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+--- Thread: Big Salmon Lake he's the ruffian on the stair (/showthread.php?tid=8301)
he's the ruffian on the stair - Boone Moyer - March 13, 2015
Fishing tended to take a lot out of Boone, hence his present lazing. Jaws spread wide in a great, whole-body yawn, and the muscles in his face were stretched so tight that he had to shake his flat head afterwards in order to rid himself of the residual tingling in his scarred cheeks. Boone licked his chops, lidded eyes lingering on closure as he peered out onto the mid-day lake. The breeze riled the water, and he watched the waves without really seeing them.
He had dried quickly in the past hour, but was still damp and spiky in some places. His forefront had been appropriately cleaned after demolishing several salmon, except the few faded blotches of blood that clung deep on his pale fur, and the scent of fish that unmistakably clung to him—neither of which bothered the cowboy very much. He slid down onto his belly, but kept his head raised and ears relaxed so as not to be caught totally unawares.
RE: he's the ruffian on the stair - Komik - March 15, 2015
the sullen silver spectre of a wolf climbed the ridge, as the lake-water rushed past and with the gaze of one who saw far into the distance, she watched the wind whip the water into soft peaks. she had happened upon hard times these past few weeks, spring rushing on about her and still she was stuck in the vancouver winter that sang in her blood, a merry tune that shouted in the spring that winter would come again. food hadn't been too plentiful, the darkness of the north had yet to settle from her bones and the soft scent of fish upon the wind was driving her stomach into knots.
there, upon the hill.
a wolf lay across the ground, eyes facing the soft-peaked water of the lake but ears pricked for sound. it did not faze her, she came with no shame for her presence. perhaps she could ask this wolf to teach her how to catch those slimy buggers in the river. she'd tried and tried, to no avail.
"how do you? i don't suppose a wolf like you'd mind teaching me how to catch those fish down there? i've been here a few days and caught nary a one."
there, upon the hill.
a wolf lay across the ground, eyes facing the soft-peaked water of the lake but ears pricked for sound. it did not faze her, she came with no shame for her presence. perhaps she could ask this wolf to teach her how to catch those slimy buggers in the river. she'd tried and tried, to no avail.
"how do you? i don't suppose a wolf like you'd mind teaching me how to catch those fish down there? i've been here a few days and caught nary a one."
RE: he's the ruffian on the stair - Boone Moyer - March 15, 2015
An ear turned way of his guest, followed by the crease of his thick neck as he turned his head in the direction of her. Mis-matched eyes took in the wolf, a wild snow nymph who smelled deep and stormy and of the many miles she had traveled. He regarded her carefully, but she approached without hesitance or threat, and Boone was confident enough not to be afraid of her anyway.
Though it was likely he should've been. She was nothing short of an embodiment of a harsh north winter, with her immaculate coat and dangerous eyes, and it was difficult to tell just yet what destruction her presence might bring.
"Sure, miss," Boone grunted as he pushed himself up from his belly and gave his dusty, barely dry frame a good shake. It was easy for him to offer his services when asked. Times like these were ones where he wasn't left alone with his thoughts, where he could flourish in what he was good at and not worry for anything besides his work. "It's all about patience, so if you're lackin' that, this ain't gone work," he warned her before wading back into the water.
"The trick is to stand still long enough for the fish to get comfy comin' around your legs. Then after that it's just about timing and aim." He motioned for her to come stand beside him. "They can also hear real good for some reason," he shrugged, not really understanding this himself but he was witness to the phenom nonetheless. "They'll start comin' once everything's quiet."