opals." He admitted, as he paused to stretch his legs, fishing the turquoise out of the water to see his progress. Very little, thus far, but at least some of the roughness to its edges had been worn down. He resumed his crouch, and began to push the stones around in the water again, gently. "Some sunstones, jasper..." He listed, timing the words with the movements of his front paws. He looked up at Widower without stopping. "What're your top picks?" He asked non-chalantly.
Right to work he went. Off beat, at first, but he soon caught up to the proper rhythm.
The silent air of his work didn't last long. She almost wanted to give him a good thwack, as listing to the steady thrum of the stones hitting water was almost therapeutic. He had begun to speak of what gems await them. Of which he hoped for, and even questioning which she might desire most. But to her own dismay, she did not know.
Whichever come my way, I will be happy with.
It was true, really. They were all treasures, no matter their color, shape, or sheen. All were just as pleasurable to gaze upon. To her, more‐so than any man could give whilst toying with her body. It had always been that way. Sometimes she wondered if maybe she hadn't had the right experience, or maybe she truly just didn't feel the same spark. Either way, she knew one thing was certain... no man would stand between her and her bounty.
He wouldn't be brushed off so easily.
"There has to be some heirarchy, even among stones," he said, glancing up at her with one eyebrow quirked. "After all; would fifty of the same type of gem be the same as five of ten different gems?" He asked. He tilted his head from side to side, as though weighing the options. "Variety, Widower- those we trade with may have a preference, and we'd be better off having a multitude of things to bargain with, and they won't all be seen as equal....Especially if we choose to market them differently."
He was an aspiring businessman, after all. And though she might have desired silence, they had important matters to discuss, and he valued her opinion enough to put her through the agony of sorting out the details.
"Now how we decide the value, that's something to figure out. The overall condition and size of the stone are pretty obvious factors, but type of stone, rarity of stone, and of course popularity and demand, those ought to influence each stone's price." With every emphasis, he turned the stones over, causing the water's surface to ripple. He reminded himself to be gentle; it wasn't easy to do when he was getting enthusiastic about the idea of talking value.
"You have the best eye for these things. I'll want to count on you to determine a stone's value." He said.
She brushed away the truth of a query, and in return, she earned a scornful lesson from one she considered friend. How selfish.
Shoving roughly against his shoulder, she snapped her teeth near his muzzle. Whether they took a scrape of skin or not, she was only satisfied with if he received the message or not.
I am well aware of how the trade works. I do not need your lecture to teach me what I already know.
The Widower was far beyond unhappy and felt heavily insulted, and it showed plainly in her bitter expression. If he was so interested in keeping her around, he certainly wasn't playing his cards right.
His utterings had not been intended to be a schooling lesson- merely an outlet for him to discuss one of his most favourite topics- bargaining. He wanted to sort out a system with Widower so that they could both give the same answer when asked the value of a stone. He had hoped to include her in the process of determining those parameters, but when she shoved her shoulder against his and snapped first at his busy feet and then at his muzzle, he lifted his head suddenly to notice how upset she looked, with mild shock. He didn't pull away, in spite of it, and weathered the flurry of movements as though not bothered by the repercussions.
Fortunately for both of them, Tumbleweed was a patient man and for those whom he held dear, his fuse grew much longer. He looked upon her apologetically, though fondly as well. He couldn't talk to Widower the way he spoke with just anyone. More often than not, Widower was alone. He didn't imagine she had many long, wordy conversations with other creatures. He was very lucky indeed that she chose to humour him at all.
Calmly, he brushed away a slight trickle of blood that ran from his cheekbone where her teeth had clipped him. With the blood smeared below his eye, he looked at her, wondering how he'd forgotten that at times, it was best not to be quite so chatty with Widower.
"I know," He agreed. "I say all this because I'm going to have to say all of it to every creature clutching treasure that comes within a mile of this Oasis. He flicked a paw in her direction. "Widower, I know that you know all of these things. I am sorry if it felt like I was lecturing you..." Another drop of blood fell from his cheek and into the water, causing him to smile faintly. "Glad to see you've been keeping your fangs sharp," He mused.
Her sourness did not wither when the soft apology was given. He admitted his faults, and yet still she did not forgive him. Never had Widower forgiven another easily, and she would not start now.
