Sunbeam Lair A secret lost pet city on the moon
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Backdated somewhat, for @Mou

Not long after breaking the news that they were leaving Diaspora, Aurëwen had left to tend to her tasks before they were to move on. Dragomir remained sullen; he rebuked Isilmë's efforts to make him play and padded off to be alone in the lair, eyes still stinging with leftover tears. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye to Kazimir or Blodreina or Praimfaya or any of the other cubs. Would Mahler and Stigmata understand? With no context for their leave-taking, Dragomir worried what his former leaders would think of them; but that concern was exhausting for a young boy and he soon put it from his mind.

Sunbeam Lair was truly gorgeous, a small paradise hidden in the crags. Even at his most despondent, Dragomir was never blind to the world around him. He had a hunter's senses acutely tuned to the murmurs of noise and the drifting of scents through the cavern, but on top of that, his mother was a botanist. His interest in the craft was surface deep, but nevertheless he had learned the names and aromas of several of Aurë's favourite plants through demonstration, and he knew a botanist's haven when he saw one.

Leaving his sorrows behind, Dragomir delved into a thick tangle of ferns and tall grasses, sniffing about for something interesting.
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Ooc — Talamasca
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Hope this is OK! If you want anything edited let me know.


The effort to scale the mountain range had taken a lot out of him, and while it was easier to descend some of the paths, Mou was exhausted as he concluded his journey and with his slim legs aching for rest, he was desperate to find somewhere to hide away. By sheer luck he stopped to rest and discovered an easy path leading towards a henge of sorts — and in haste he sought out that overhang of stone. As soon as his paws touched upon the carpet of ferns growing within, Mou felt relief. He collapsed moments later in a heap and was asleep within moments, sprawled out among the green.

Cue the curious child Dragomir — as he explored, he came closer and closer to the slumbering ghost. The grass obscured some of the pale man's wiry body but his shoulders were like a tiny hill covered in snow; his ears were somewhat visible as well. He did not wake until the child's investigation jostled at some hidden part of him - a sprawling hind leg, or his tail perhaps.

With a snort the man woke — head lifting free, carrying with it some dried gold-lined bits of fern that scattered and fell from his sharp snout. The ghost took a few breaths and blinked his eye, but didn't look around, so he remained sleepily oblivious to the boy.
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There wasn't a lot to be found for Dragomir here; without the appeal of the abundant plants, the Lair was just another pretty place. He could smell the tracks and feces of various small mammals alongside some other, more leather-and-stone smells, but there was nothing to heat the blood of a hunter presently here. Nothing, that is, until he trampled through a fern and felt it shudder.

He froze on the spot with both a hind paw and a forepaw dangling in the air. Dragomir watched with sheepish, guilty eyes as a black-masked face rose out of the foliage, attached to a pair of bony shoulders. How the heck had he not seen those? Too focused on his nose, he guessed. It would be a little while yet before he could utilize all his senses simultaneously. Right now, he paid too much attention to one or the other and forgot about the remaining ones. When he was on a scent trail, he forgot to use his ears. Sometimes he forgot to use his eyes. When he was listening intently, sometimes Dragomir forgot to scent or taste the wind. That was how he practically walked on Mou without noticing he was there.

The first thing Dragomir noticed was not, as one might assume, Mou's missing eye. His mother's one eye was so damaged it might as well have been taken from its socket, so to him, this wasn't that unusual. He also didn't notice the hideous knot of scar tissue across his throat, either, having a father with a very similar injury. Instead he noticed the thin strap of black that looped around his throat. It smelled burnt and unnatural to his nose, unlike anything he had ever encountered. Forgetting his manners, Dragomir pulled back in response, wrinkling his muzzle a little as he asked, you okay? Whassat?
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As he lifted himself free of the grass and raised himself in to a sitting pose, bits of greenery and yellowed, sun-baked strands of that once was leaf-litter cascaded off of him; he was like an ent, or a long-sleeping rip van winkle; a cryptid summoned by the presence of a curious child. Mou stayed where he was planted but he did stretch out his forelegs, arch his back - which crackled a satisfying series of pops - before he shook off the rest of his sleep and finally took notice of Dragomir. A vivid pink tongue slathered across his nose and lips, then slurped back inside of his head as that one good eye focused on the boy — ears twitching at the child's question.

It didn't appear to bother him (or in any way surprise him) that this boy was here. The question brought to mind the strange adornment upon Mou's neck and with a small shuffle, he freed one of his stilted hind limbs and made to kick at the collar, scratching at the fur and skin beneath it as any trained dog might; the itch was only vaguely satisfied. As he finished, he rose to his paws and took one seemingly-lazy stride from where he'd been hidden, standing a few heads taller than the boy with his sharp, thin figure. He drifted away from the boy a few steps and then settled back to a passive sprawl beneath a shaft of sunlight where it was much warmer.

Mou then opened his mouth, miming, < I don't know, > as best he could. He shrugged, then shook the fur of his shoulders and neck - the collar shifting only slightly, and the weighted box attached to it barely budged from along the back of his neck. He ducked his head to be at the child's level and chuffed to him - or tried to anyway - but the only sound that came from his mouth was the clipping of teeth together and the breath that was expelled.
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For a beat, it seemed like Mou was going to ignore Dragomir. The boy stepped back and watched with a sucked in breath as the man rose to his full height, revealing a conspicuous sweep of faint red on his side, before stepping away and flopping back down. Were he a little older, Dragomir may have interpreted this as a sign that he was unwelcome. Instead he stepped gingerly after Mou, taking care to stay on the side with a functioning eye. He did the same with Aurë; by now it was second nature to stay on her good side, so he did the same with this stranger.

There was an inherent shyness about him as he stepped slowly into the warmth of the sun. He frowned when the wolf mouthed something to him, something he didn't quite catch. Lip reading wasn't his forte, it turned out. He flinched nervously at the sound Mou made, then steeled himself. Cocking his head with an unsteady wave of his tail, Dragomir asked, wha's wrong? Can't ya talk? He wanted to know more about the band that smelled somehow foul and tainted, but he would need to devise a way to communicate that worked a little better than his guesswork.