Sleepy Fox Hollow Just Tackle Me!

All welcome. Hopefully, someone she hasn't officially met yet @Wylla @Anselm @Waxwing

The balance of a medic and a mercenary was a hard one to keep. Seemingly on the opposing side of the spectrum of helping and harming, they could come together in defense. Since joining Paleo it seemed Paeon's mercenary side was taking a back seat to make way for herbalist garden-making. Boring!

Don't get her wrong, she had been the one to make the garden and she knew it was important but still... Boring! Aside from Tierra wandering in here high and sleepy on poppies there hadn't been much excitement. Mahler had given a heads-up about Tikal and their upcoming invitation but all this waiting was... you guessed it. BORING

She was filled to the brim with energy. Another day where she galloped around the territory blowing off steam as she kept watch and scanned the borders. A piece of her hoped she would run into someone open to a wrestle or spar.

Anselm was another that was bored, though for different reasons. These days Siku was absent and his brother understandably withdrawn — Anselm found himself alone often. 

The clatter of feet on hardened trail drew his attention. Someone — or something — was galloping through the woods. Anselm took after the scents and tracks at an efficient trot, conserving his energy as he tracked after Paeon.

A small trip and then a tumble sent Paeon rolling through the grass. As she came to a halt, a joyful laugh erupted from her chest. The fall had not hurt, but it was a sudden change. The small burst of adrenaline still lingering in her blood now being expelled with laughter. She rolled onto her back and began to scratch a good itch. Rocking back and forth without a care in the world.

Laughter led Anselm to the spot where Paen's trajectory had gone from steady clip to upended roll. He hesitated in approaching, but her infectious laughter bid him from the thicket and by the time he was visible, his tail was swaying and a whisper of a grin hung across his face.

He looked her over - she didn't look hurt, in fact, presently she was scratching an itch. His eyes raised questioningly, wondering just what it was that had her in such high spirits today.

That's the spot. She continued to dig the area between her shoulder blades into the ground. Swaying side to slide she slowly rotated around until she saw her young dark and gray onlooker. His smile and swinging tail seemed to be in friendly spirits, so she saw no reason to change her toon.

"Hi-ya!" she greeted, her head turned to the side so he wasn't completely upside down from her perspective still laying on her back. "You're Anselm right?" she asked. She had heard the name in passing and seen him as well, but they hadn't had a chance to formally get to know one another yet.

Anselm's caution ebbed away as Paeon greeted him in a manner too ebullient to refute. His grin widened as he looked back at her - her head tilted sideways so she wasn't totally upside down. The comical pose struck Anselm as funny.

I am. Who are you? Anselm could guess -- these days the pack wasn't more than his family and a handful of stragglers. Some might have found such a fact sad, but Anselm thrived in knowing his pack was made of steadfast family members.

"Paeon!" she grinned rolling onto her stomach and stretching her legs out into the frog pose.

"I'm a combat medic" Did she technically have that title yet... no... but did that stop her from boasting about it with confidence... also no.

"I came over from Mereo. Same as Terra, but you may not have met her yet. Oh! And I came by choice. Not like her. She sorta wondered in late at death's door. But I saved her... again." was it a lie... no... was it greatly over exaggerated... yes.

Paeon. Combat Medic. Terra. 

So many unfamiliar words and titles to him. Anselm’s brow furrowed. 

How does one become a combat medic? he had so little training, so little experience outside of Paleo — now was a glimpse of what the other world has to offer, a pool of knowledge outside of his reach and understanding. 

He drew himself to a neat sitting pose besides Paeon, inquisitive and unaware of the slight exaggerations in her story.

Her smile widened as Anselm sat down and became her captive audience.

"Well, it's pretty much what it sounds like. You need to be skilled in combat, but also skilled as a medic." That didn't sound quite right. That sounded too easy, and the things she set out to do were never easy.

"But you have to do them together. Fighting alongside your comrades and being able to help them with medical emergencies right on the field. Making do with what's around you at the time." Yeah. That sounded cooler.

Anselm couldn't help himself - the first thing he thought was that Paeon didn't look like she was skilled in combat. She looked downright goofy -- was someone like her capable of cutting down another?

He gently guided his thoughts to things less critical. Paeon didn't deserve his judgment. She went on to describe how her role was truly that of a master multitasker. Anselm could hardly handle one task at a time.

How did you learn to be a combat medic, like who taught you to be good at fighting and then good at medical emergencies?

Perhaps the only thing Paeon liked more than asking questions was answering them.

"A bit from my parents and a bit from the others in my pack. I was raised amongst legends. Masters at their craft. It's sorta impossible not to pick up a thing or two just living in proximity to them."

Although she liked the conversation and questions she also had a knack for getting antsy. "What do you do? Or want to do? Any interested in combat?" she asked.

Anselm could not help what came next— perhaps uncharitably, he blurted: If they vere legends, vhy have I not heard of them?

He assumed his life was too insular for the gossip of common folk to reach his ears. Prompted to think of his own life, the boy answered with a shrug. I track things.

Why had he not heard of them? Clearly, he must not have heard of anyone or had been confined to the Teekon Wilds Paeon thought.  "Well... I haven't really said who they are have I? Which makes me think you haven't heard about many legends. Who have you heard of? Outside of the Teekon Wilds of course?" she asked.

An unexpected prickliness in Anselm rose. He could not tell if Paeon was challenging his knowledge or his intelligence. It was likely neither, but the boy was not so charitable.

I have heard of a vitch that steals puppies and drowns them in the sea. I have -- He paused, eyes flashing. I am not a pup; vhy do I need to tell you of puppy stories?

"Ah but I do not speak of puppy fairy tails." she bolstered energetically taking a moment to sit up and puff up her chest like a bard atop a soup box staring off into the distance dramatically. "I speak of legends. Those that have accomplished great things within our vary plane. So great that others can't help but talk about them and share their stories. Word of mouth is a powerful thing, although it has its regional limitations".

Looking back to her audience she asked "Don't you want to do something that great?"

Anselm had no patience for theatrics. In that way, he was every bit his mother’s child. 

Paeon launched up, chest inflating as she dramatically stared off into the distance. This earned her a pinned stare from Anselm. 

They must not have been that great, if I have not heard of them. He countered cynically, his playful mood as mercurial as the coming of a tide. Already he found it drawn out. I vill be leaving. I have better things to do than talk about puppy tales.

He slumped her off. Sorta like a child upset by things they could not understand pouting before storming off. Her question of what legends he had heard about seemed to go unanswered, and so she resolved to her initial assumption. That Anselm was a sheltered boy and had not heard of her birth pack's great deeds because he had heard very little of anything at all. A faint smile appeared on her muzzle as she shook her head taking silent pity on the boy as he left. "See ya around" her tone friendly.

Anselm’s childish outburst was met with maturity beyond his years, but he was too petulant to know it. 

He walked off at a loose gait, as if to communicate his utter disinterest. Paeon’s friendly tone carried behind him, but Anselm didn’t care — he was a teenager, god damn it, and it was his unalienable right to be as douchey as possible. 

He turned and made for the caches to settle his stomach, and in turn, his worsening mood.