They will never grow dull.
She seethed, flashing her teeth a second time for proof. Now he had felt them and seen them, so that he may never forget it.
No level of familiarity, it seemed, might ever be enough. Widower was an unpredictable creature, largely feral- and yet in spite of all of her rough edges and her hasty actions, he felt compelled to keep her around. He did not fear her skill or power, as he knew his own capabilities- though he advertised them very little.
"Of course. If we could talk business for one moment longer-" He said, hoping she'd be amenable. "You could be in charge of the treasures, if you'd like. Appraise what comes in, lead some expeditions treasure-hunting, and oversee the safekeeping of said treasures. You could enjoy a rank in the leadership, first feeding, your pick of the bounty as payment...And?" He asked. She could name her price; it was all in the game of bargaining. "It's open to you, Widower: what you want to do, what you want to be called, and what you want for your work."
First, he attempted an apology to make up for his words. And now, as it appeared, he aimed for bribery instead!
She should have been appalled, waltzing away with no further word. But the offer was fat too compelling. A role in leadership, she would have... to control what came and went.
Respect.
Was her first addition to the bargain. None will disrespect me, or they will know my wrath.
An arrogant answer, but she did not care. Separate quarters... guarded—
Her second. All treasures will be kept with me, where none but you may touch them unless told otherwise.
Quarters in which she could also work in solitude, unbothered.
Quizzically, she stared him down. Would he allow what was demanded? Or would she be made out for what she was. Selfish. Arrogant. Greedy. For it was all true, but only a true fool would dare say it to her face.
"Of course," He said, when she mentioned respect. He felt that most canines might actually fear her, but that was the next best thing, he thought- and they would treat her with respect if they feared her. All of her asks were things that Tumbleweed had felt were a given, regardless, though he wasn't sure why she would need a guard. Nevertheless, if she wanted one, she could have one.
"You'll have first pick of location," He said. "And as for the guard, they will be of your choosing...Though we could host a tournament of strength, if you'd like?" He said with a light grin. "Though I would say also that you should have the power of veto, should you think one of the guards be more trustworthy than the one who is strongest," He said. He simply liked the idea of having the wolves prove themselves worthy of being her guard.
Respect she would have nonetheless, as he portrayed it. And as the latter of the bargain, it would be for her to choose. A tournament held for it, even.
I want only someone that will keep my quarters empty and my path clear when I seek.
Holding a tournament to determine the best seemed unnecessary, but if he so wished the fun of it, she wouldn't deny him this. But if you want a tournament to decide the lucky one, be my guest.
Or perhaps unlucky. After all, they would be stuck with her all the while. What was so lucky about that?
He liked the idea of putting wolves to the test, so that he could truly be sure that whoever guarded her chambers was absolutely fit for the duty. Loyalty, however, couldn't be shown in battle, save for a certain willingness to kill or wound for the sake of another. "We'll see who shows up," he summarized, knowing they couldn't know what or who to expect until some potential joiners came their way. Somehow, he thought the task of keeping her path clear would be an easy one; most canids would gladly avoid getting directly in her path once they got wind of the legends about her.
He pulled one of the stones out of the water, and clicked his tongue, pleased. "I'll be damned," He said softly. "But I never doubted you," He said, reaching his paw out to show off the progress he'd made under her tutelage.
Yes— they would see, wouldn't they? Widower certainly looked forward to the day she was able to stand in front of the many unfortunate souls that stumbled their way into the oasis seeking a place to call home.
After a dazed moment, distracted by her thoughts, she turned her gaze toward the pool. A devious grin contorted upon her visage. Caudal appendage swaying, she stepped closer to observe his work.
True results of a sprouting master.
For once, she praised him, rather than insult him. But the latter was simply what she did best. After all, isn't that how one best learned? Maybe others wouldn't see it that way. But Widower did, and that was all that mattered to her.
also archiving this for territory claim <3 would love another!
She smiled at the gemstone, he thought, though perhaps at him too. The fur along the back of his neck prickled, as the praise had come unbidden, unexpected. He was pleased that his techniques had improved, and could then be applied to other stones. Now that Widower was around to offer her insights and tactics, he felt they had potential.
An uncut gem yet, but ready for polishing.