February 22, 2018, 04:58 AM
(This post was last modified: March 11, 2018, 12:26 PM by Coelacanth.)
In which Coelacanth is convinced that she singlehandedly chased away a helicopter full of humans with dart guns. ♥ @Stockholm is welcome in all Seeliedog threads.
The growling roar of helicopters overhead wasn’t completely new to the sheepdog, who had seen her fair share of them throughout her puppyhood — but she didn’t like them. Metal. Cages. Winged ones, wheeled ones, stationary ones. Humans loved cages, and had different types for different situations. She remembered the shriek of her nails on their cold floors while her paws scrabbled wildly to gain purchase; she remembered the foul, steelvenom taste on her tongue when she’d tested the bars with her teeth. Above the mechanical whirring, she could hear the blurts of sporadic human speech, which only served to further sour her mood. Tufted ears flattened against her head with a clench of her slim jaws as she sought to shut the noise out, threading her way into a deep ravine, further from the coast than she was completely comfortable with.
Her sulking was brought about by two very different fears.
For one, the humans posed a threat to her person. She believed them to be stronger and faster than canids, even wild ones, because her view of them had been shaped in her youth.
More than that, though, she feared the loss of Stockholm.
She knew her companion had loved the Man with the same fierce devotion that Selkie had given the Woman — and because Stockholm’s experience had been very different, very positive, that was just more incentive in Coelacanth’s eyes for him to leave the wilds behind and nip at her heels. She had reached a point of trust with the Gampr that she believed he would not — could not! — do such a thing, but her fear was based around her own inadequacy. What could she possibly do to earn his love and keep him here? Did she even want to, if he might be happier elsewhere?
The flying cage drew closer, churning up the earth and causing it to rail against her tiny body. She threw herself into a run, low to the ground, darting this way and that. “Hold it! Stop, stop, stop!” cried an authoritative human voice — and though the command had not been meant for her, Seelie obeyed. She flattened herself against the ground and trembled, legs tucked awkwardly beneath her. The voices continued, though she only caught bits and pieces of them: “That’s not a wolf. What’s a dog doing way the fuck out here?” and, “Hell if I know, but Richter said that her team saw something that looked like a Borzoi the other day. Think she was kidding, though.”
Enough was enough. Defiantly, the tiny Groenendael pushed herself to a standing position and threw her head back, trying in vain to make eye contact with the human. The contrast in size was staggering, but she didn’t care. “Go away!” she “barked” and growled, hackles flaring to life along her spine as she showed every tooth in her mouth, body shaking like a feather in a wind tunnel. “Stockholm is mine!” All her magnanimity and empathy drained away in that instant.
Much to her astonishment, the helicopter began its ascent — and in a matter of moments, it was far away enough to ignore. She could still hear the echo of its roar, but it sounded defeated and disgruntled, which was exactly her goal. There was too much adrenaline coursing through her system to properly register her victory, though; still shaking, she curled herself into a tight ball and buried her nose in the feathered plume of her tail. Now and again, a soft, resentful “boof!” broke her silence: “Yeah, you better run.” They could keep their cages. She would keep her Stockholm.
Her sulking was brought about by two very different fears.
For one, the humans posed a threat to her person. She believed them to be stronger and faster than canids, even wild ones, because her view of them had been shaped in her youth.
More than that, though, she feared the loss of Stockholm.
She knew her companion had loved the Man with the same fierce devotion that Selkie had given the Woman — and because Stockholm’s experience had been very different, very positive, that was just more incentive in Coelacanth’s eyes for him to leave the wilds behind and nip at her heels. She had reached a point of trust with the Gampr that she believed he would not — could not! — do such a thing, but her fear was based around her own inadequacy. What could she possibly do to earn his love and keep him here? Did she even want to, if he might be happier elsewhere?
The flying cage drew closer, churning up the earth and causing it to rail against her tiny body. She threw herself into a run, low to the ground, darting this way and that. “Hold it! Stop, stop, stop!” cried an authoritative human voice — and though the command had not been meant for her, Seelie obeyed. She flattened herself against the ground and trembled, legs tucked awkwardly beneath her. The voices continued, though she only caught bits and pieces of them: “That’s not a wolf. What’s a dog doing way the fuck out here?” and, “Hell if I know, but Richter said that her team saw something that looked like a Borzoi the other day. Think she was kidding, though.”
Enough was enough. Defiantly, the tiny Groenendael pushed herself to a standing position and threw her head back, trying in vain to make eye contact with the human. The contrast in size was staggering, but she didn’t care. “Go away!” she “barked” and growled, hackles flaring to life along her spine as she showed every tooth in her mouth, body shaking like a feather in a wind tunnel. “Stockholm is mine!” All her magnanimity and empathy drained away in that instant.
Much to her astonishment, the helicopter began its ascent — and in a matter of moments, it was far away enough to ignore. She could still hear the echo of its roar, but it sounded defeated and disgruntled, which was exactly her goal. There was too much adrenaline coursing through her system to properly register her victory, though; still shaking, she curled herself into a tight ball and buried her nose in the feathered plume of her tail. Now and again, a soft, resentful “boof!” broke her silence: “Yeah, you better run.” They could keep their cages. She would keep her Stockholm.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »