Sea Lion Shores emigration tunes

@Murgash!

 

Feathers! And so white, too! Normally, she could find a few plumes of herons if she were lucky. Fortuna had told her that only the cleanest feathers could be used, and they could be used in all sorts of charms and remedies. Some, if you tied them to thin roots, could be left in the den's furthest point drenched in shadow and keep disease from the home. Others, if you wove them with moongrass and soaked them in lit waters, could ensure healthy pups when litters arrived. They'd always been reminders of family and health, and were generally a sign of safety. 

Needless to say, she was the happiest she'd ever been on this adventure of hers as the dark girl weaved from the Keep's base, close enough to hear the lazy bellowing and lowing of the great blubber things she'd seen on the beach. Carefully, she picked her way away from the mountainside nests and their leering hosts, the falcons' shrill cries less deafening with the slow sink of night. Out past the dunes and on the cradle of the ocean, the sun loomed bright and fat on its descent beneath the waves - some said that if you were quiet enough, you could hear it hissing on the water as it was swallowed up. With the way those birds screams still rang in her ears, and with the lowing of her blubbery company, Antigone didn't bother, placing her stash of feathers on her orange dune and separating the frayed from the intact, humming to herself all the while. 

thanks for starting!

 it was gentle  humming that first alerted Murgash  of another's presence -- though he could not say for certain if the wind was playing tricks on him. curious  but not entirely confident in the veracity of the humming's direction, he pricked both ears forward and walked slowly towards the source. 

it was a wolf -- and a most curious one at that. the mangy male decided right then and there that this wolf had no peer, no rival, in both her exoticism and beauty. it did not take much to make Murgash gravitate towards a woman (really, all it required was the correct equipment) yet something about this steely creature drew him implicitly and inexorably forwards. 

"wots wit de feathers?" he asked, keeping his distance in case she was a witch like Lagertha -- last thing he wanted was a hex on his nethers.

ofc! ~ uvu/

One ear flipped his way the moment he spoke, but Antigone didn't look up until she was content with the process of her two neat little piles. They weren't very large, but they were enough - the ruined feathers could be used for decoration, the clean ones for trinkets. All in all, it wasn't a bad haul in the slightest. Then, she looked up — and it took her all her body strength not to jerk her head backward. Dude, grooming. It's a thing. It was a wonder he didn't smell (maybe he wasn't close enough to smell), but she let her lips waver into a small, lofty smile as she was bred to do, letting her eyes drift proudly to her little stash.

"They're for a charm, hopefully," she mused, her voice warm and light like duh, what else would they be for? She sent him a sideways glance through dark lashes, lips curling wryly. "What's with the accent?" He sounded like a mudcrawler; and while they were a vital part of the moon-fallen, they still always sounded a little... dense. Hopefully, he wouldn't get as mad as they did when she teased the ways they said certain words.

murgash flipped a torn ear towards her, catching the somewhat hardly-veiled tone of her voice. as if feather collecting was a thing where she came from and he was the halfwit -- apparently, both were true. when she turned to face him whatever conviction he had made prior about her being the most beautiful thing was triplicated intensely.

forget lagertha - forget doe - forget even that coyote that teased him on the strand -- this lady was his newest conquest, he knew it.

he better not mess up his chances by saying anything rash. that was, until she mentioned his accent. what? his ears flipped forward in self-importance. how dare! as far as he was concerned, she was the one with the accent! "it's for a charm hope'fully." he replied back, somewhat ironically. "ye want to see wot else is charmin' about ole murgy?" he grinned widely, drool effusing through his crooked teeth.

so much for not saying anything stupid.

She can't help a broad, bratty smile when those ever-familiar ears of indignance swoop forward, his response oozing with sass (and drool — ew), but the words that follow bring the corners of that open-mouthed smile down, her grin melting slowly as golden eyes grew very, very bored. "I like a little mystery, thanks," she mused through half-lidded lashes, unimpress written everywhere on her face. Come on, what was she, six months? She'd been in her heat at least once before, dude, she knew what was 'charming' about all men - if at least the ones in Phyrgia.

Setting about her business with her feathers once again, Antigone let her shoulders relax from their boredom, though she was by no means unaware. Force wasn't a common practice in Phyrgia, but she knew it happened; she'd made plenty of trinkets for the prevention of litters by force, that was for damn sure. Glancing up toward where the sun touched the horizon, she hummed for a minute, keeping her feathers down through a gust of wind before looking back at Ol' Drooler. "So, I know a Totoka, and I know a Teekon; where do you come from, ερπετό?" It didn't hurt to make conversation, so long as he didn't spit that drool when he talked too much.

mystery. what was it with broads and mystery? murgash's eyes narrowed and had he arms he would have crossed them in a pout -- as far as he was concerned, he was doing all the dames in the world a great and honorable service by being so forthright. that way, the ladies weren't left wondering (for let's face it, what guy doesn't let a lady feel the sting of disappointment?).

she turned back to her feathers and his scowl continued, though he was given ample time to check out her structure while her back was turned. thanks, evolution, for granting the body no eyes in the back of the head! though, as murgash considered the marvel that was binary evolution in its' greatest form, he could not help but wonder if some wolves did have eyes in the back of their head.

like doe, for instance -- who knew it was him that had eaten all her food. witchcraft and sorcery!

his gaze (and mind) snapped back to antigone, and he had no idea what either of the things she said was. "wot's det?" he pressed his ugly muzzle forward, cupping an ear towards her the way a grandpa would adjust a hearing aid: "sounds like ye've got fethers in ye mouth - tokota an' some shit. wot's det, 'yipenyto'? is thet even a word?" he leaned back, making a startling discovery:

she liked feathers.
she liked speaking gibberish.

the lines had to be connected: she was feather brained.