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+--- Thread: Blacktail Deer Plateau feed them on your dreams. (/showthread.php?tid=47870)
feed them on your dreams. - Titmouse (Ghost) - June 29, 2021
Tags for reference!
While @Blueberry slept in the den nearest the rendezvous site he had found, Mou took the time to investigate some of the children's favorite hiding places since their move. There was a hollowed out log that someone had dragged off a precipice, and within it he found @Vesper sleeping; there were no signs of the other children, and in a fit of protectiveness he scooped up the girl by the nape and touted her back to the den, where he carefully deposited her.
As he left the mouth of the den again he paused. Mou's heart was racing and he felt tired, but above all, thirsty. The heat wave continued to grow more dire and he fretted all the more; Prevost and Peregrine were so small and so dark, the sun would surely harm them. He sank to his haunches at the den mouth after that, conflicted, as he wanted to be out there hunting for them but he knew he wouldn't be of much help.
@Phox had been hunting for days, with @Meerkat's help; still, Mou was incensed, and would keep an eye out (since that was all he could do) in case they found their own way home. He had half a mind to ask @Maegi to trail her way back to the island just in case, but — he did not, knowing she was needed here even more than he.
RE: feed them on your dreams. - Cobalt - July 01, 2021
snatching this up! :)
His bones ached, his skin ached.
On his neck it felt too tight. Each crane of his neck bloomed pain on a wound he could not see. Yet he felt it there like a haunting phantom that refused to leave him alone, like a child being yanked by mother dearest.
Mother? —
The thought whisked away as quick as it arrived. His senses blossomed beyond just the pain that encompassed him. His descent from the wall brought with it scents of others. Life thrived here.
It curled a disgusted sensation in his gut. Dread soon followed. Only deepened as he spotted a pale (-ish? he saw colors of other kinds along the figure barely) figure nearby.
Without a second thought, his tail pressed tightly against his underside and he was quick to make for a path wide around the stranger. Eyes trained closely on them to watch for movement or voice.
RE: feed them on your dreams. - Titmouse (Ghost) - July 02, 2021
There was movement on his blind side; it trailed barely in to his vision and so Mou's head snapped towards it. Something low and dark moving between the trees, receding among the shadows. The father's heart thrummed with hope; he knew the other children were tucked together now and would be safe for a few minutes.
As he sought to investigate Mou moved as quickly as he could. He was agile for all his height — nearly silent too, thankfully. The shape was trying to arc away from him and it moved too quickly for it to be one of the lost children. Mou cut through a gap in the trees and trailed down a ridge of stone, effectively cutting the length of his trajectory in half, and nearly caught up with the stranger.
They were indeed a stranger; not one of the children and not anyone familiar. He boofed at them; they were caught now, and Mou would not let them go without delving first in to his questions. Besides, further ahead the plateau steeply dropped off — there would be no escaping.
RE: feed them on your dreams. - Cobalt - July 02, 2021
His two options were neither ones he wanted.
He could fall —
Oh, that fear feels familiar, don't it?
That voice reared again in the back of his head. His own voice, he thought.
Or he could meet the man's teeth. Not that any showed, but fearful instinct had Makan's head twisted to think that such a thing awaited him in close quarters.
That feels familiar too. All of this is. . . known to you.
His tail pressed against his underside would hardly hide the scent that escaped from him. Urine. Sharp from dehydration. He shrunk with his embarrassment, eyes fixed at the dark paws of the man.
RE: feed them on your dreams. - Titmouse (Ghost) - July 02, 2021
In all his days Mou had never encountered a creature like this. The way they skulked, so close to the dirt, wrapped up in their own tail while staring at him with fear. Mou had been in this position before but in reverse; he did not like the sight of the stranger and even less, the knowledge that he was causing them such upset. Regardless of why they were here, Mou empathized and regretted his involvement.
He did not back down immediately, either. As the stranger flattened and the smell of urine filled the air Mou wove closer, only to slacken in his resolve and pause before he got close enough that the stranger might strike him.
You are afraid.It was difficult for Mou to make his broad shoulders less imposing, but he ducked his head and lowered his tail considerably, watching the panic in the stranger's gaze.
Please, don't be.He said, his voice so soft, like speaking to a child whose ears have only newly uncurled.
I am looking for my daughter.Mou's single eye focused intently on the dark face of the stranger as they snaked low.
Have you seen...?He hadn't given a description; in his fervor he had forgotten.
RE: feed them on your dreams. - Cobalt - July 03, 2021
Is this a begging for your forgiveness? That’s new, boy.
Yet it worked. Makan lived for the way he was spoken to. As if he was a child still pressed along the curve of a mother.
The world was so new to him. Large and complex.
This brought feelings of comfort in all the confusion.
Granted the latter gripped him tightly when the man switched from his comfort to questions. The urine-stretched trespasser did not know what to say. Everything felt wrong in his brain. Yet the longer he thought the more a dull pain built in his skull. As if each new thought bulged against the walls of his head.
No.
So much thought for such little word. Speak up!
I don’t. . . I don’t know her. Who?
RE: feed them on your dreams. - Titmouse (Ghost) - July 20, 2021
Denial. They had not seen anyone, or maybe they lied; Mou didn't have the heart to doubt them and instead, deflated.
She is small and dark, with some red if you see her in the daylight.He spoke quickly, his words occasionally whistling or turning breathy in his haste. Though the throat wound he sported was a scar from long ago, Mou's voice could still be affected.
He turned from the stranger then, giving them more space.
Sorry for.. disturbing you.He murmurs, drawing further away.