Rian was hungry. His stomach gurgled, causing the two toned earthen colored juvenile to squirm as it grumbled audibly the second time around. A low groan of protest left his lips as he blinked sleepily, shuffling around, trying to avoid disturbing the den's other occupants. It was early in the morning: the sun was up, as told by the light that filtered in through the rendezvous den's open mouth as it yawned but his eye lids were still heavy and though he fought against it, his head buried against his front paws and a low huff left his lips as he quickly and efficiently dozed off. It was a talent, that. Yet, his stomach gurgled again, violently, and for a moment in it's demand for food he wasn't so sure he wasn't going to be sick. He was running on empty and his body was generous with letting him know that it wasn't pleased about it.
He shook off the last lingering traces of sleep before he pushed himself to his paws and loped outside the den, squinting his eyes — a milky blue starburst with green as they made their transition to their adult coloration — as they took a few seconds to adjust to the sudden onslaught of soft, morning light. He paused only long enough to allow his eyes to adjust before he set off. He wanted to hunt on his own. He knew going into it that he likely wasn't going to be successful and as much as he enjoyed having food brought to him (because it was always there for him) he wanted to emulate the adults he'd watched hunt. They made it look easy, so surely it had to be easy! He was confident as he followed a nutlike aroma, stopping when he found the small chipmunk.
He wasn't successful and eventually the rodent scurried up the tree out of Rian's reach and after a frustrated snarl at it, the juvenile turned with a loud huff and stomped his way back to the den (of which he had not gone all that far from) following the scent of whatever fresh kill someone had dropped off for them. He neared it (a few rabbits), grabbed one by the scruff and tugged it off to the side where he angrily tore away strips of meat from his breakfast and chewed as if it personally offended him.
He shook off the last lingering traces of sleep before he pushed himself to his paws and loped outside the den, squinting his eyes — a milky blue starburst with green as they made their transition to their adult coloration — as they took a few seconds to adjust to the sudden onslaught of soft, morning light. He paused only long enough to allow his eyes to adjust before he set off. He wanted to hunt on his own. He knew going into it that he likely wasn't going to be successful and as much as he enjoyed having food brought to him (because it was always there for him) he wanted to emulate the adults he'd watched hunt. They made it look easy, so surely it had to be easy! He was confident as he followed a nutlike aroma, stopping when he found the small chipmunk.
He wasn't successful and eventually the rodent scurried up the tree out of Rian's reach and after a frustrated snarl at it, the juvenile turned with a loud huff and stomped his way back to the den (of which he had not gone all that far from) following the scent of whatever fresh kill someone had dropped off for them. He neared it (a few rabbits), grabbed one by the scruff and tugged it off to the side where he angrily tore away strips of meat from his breakfast and chewed as if it personally offended him.
As ruthless as it all may seem the wild cares not for the weaker beings.
August 29, 2016, 01:30 PM
Cypress slipped out of the whelping den early that morning on a jaunt that was initially only supposed to be a quick trip to relieve himself — but a clumsy flutter of wings and a strangled-sounding “rrrawwwk!” immediately snared his attention. Eyes that were muddily transitioning from misty blue to eerie yellow sparked with interest as gangly paws brought him in the direction of the sound and oversized ears drew forward upon his crown. Long moments later, guided by the odd sounds, he came upon a raven fledging hunched on a hollow log, blue-black feathers ruffled in displeasure as frowning beak clacked together disapprovingly. The fledgling was a patently grumpy creature, and as his wings spread with an uncannily pterodactyl-like screech, Cypress laid his ears flat upon his skull and backed a few feet away. The baby bird hissed threateningly at Cypress, whose hackles flickered to life, wild and unkempt along his neck and shoulders as he, too, hunkered down to hold his ground. A curl of lip brought a thready growl in sassy reply to the hissing. They bore an uncanny resemblance to one another.
In the end, it was the bird who gave in, and Cypress puffed out his broadening chest with pride — another enemy had been vanquished in the name of Neverwinter! Further and further through the forest he followed the raven — “giddout’n stay out!” he snapped in his most threatening tone — until the fledgling’s mother took exception to the harassing wolf cub and dive-bombed Cypress with talons outstretched. Reflexively he cried out and curled himself into a tight ball, deflecting the blow with the longer fur at the nape of his neck. It didn’t break skin, but the flutter of wings that beat into him made him dizzy and frightened, and he fled further into the forest with his tail between his legs. If nothing else, Cypress was built for endurance and speed — and he didn’t know how long he ran before he came to a side-heaving stop.
The smell of fresh meat soon reached his nostrils, and he followed it like a cartoon caricature of himself — noise pointed skyward, eyes half-closed as he endeavored to find the delectable source, saliva pooling in the concave dip beneath his lolling tongue. He saw the chocolate and caramel boy with the irritated expression and dropped to his haunches in the dust a healthy distance away, catching his breath with a gusty sigh. “Didja hunt all those?” he questioned incredulously, regarding the older boy with something akin to astonishment.
In the end, it was the bird who gave in, and Cypress puffed out his broadening chest with pride — another enemy had been vanquished in the name of Neverwinter! Further and further through the forest he followed the raven — “giddout’n stay out!” he snapped in his most threatening tone — until the fledgling’s mother took exception to the harassing wolf cub and dive-bombed Cypress with talons outstretched. Reflexively he cried out and curled himself into a tight ball, deflecting the blow with the longer fur at the nape of his neck. It didn’t break skin, but the flutter of wings that beat into him made him dizzy and frightened, and he fled further into the forest with his tail between his legs. If nothing else, Cypress was built for endurance and speed — and he didn’t know how long he ran before he came to a side-heaving stop.
The smell of fresh meat soon reached his nostrils, and he followed it like a cartoon caricature of himself — noise pointed skyward, eyes half-closed as he endeavored to find the delectable source, saliva pooling in the concave dip beneath his lolling tongue. He saw the chocolate and caramel boy with the irritated expression and dropped to his haunches in the dust a healthy distance away, catching his breath with a gusty sigh. “Didja hunt all those?” he questioned incredulously, regarding the older boy with something akin to astonishment.
bad, bad rian. xD
The rapid pitter-patter of small paws against the earthen floor caught the Syrian King's attention, his ears perking atop his skull, only for his left ear to twitch and splay to the side at the heaving breath that was taken. He didn't look up from his breakfast as he continued to tear and chomp on it in an extremely unbecoming manner that probably would have gotten him scolded by his mother if she'd been present. She wasn't, as far as Rian could tell, and so he continued to eat like a little monster: with an utter disregard for manners. He assumed that the approaching footfalls belonged to one of his siblings and hadn't bothered to look up. Thus, he was thoroughly taken off guard when the voice that came from the other small body nearby did not belong to one of the O'Malley brood. Startled, for a moment, Rian looked up at his cousin, as the younger boy's question finally sunk into his head as he swallowed the mouthful of meat he'd gobbled up. Salmon pink tongue stained with crimson blood slid across his jowls to clean his muzzle up a bit as he regarded Cypress and the look the younger boy gave him.
All at once it filled him with something that he didn't quite understand to be guilt: torn between wanting to tell the truth but not wanting to let Cypress down in the process. They were not his kill. In fact, what he had intended to kill had slipped expertly from his amateur paws and that was why he was here in the first place, scarfing down the breakfast that he'd only wanted to be able to contribute to. Lying was bad. Rian knew this. But what would it really hurt? Cypress had sort of made the assumption to begin with and...how could he break the truth when his young cousin was giving him that look? Rian just wanted to be a hero, even if the accomplishment wasn't his to claim. Still, the guilt and consideration of right and wrong wasn't enough to stop the eldest O'Malley son from saying: “Yeah, I did it.” With a slight puff of his chest, though his heart beat sped up as the lie spilled from his lips. He bit down on his bottom lip softly, half expecting someone to come flying out of the den or bushes and scold him for lying to Cypress.
He felt a slight pang of guilt but he waved it away. “You want somma mine?” Rian offered the younger boy, gesturing invitingly, hoping that by offering to share his breakfast it would offset the bad deed of the little white lie he'd spoken.
All at once it filled him with something that he didn't quite understand to be guilt: torn between wanting to tell the truth but not wanting to let Cypress down in the process. They were not his kill. In fact, what he had intended to kill had slipped expertly from his amateur paws and that was why he was here in the first place, scarfing down the breakfast that he'd only wanted to be able to contribute to. Lying was bad. Rian knew this. But what would it really hurt? Cypress had sort of made the assumption to begin with and...how could he break the truth when his young cousin was giving him that look? Rian just wanted to be a hero, even if the accomplishment wasn't his to claim. Still, the guilt and consideration of right and wrong wasn't enough to stop the eldest O'Malley son from saying: “Yeah, I did it.” With a slight puff of his chest, though his heart beat sped up as the lie spilled from his lips. He bit down on his bottom lip softly, half expecting someone to come flying out of the den or bushes and scold him for lying to Cypress.
He felt a slight pang of guilt but he waved it away. “You want somma mine?” Rian offered the younger boy, gesturing invitingly, hoping that by offering to share his breakfast it would offset the bad deed of the little white lie he'd spoken.
As ruthless as it all may seem the wild cares not for the weaker beings.
August 29, 2016, 11:24 PM
I adore him! Cypress is very, “Notice me, sempai!” right now.
Astonishment turned swiftly into hero worship as Cypress watched the fearsome hunter tear into his kill and lick his lips in a devastatingly roguish fashion. The two Frostfur boys had tried their hands at hunting, both solo and as a duo, and had thus far been wholly unsuccessful. Cypress’ eyes were round and luminous, just the faintest tendrils of yellow beginning to make their way through the sea of milky blue, and his blunt muzzle formed a soft “o” of wonder. Part of him was a bit jealous; just one of the rabbits was nearly as big as the stocky puppy, but he had taken down three. “Whoa,” breathed the starry-eyed raven prince with feeling. The hunting, killing instinct burned in his young blood, but he was still too young and clumsy to really participate in such activities. So great was Cypress’ adoration, it seemed to cast Rian in a heroic spotlight that turned every small thing the O’Malley boy did into an act of inimitable valor.
Licking his lips at the prospect of sharing the hero’s kill, Cypress nodded vigorously — and then he remembered to employ his Good Manners. “Yes, please’n thank you,” he said before inching closer still, his whiplike tail wagging so hard the inertia encompassed his hindquarters and threatened to divert him from his course. Excitedly, “Whassit like?” asked the younger boy with unabashed admiration. “Didja hafta chase it for — for ever?” Time was a fleeting, confusing phenomenon that Cypress didn’t fully grasp, but he knew forever to be a terribly long time. Tomorrow was a hazier concept still. “Are you a — a cousin?” he asked, trying to impress the earthen-toned hero with his burgeoning vocabulary. Truth be told, Cypress didn’t understand that idea either. As far as he could figure, cousin meant puppy who is not your brother. In that case, maybe Lucy was a cousin, too.
Licking his lips at the prospect of sharing the hero’s kill, Cypress nodded vigorously — and then he remembered to employ his Good Manners. “Yes, please’n thank you,” he said before inching closer still, his whiplike tail wagging so hard the inertia encompassed his hindquarters and threatened to divert him from his course. Excitedly, “Whassit like?” asked the younger boy with unabashed admiration. “Didja hafta chase it for — for ever?” Time was a fleeting, confusing phenomenon that Cypress didn’t fully grasp, but he knew forever to be a terribly long time. Tomorrow was a hazier concept still. “Are you a — a cousin?” he asked, trying to impress the earthen-toned hero with his burgeoning vocabulary. Truth be told, Cypress didn’t understand that idea either. As far as he could figure, cousin meant puppy who is not your brother. In that case, maybe Lucy was a cousin, too.
<3!
To Rian's relief no adult came to reprimand him for telling a lie and with the guilt pushed out of his mind Rian intended to continue on with it: to take the lie and spin a fantastic tale. As small children were bound to it did not take very long for Rian himself to get swept up in his imagination — a place where he did hunt rabbits (as well as dragons, of course!) as he'd taken the credit for in Cypress' presence. The younger boy inched forward, towards him imploring a staggering amount of manners that the Syrian King brushed off with an nonchalant wave of his tail. They were friends here and though the notion of being hero was enough to intoxicate the young O'Malley he did not strive to make Cypress feel like they were not on equal footing; because Rian was a “good” hero, not the “bad” hero type that lorded themselves over everything and everyone. That was just plain mean and beyond that sounded awfully exhausting.
“For ever, yeah,” Rian agreed with a cheesy and broad grin, shrugging his shoulders as if it were no big deal, though he was not-so-secretly soaking up the younger boy's astonishment like a sponge to water. “They're are supa fast, but you hasta be patient.” Though Rian had little grasp on the word, obviously. Cousin, however, he had something of a grasp on. “Yep!” Rian declared, his tail wagging behind him. “My Mama an your Da are brother and sister and that makes us cousins.” He reiterated for the younger boy, leaning down to tear another small chunk from the rabbit before he invited Cypress to come closer and help himself with a sweep of his muzzle from the boy to the rabbit corpse.
“For ever, yeah,” Rian agreed with a cheesy and broad grin, shrugging his shoulders as if it were no big deal, though he was not-so-secretly soaking up the younger boy's astonishment like a sponge to water. “They're are supa fast, but you hasta be patient.” Though Rian had little grasp on the word, obviously. Cousin, however, he had something of a grasp on. “Yep!” Rian declared, his tail wagging behind him. “My Mama an your Da are brother and sister and that makes us cousins.” He reiterated for the younger boy, leaning down to tear another small chunk from the rabbit before he invited Cypress to come closer and help himself with a sweep of his muzzle from the boy to the rabbit corpse.
As ruthless as it all may seem the wild cares not for the weaker beings.
September 11, 2016, 02:38 PM
Pardoned from the occasionally tiresome responsibilities that came with being the son of a regal forest king and a beautiful Southern belle, Cypress heaved a sigh that caused his shoulders to slump with exaggerated relief. He crept up to his share of the proffered meal and watched Rian out of the corner of his eye, trying to eat with as much reckless charm as the older puppy had. His muddied eyes went wide as his cousin grinned a bold affirmative with a nonchalant shrug that took his breath away. “G-Golly,” the raven fledgling squeaked out, hanging on to every word, his mouth full of succulent meat seasoned liberally with dashes of hunger and hero worship. He had a burgeoning fascination with the macabre and, eyes wide, prompted Rian to embellish his story further. “Was there blood evvywhere?” he questioned excitedly, correcting his slip of pronunciation with furrowed brow: “ev-errry-where.”
More seriously, “Didja see any monsters?” Cypress questioned, that strange, dizzying feeling sweeping through him once more. Later in his life, when he had the vocabulary to articulate it, he’d know it was anger. “Noch’n me hafta kill a monster that hurted our princess,” he explained blithely, “‘cept we don’t know what it looks like.” Cypress was pretty sure he’d know a monster if he saw one, though — and Rian, being the hero he was, would surely be able to help them defeat it. “We’re gonna form — affirm — frame — ” Tongue tied, he tried to remember what word was correct in this particular circumstance, but swiftly he decided to change his tack. “It’s a warband,” he said instead, “Noch’n me’re gonna make one to kill the monster.” He filled his mouth with another satisfying chunk of meat, his little jaws working furiously to dispatch it, but it took him some time, stilling his chatter and leaving Rian an opening to respond.
More seriously, “Didja see any monsters?” Cypress questioned, that strange, dizzying feeling sweeping through him once more. Later in his life, when he had the vocabulary to articulate it, he’d know it was anger. “Noch’n me hafta kill a monster that hurted our princess,” he explained blithely, “‘cept we don’t know what it looks like.” Cypress was pretty sure he’d know a monster if he saw one, though — and Rian, being the hero he was, would surely be able to help them defeat it. “We’re gonna form — affirm — frame — ” Tongue tied, he tried to remember what word was correct in this particular circumstance, but swiftly he decided to change his tack. “It’s a warband,” he said instead, “Noch’n me’re gonna make one to kill the monster.” He filled his mouth with another satisfying chunk of meat, his little jaws working furiously to dispatch it, but it took him some time, stilling his chatter and leaving Rian an opening to respond.
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