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+--- Thread: Totoka River a bookshelf, lined with published love letters to the moon. (/showthread.php?tid=33207)
a bookshelf, lined with published love letters to the moon. - Andraste - March 11, 2019
Aurëwen supposed, too, that it had been quite some time that she’d threaded her way down along the shore. A murky memory, murmuring of a salt-lord, hummed at the edges of her mind; she’d never learnt of his claim, or who he truly was, or even his name. But she remembered what he’d said of her brother — and wondered what he would think if he knew she’d found Vonnaruil. The impassivity of the skulled-one did not mute her well-wishes for his being; not that they’d ever meet again, she thinks.
Anyways.
Her treks spent with @Opalia weren’t without worth — at least, Aure meant to make it so. All along the way, the skayona had given and given and given all which she knew of her own excursions and the terrain she herself had traversed. Although Aure no longer had one paw out the border, wanderlust still hummed within her; as wanderers, it seems it would never be satiated.
As for foraging; some flora had gone unidentifiable, others recognized, and either way, the silver had, too, given her parts to Opalia as to what to look out for. Such schooling included what may be harvested and, if need-be, ingested without fear of harm to one’s physical state. Even as she lent to drink from the Totoka, she informed: ”Whether a species is edible or no, you will want to check for signs of mold. I have heard tell of death from thirst, starvation, but... I have not seen such a scenario, myself.”
RE: a bookshelf, lined with published love letters to the moon. - Opalia - March 12, 2019
possibly a cameo-type thing but i might post here and there anyway p: just don't wait on me ever
Now with a few more miles beneath her paws, and herself far more acclimated to the skayona's companies and tendencies as well, Opalia faced each destination with a bit more gusto than the last. She could handle this, and after her early tastes of what it was like to trek beyond together and see the places beyond, she thanked that for the growing confidence slowly pressing up through her every fiber.But, when the coastline was where their route cut, she couldn't deny that waver she felt when these paths were familiar from when Dacio and her had gone out, only to be chased back home by bad weather. Of course.. none of this was in store for them today, and on they went without an issue. Opalia fell quick into stride, all ears, and eager for a task to put herself to--no matter the weight, so this made her a very good listener as she naturally took to the role of help. But, of course, she was on watch too.. carefully skimming the horizon, or the thickets near.
She nosed along behind the snowy skayona, and gave a little snort, then imagined how miserable a death by thirst might have to be.
Sounds nasty,her face scrunched, she'd skip that one thank you.
So how do you know if it's mold?she quipped (assuming something so insidious might have many guises), then went trotting back closer to the healer's side so not to fall behind.
RE: a bookshelf, lined with published love letters to the moon. - Indra - March 16, 2019
the small band of reunited wolves had briefly broke for camp near the tokota river. indra relished the chance to pretend she was inland again. she hated the beach - how open it was, how loud it was, how it stung of salt any time she opened her mouth. she was reclining on an ancient scab of broken stone, glancing into the rushing river, when she heard from somewhere the trickling sound of voices.
at first, indra had no inclination to investigate. she was not a warm person, and for good reason - her heart had received many blows in its time, most of them from men -- which gave her a healthy wariness of strangers.
these voices, however, did not come from men. as the wind warped their tones and made them indistinct, indra could just barely decipher they were feminine. glancing up and then down the river, she saw neither -- but just beyond the bend, the voices came again.
she slid down from the rock with a grunt, reluctant to follow but equally reluctant to leave them be. if they were hostile, and indra ignored them, they could storm their encampment and undo all of the work she and laurel had done to reunite their family. setting her features to an expression of tired, but determined, the redleaf woman skirted the bend and the rise in the river just in time to see a snow-kissed she-wolf bending down for a drink.
like her, the woman was built finely -- and besides her a yearling lingered, nosing along the snow-capped basin. perhaps it was her daughter, which caused indra's defensive posture to somewhat slacken.
indra didn't say anything - not yet - she was still studying them and trying to figure out if they were alone when the wind turned against her, carrying her scent cleanly to them and betraying her location.
RE: a bookshelf, lined with published love letters to the moon. - Andraste - March 17, 2019
The Totoka bit at her scarred lips; and though the hurts have mended in their own time years ago, she still shivered at the phantom ache the waters tugged from her. Instead, she let Opalia’s inquiry snag her at her attentions, and the budding female slowly rose, then reclined to her hocks before answering. ”There are several forms of infestation, actually — mildew is more of a surface fungi, may be grey, white, and is prone to accumulate in moist environments. Mold, on ze other paw, may be grey or black fungi, but is a sign of a more serious infesting.”
Her hinds pudged their own attempts to accommodate for her heavy belly, leaving them pigeon-toed as she cast a fleeting glimpse back to the gona. ”Most younger foliage is suspectible to ze white mildew, which may have a ‘powdery’ to ze touch. Disfiguration of buds, leaves, and stems should come later in season when left untreated.” All the same, she tried to muster some sense of grace in feathering her thin tail about her heels.
”And, as for regular mold, which would be white mold, in common nature,” Aure continued, wobbling up onto all four, snowshoe paws before begging a little promenade down the rushing river’s flank, ”Buds and blossoms are prone to it, as are young seedlings. In short, it is important to evascrate any infected plants as soon as you notice. By the time there are lesions, it is already diseased.”
Met the silver of her own eyes as she finished with, ”It is not only plants which get this cottony plague — soil does, as well, and roots, I suspect. Wind and weather may carry spores of said mold, and that is usually how other vegetation gets infected, too. This is not unlike catching ze scent of another on ze breeze.” And with those final words, her starlit gaze seared right into where the ruddy lurker lingered.
All of this might have turned out to be a heartstopping, dramatic, cool moment — had the silver’s eyes not waxed to full-moon as she pawed the air before her mouth, now gasping in a mortified ’o’. Those argent eyes glanced away, a flush of shame surging into her self-appalled cheeks as she stuttered, ”O-of course, I-I’d never mean t-to compare one of my kind to f-fungi. Oh!—“ And with that, her fine head cast itself down as the blood beneath her skin smothered her senses. How could she have done such a thing?
RE: a bookshelf, lined with published love letters to the moon. - Indra - March 23, 2019
wrapping up with permission <3
while she was some ways away, indra caught most of the white sylph's mutterings. something about plants, or mold -- she was neither a medic, a toxicologist, nor a herbalist -- the subject matter did not seem particularly interesting to her.
she could have -- and should have -- called the argent's attention, but indra didn't. lapping from the water with an idle look, the redleaf coolly gazed at both and then turned on thin legs to disappear into the hinterlands.