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Big Salmon Lake s y m p h o n y - Printable Version

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s y m p h o n y - Quail - April 05, 2019

s h e  o u g h t  n o t  t o  h a v e  s u r v i v e d. 
the winter had been hard to the foundling, but there was only so much her already spindly form could be reduced. her ribs lay bare to the cold, which made her bones its home and nestled there so that she may not sleep. a curved line of festering red marred one feather-light cheek, a week old, a reminder that her submission did not always save her. it had been a yearling, cruel and brimming with unearned courage, and she had been a soft target. better to take this than to subject herself to the possibility of more hurt. 

she moved like a phantom parallel to the lakeshore, liable to be reshaped, scattered, by the wind in any instance. the cold had grown to be a friend, and it huddled close as the wind off the water raked its claws through her fur. if she were to die, she mused, there would be nothing to tether her to the earth and the wind would bear her back to the heavens, where certainly she'd be set adrift amongst the clouds and never settle again. 
i t  w a s  n o t  g o o d  t o  t h i n k  o f  t h e s e  t h i n g s.



RE: s y m p h o n y - Dagmar - April 05, 2019

he didn't like the open. it was too unprotected, his mind tried to realistically think. nononono came a deeper, more primal tone. people see. people hurl sticks and rocks and shit and fire oh gods the FIRE -- stop. peace. he was peaceful. he was calm. he was... safe? that was always the question posed. was he safe? never, 'was he happy' for happiness was a pipe dream. and that dream never came to him. slowly, his legs pulled him out of the thicker woodlands. his head was down, inching closer to the water without seeing the other.

or maybe he did, choosing to ignore her sweet scent in favor of reaching the liquid. a salmon tongue rolled from his jaws, lapping greedily the substance provided. the beast did not give an inkling of recognition to the female. he was fully absorbed in his task. though if he had a mind to, he would submerge himself into the waters. he was absolutely filthy. crimson caked his fur, dirt and grime unwashed with unknown origins. he looked wild with his coat sticking up at random angles. his ears tattered, tail fluffed out. like something had crawled...

...from the depths of the underworld. digging and digging from the grave itself. until finally the dirt didn't bother him and he didn't see the light but he wanted the light and... stop it. the beast'd give an irritable shake of his head, snarling softly to himself. perhaps it was best he didn't see the small lady. it was unclear if he wanted others involved in his personal crazy. with another shake of his head, he'd try to turn back to disappear into the foliage. but the large paws caught underfoot a branch that craaaaaacked under his weight. he'd look up, startled. as if he didn't know he had even done such a thing. he was properly thrust into the spotlight now.



RE: s y m p h o n y - Quail - April 06, 2019

he did not see her, but she saw him. already she was slowing, stopping, lowering first her front and then her rear to the cold earth, which sucked and pulled at her feather pelt as if it wished to pull her into the earth. her tail curled tightly around her abdomen, her feathered ears wilted. her gaze was kept averted on the lake, and she fell utterly still. she watched the waters with slowly mounting horror, silver gaze sharp and searching for any abnormal ripple. how often had she dreamt of great things existing, living, eating beneath the waves, when sleep came stalking? tongue rasped across her lips, and the beast retreated. 

s n a p. she cringed into herself, the snap echoing across the lake. she stilled again. to submit was to be safe, and low and still as she was, she thought herself perfectly that.


RE: s y m p h o n y - Dagmar - April 06, 2019

he was still for an ungodly amount of time. eyes wide, shock settling in well, fur bristling beneath his muscular upper body. and slowly, ever so slowly, he would shift. first, he caught the scent. then? then he saw her. low to the ground, a pale water nymph. inside, deep inside, he would purr. the guttural sound bursting out quietly as if he was clicking his tongue slowly. or like his neck was cracking as he turned toward her. 

female. he had known she was there, in some small part of his mind, but to see her now? she was readily submissive, his mind told him, and maybe she wouldn't mind if he approached. but to what intent? females... never hurt him. sure, they bit and clawed and scratched if he did bad things but so far none had charged at him with the intent to hurt. the beast would continue to stare before he shot his head down, ears back and a warning growl pulsating. 

but he did not approach her. instead, he began to edge away. as if her presence was a threat to his well being. or perhaps he simply didn't trust himself with her. a moment of clarity. nothing more. "g...gaaa...oooo" go. don't fucking sit there, bitch, just go.



RE: s y m p h o n y - Quail - April 06, 2019

he made sounds but she ignored them, focussing merely on the water. he would slink away because she was no threat and she would remain here for a moment, two, and she would run and let the wind take her. one, two, three. counting was easier than watching the ripples in silence, and she did so, reverently, in her mind. she lingered on the verge of turning over and becoming fully and totally submissive, but her bat-like ears could hear his retreat, and so she was still. 

and then he was no longer retreating, but a long, guttural word stretched the space between them. she coiled tightly in on herself, rolling onto her back and drawing all her limbs close, similar to the death pose of a spider. this she held, though her head was still tilted away from him and towards the ripples, where she imagined some shadow beyond the field of her vision. it began to rain, then, and her coat soaked up each drop eagerly, and the cold grew more.


RE: s y m p h o n y - Dagmar - April 06, 2019

she didn't run. she sort of just... flopped. the beast gave another moment's hesitation before jumping forward. he was quick to close the distance, now hovering over her rolled body with an expression of wild confusion. she had just rolled over. random. was still. even more random. was she... was she dead? he didn't really like that. death was always a sad thing. placing his large paws on either side of her head, he'd bend over to tap her forehead with his muzzle. did he kill her?

eat her came a dark thought as he reared backward. eat her the body'll go to waste eat her she's just lying there eat her she wants to die eat her you coward eat her she's for the taking EAT HER! no. no no no. he wouldn't he couldn't he won't. the beast gave a guttural sound of anguish before backing away. whether she was alive or not, he wasn't going to eat her. in his simple mind, he failed to even realize the rise of her chest. breathing. living. 

he merely sat there, watching over her 'body' with a few guilty glances toward her every few seconds. "saaa...reeeee" sorry. was the sight of him so unbearable that she had just keeled over and died? what'd he do now? what could he do?



RE: s y m p h o n y - Quail - April 07, 2019

he neared and her eyes closed, daring not to even look at him. her breathing was quiet, measured, and she expected him only to investigate and leave her there. she was not expecting the heavy touch of his muzzle on her forehead, and only practiced submission kept her eyes from flying open to see the looming face above. she held still, and quiet, and did not imagine the lake monsters. 

the stretched out word seemed deafening, now that he stared down at her, and for a moment she was still as her mind worked its meaning and how best to respond. eyes still closed, carefully, she replied, "it's okay." it truly wasn't - nothing about this was ok, but forgiveness, docileness, won more battles than any attempt at boldness. if not win, exactly, then certainly avoided.


RE: s y m p h o n y - Dagmar - April 07, 2019

he'd shuffled away from her by choice. not trusting the coming saliva threatening to overpower his lips. not trusting how she just lay there on her back with her stomach ripe for cutting. to get to the soft organs below, all he had to do was tear away the ribcage blocking his access. he could do that. he could! he - oh fuck did she just talk? the beast's eyes shot back toward the lady. he was still for a while, too long really, before he gave a whine.

she said it was 'okay' but was it really? he lowered himself fully to the ground, creeping closer to her. wanting to believe it was okay and that she was potentially 'safe' from any advances. his nose sniffed, finding her scent welcoming, shooting out to try and bury itself in her neck ruff. she had essentially told a child it was perfectly fine, that his actions were fine and he lapped up the attention it brought. the positivity. so like the large child he was, he sought validation.



RE: s y m p h o n y - Quail - April 07, 2019

not good not good not good. "it's okay." she repeated when he whined. she smelled of rot and metal and yet his actions were that of someone simple-minded, who understood positive and negative and reaction and nothing more. perhaps she should run but the scar on her cheek reminded her of what came of boldness, and so she was still. there was something heavy and damp in her ruff, and though she swallowed, she did not shift. 

simple-minded. she would proceed with caution but would take a slightly different route than was her norm. "shhh. good."  she was not sure where she was going with this, but if she could subdue the beast and escape here before the lake-creature became more than figments of her imagination, she would have met her goal.


