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Wheeling Gull Isle There's a Fine, Fine Line - Printable Version

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There's a Fine, Fine Line - Driftwood - March 03, 2019

Driftwood's paws were sore and his eyes a bit bleary as he placed a small knot of his namesake down along the edge of the woodpile. He nudged it gently with his nose to align it just so and make it take its place in the patterned border he had created around the woodstack. He stepped back to consider its aligment with a small frown, tilting his head a little as his eyes roved across the tableau. His tail quirked upward and gave a tired little wag as he spotted the small smooth orange shell he thought especially fine, and the larger pink one that he'd actually fought off a crab for. Well, sort-of. And only a little crab—but still, he thought he deserved extra credit on that one.

It had been some days since he had seen @Moorhen. There was some sort of trip she had departed on, off to the mainland on some quest whose details Driftwood himself was quite fuzzy on. But she was due to return before too long, supposedly, and in the meantime he had hit upon this as a way to help keep his fretful self occupied. He didn't much like her disappearing on him like this, but was pretty certain that she'd take his trying to control her movements or go stalking after her even worse than their last disagreeable meeting over that stranger what's-his-face, uuuhhhh, right—Teleklos, thought Driftwood with some venom. And Driftwood found it increasingly important for some reason to do his best to make certain he stayed on her good side. He had some trouble explaining this urge even to himself, still, feeling her leadership somehow not quite satisfactory enough of an explanation, but nonetheless, it had kept his paws pretty firmly on the island side of the bridge save for a few quite brief anxious ventures across. (And that one notable time he'd found that orange shell along the landbridge's length). He hoped she would like what he'd done with the place, in her absence... He'd been all over the island's perimeter, even venturing close to the edge of the horses' turf on his little treasure hunt, and was proud to note that now his finds of only the best seashells and flotsam had managed to encircle themselves around the woodpile entirely.

As he turned to plod across the beach once again, stepping right back onto the latest several skeins of tracks the tide had not yet washed away, the wind changed and stopped him short. Driftwood raised his nose and took several deep drafts of the breeze's offerings. He'd managed to fool himself into thinking he'd caught wind of Moorhen or one of her companions several times before over the last several days, but though he gave his head a brisk shake to try and clear the cobwebs and only-half-awake dreamhazes from it, this time even as the breeze died back again he thought he could catch a distinct whiff of the female's scent. The weary droop faded from his posture as he straightened up and took another deeper yet inhalation to try and make certain. He licked his lips anxiously, debating the wisdom of his next move, and then let out a small, low howl that quavered out his internal questioning of whether or not Moorhen could possibly be present once again.


RE: There's a Fine, Fine Line - Moor - March 18, 2019

AHHHH sorry for the wait <3
Returning home had been quite the relief. It had been as she was crossing the landbridge that she'd felt the shift within her; the time for conquering was over, and the time for fortifying had begun. So when she reached the beach, she'd said her hellos to Coelacanth, Stockholm, and the mudpuppies - and then she'd headed straight toward her den below the woodpile. She might've gone in and stayed there for some time if not for the reedy howl that reached her ears; the banded female paused, ears swivelling atop her dark head, and then turned to follow the sound to its source.

Driftwood was there upon the beach; Moorhen remembered how they'd last parted with a dull throb of guilt. She hadn't meant to hang him out to dry for so long, but other worries had overtaken her. "Driftwood," she greeted, her voice was warm as it ever got.


RE: There's a Fine, Fine Line - Driftwood - March 22, 2019

<3 No worries!

His eyes roved the sands anxiously for a few minutes that seemed to him to last much longer. Then she appeared, a small figure beyond the woodpile with her small dark ears turned attentively in his direction. His expression lightened all at once, and he opened his mouth again as his tail began to fan the air behind his rump ever-quicker, but found himself lost for words for another heartwrenchingly-long brief moment. Her voice caressing his name with no hint of her former anger was like balm to his soul as it swept into his own ears. Moorhen! he responded gladly, and flew across the sand toward her, hardly noticing that he stepped on one of his precious seashells as her rounded the woodpile in the process.

He skidded to a halt just before he reached her, an impressive spray of sand arcing in the wake of his paws. His feet couldn't keep themselves still however, and hopped and skipped about in delighted puppyish fashion. You're back, you're back— oh, it's so good to see you again! An ingratiating smile curved from ear to ear, but even in his enthusiasm he was careful to keep his body low, his brown ears half-folded and his tail below the level of his spine. He definitely did not want to upset her again like he had with Teleklos. No, he'd been trying so hard to be so very good, and hadn't gone after her (hardly) at all, see! Driftwood hoped that her little vacation from his presence would have softened Moorhen's harsh attitude from before...and while her tone of voice just now seemed promising, he was afraid to trust in that too far only to find himself mistaken. You've been gone so long, he babbled on, mostly relieved but also feeling a return of that same strange tension around her as before. And as was common with him, he tend with his fretfulness mainly by stepping up his unthinking torrent of words. I hope everything went all right, and where did you visit, anyway? His brain rang a few alarm bells as it heard him rambling on in this vein: wait, was it really a good idea to remind her that she'd been going to other places besides the home island here? What if she started to recall how much she'd liked it there, and wanted to return! Driftwood hastily plunged onward without really waiting for an answer, hoping to obscure such a possibility. Fortunately, he had a pretty good distraction right here at hand...he hoped.

I made you a thing, look! He blurted out the words and then danced a few pawsteps sideways, flicking his nose indicatively toward the newly-decorated borders of the tall stack of wood. I mean, I gathered a bunch of things and— well, as you can see, they're all here. Do you like it?! Oh crap, what if she didn't like it? What if she resented his interference in her absence, and demoted him, or ostracized him, or— or— I added to the pile in the middle a little too, I mean, that wasn't all I did while you— I can undo it if you don't like it though, right away, I promise. His eyes sought her face and scanned it in pleading desperation for a sign of either approval or wrath. He still wasn't quite certain what would summon the stormier side of her nature, but hopefully he hadn't stumbled upon the magic button to do so by accident, here. His tawny golden eyes flicked briefly back toward his artistic creation, and he visibly flinched as he spied the shell he'd stomped on earlier and cracked in half, half-raising a paw in its direction and wishing he could somehow run right over and fix it without Moorhen's noticing. Bit late for that now however, now that he had so eagerly pointed the whole thing out to her. Damn it! It had been almost perfect, until he'd blunderingly managed to ruin it again. He was all too good at that, wasn't he.