RE: s y m p h o n y - Dagmar - April 08, 2019

no, it wasn't okay. not in any sense of the word. but his mind was too childish to realize he was a large beast and perhaps cuddling close was not really the way to go. a soft whine escaped him at the nice lady's words. if he had a conscious of his own self, he would have washed the muck from his coat in her company. he failed to know just how disgusting his appearance had become in the many hours, months or years of solitude. 

his lips parted amongst her fur, echoing her word. "ga...gaaa oood?" what was 'good'? he forced his mind blank, for he knew what good was. what it had lead to, how obedience got him hurt. in pain. in agony. so now he just didn't give a shit. he was surprised that the word came from a person so obviously frightened of him. the beast would lift his head, staring down at her. "no... no dead?" he'd ask, for she had keeled over and now was talking.



RE: s y m p h o n y - Quail - April 09, 2019

she dared to breath more than the shallow breaths she'd allowed herself, and the sylph drew into her lungs the scent of him, thick and cloying with rot and metal. the cold wet of the lake shore was beginning to soak into her skin, her spine, and sandwiched between the cold earth and the beast, the woman considered her options. she could run, but he would catch her. she could lie here, but there was the looming possibility that she should err and the simple-minded beast would take offense and harm her where she lay. 

her gaze moved to the water. she could swim - yet to move into the lake would be to risk him pursuing her into deeper waters, where the beasts that caused the ripples surely lay. "not dead." pick. chose. quickly, now, before she faltered. "thirsty."  she withdrew and carefully, slowly, made to stand, not daring yet to move and instead waiting to see how he would accept this first motion.


RE: s y m p h o n y - Dagmar - April 09, 2019

"tha...err..." he tried to sound it out, growing quickly frustrated with his lack of communicating. if he was a human, he would have shot his fist through a wall. he'd give an irritable shake of his head as she moved, but made no further movement to stop her. deep down he knew that she was leaving. that he had scared the pretty lady and she was going to run fast. far. away from him. but he didn't know if he was going to chase her down or not. 

instead, he focused on what he could do. if she was thirsty... he lept to his paws quickly, swinging his body to the waters. he didn't understand why she wouldn't drink it as it was. she was close by the water, so... maybe she couldn't? maybe there was something wrong with her snout. the beast peered closely at her face, seeing nothing. his head shot back to the water, making a few 'mmphrf' sounds as he bobbed his head. confused why she didn't take a drink if she was so parched.

he'd stand guard. he was good at that.



RE: s y m p h o n y - Quail - April 09, 2019

she sensed his frustration. it was jagged, like the broken-off quills of a porcupine, and pricked at her fear evermore. but he withdrew, even if he stared and glowered, and when he buried his head in the water she took a step towards the lake edge, slinking, carefully. and then further, until she stood with all four paws in the frigid cold, and she lowered her muzzle to the surface as if to drink. and then she moved out further, and had the universe access to speakers and youtube, the Jaws theme would most certainly be playing. 

the silt of the lakebed was no longer in reach of her paws, and smoothly, in the manner of an otter, she slid smoothly into the water and began then to swim in earnest, face set stoically, yet ears slicked back and tail curled inward even under the surface of the water.


RE: s y m p h o n y - Dagmar - April 09, 2019

his mind... was not there. not really. he failed to grasp mostly anything by choice that was flung at him. one moment she was there, the next she was not. the girl had slipped under the water by her own choice, choosing to get away from him as quickly as possible. "gah?" he'd moan, blinkingly weary eyes at the spot she had left. if he was upset, his confusion covered it pretty damn quickly. the beast had no inkling of his revolting appearance nor his own simple thoughts.

he assumed she had faded away - knowing realistically that wasn't true down there in his mind - and had left him. maybe she had been a ghost. the thought was not frightening. little frightened him nowadays. and if he had a mind, he could have reached down in the watery depths and pull her out forcefully. he may be lonesome, but he was not nearly psychopathic to enforce his company on people. yet. so perhaps for the little angel, it was better for her to swim away.

before the shit hit the actual fan. he'd remain by the shore for a few moments before turning back to the treeline. lumbering toward the safety of the foliage, he'd soon vanish. leaving her attempted escape behind, and thinking this had all been a figment of his imagination.