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May. 11th, 2010 10:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shelbyrouIt is currently 19:33 Pacific Time on Tue May 11 2010.
Currently the moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (12% full).
Bawn: Eastern Forest
A white-furred wolf trots through the evening forest, nosing at interesting trees and clumps of moss. A jay scolds her and she stops to consider it, snaps her jaws and wanders on. The breeze is subtle this evening, drifting in from the west and bringing scents of damp and woodsmoke.
Coming from the east from the mountains is a disgraceful sort of wolf. His is fur patchy and thin as it clings to every bone. Elk-Tail doesn't seem confident though with his back arched defensively even as his tail bends between his legs as he moves cautiously, pausing at the sound of the jay.
Elk-Tail is a painfully thin wolf; the entirety of his spine, ribs and hind visible as the muscle has wasted somewhat. His coat is thin and poor, gone entirely on his belly from mange and the unhealthy flea infestation he has. The sores on his legs have mostly healed along with a long gnarly scar all around his throat. The young wolf also appears to be missing half of his tail, but it is an old healed wound. His coat appears to be white base with black and dark brown on top in usual gray wolf markings. On his shoulders the line has broken making it appear like sergeant stripes. Despite his condition, his brown eyes remain bright and warm.
Stops-Too-Late circles back to see if, perhaps, the jay's been stupid enough to land on the ground when she spots the intruder. Her ears go up, tail bristling and held straight behind her as she 'points' at the submissive. Who are you? she fairly demands, for all the world one of Gaia's poster children. Eons of breeding fairly ooze from her every pore.
Elk-Tail's back stays arched, but the rest of his body lowers. The stump of his tail presses between his legs and ears twisted back he indicates that he is Elk-Tail, a cub Spirit Howler of the Uktena tribe. Who are you?
Doesn't Know When to Stop, no-moon cub of Silver Fangs. Another moment and her tail starts to wave, gently. You are the cub Stolen-by-Fae told me about. You are wolf-born!
Elk-Tail doesn't dispute this claim and remains defensively postured as he comes over to sniff the Fang for particulars. He seems confused so he asks isn't she and Stolen-by-Fae also wolf-born? He has only seen them in wolf bodies.
Stops-Too-Late is quite polite about her investigating, with no need for a proctology exam. That completed, she sneezes and sits. No. Born with two legs, not four. An ear swivels back at the jay, who has hopped closer to investigate the pair of cubs. Want to see?
The wolf smells of death and waning neglect along with mountainy sort of smells. This one is not sure he wants to see a peoples. He does not miss the metal cave or the little brown pebbles. Why would Stops want to be born with only two legs? The question is naively asked.
Both of her ears flatten in confusion. Little brown pebbles? Did not want or not-want. Gaia decided for me. The Fang pauses to consider the other wolf. You know you are Garou. You can have two-legs yourself.
Elk-Tail likes his four legs which he demonstrates by bending low to lick at his front paws. Shakily he finally sits on a his bony hips. Grandmother is wise. I have been to the crinos form, but not to a people form.
Stops-Too-Late continues to sit primly, her tail wrapped around her haunches. In people form you can open the... the box of snow, where food is. Can get down things from up high. Like that bird. An ear twitches at the jay again; bored (or warned) it swoops low and flies away, calling mockingly after them. People form can open boxes.
Elk-Tail glances at the bird, his ear briefly points at it as it flies away. This one doesn't see how getting the jay would be any easier with two legs. What is a box? Why would he want anything inside it? The wolf is all very curious about this.
Stops-Too-Late yawns, her tongue curling and ears flattening, only to pop forward again when she's finished. Food is kept in boxes, she explains. Box of snow keeps food cold, to eat it later. She takes in the other wolf's scrawniness, head tilted. Do you want food now? I know where there is some.
The thin wolf respectfully declines the offer, his tribe feeds him well enough. He is much stronger now. Looking at the other wolf indirectly Elk-Tail wonders where such a box could be and if she could show him. He thinks this is something his elder would be pleased at him for learning.
Stops-Too-Late does not see why not. The food is kept there for all the cubs to share. She stands, tail waving again. It is far. Does your elder tell you where you can and cannot go?
Elk-Tail is to meet new and weird peoples. Stops-Too-Late is new and weird. Beyond that he does not know. Standing after the Fang his posture remains much the same, but his tail is relaxed somewhat. Lead the way.
Stops-Too-Late eyes him sideways. New. Not weird, she chides, teasing, and aims a shoulder for his. Come! With that she heads off at a trot, trusting that the lupus will follow her and acting generally like she owns the place. It is, as she promised, quite a few miles to the Sept Compound and all the new and interesting scents there. Fire, many other Garou, and... food? Bread? Food!
Elk-Tail takes the bump mildly and trails along behind the Fang, treading lightly with his back arched. He travels fairly well despite his condition, cataloging the smells for later investigation. Once they're at the compound his fur bristles and his ears go flat at the number of marking smells. The wolf-born garou keeps to the edges and watches the new, but not weird, Stops.
The Fang cub completely and utterly ignores all the other person-scents to trot straight across the center of the clearing to where the food box is cached. Only then does she turn back to Elk-Tail, ears up again. Here. Here is food. But you need to be people to get at it. See? Come here.
Elk-Tail appears very reluctant as he slinks over to the Fang. His eyes keeps flicking towards the surrounding area as if he expects everyone to jump out and say BOO! once there he says again he has never been to people form.
No one leaps at him, not even an obstreperous squirrel. Stops-Too-Late waits patiently, clearly amused at his skittishness. Try, she suggests. I will change with you? Make bigger wolf first, yes? Then crinos, then the others.
Elk-Tail gets as far as crinos, tottering uncertainly as his grotesquely muscled body shivers. You go on, this one will follow after.
Stops-Too-Late follows more slowly, her shifting smooth. People, she encourages with a wag of her tail, and slips easily into her breed form, hands on her hips as she looks up at the crinos.
Elk-Tail swallows, the lump of his throat moving clearly against the gnarled scar. He seems almost afraid as he shifts down to homid. Equally tragic in human he shakes again, his arms going wide for balance. Pasty dull bronze skin stretches over every bone which is clear for he has no clothes on. His patchy thin black hair doesn't even cover his shoulders. Sarge's eyes look uncertainly at Shelby, seeming to ask if this is right.
Sarge almost looks like a walking skeleton of 5'5 with his skin just hanging off wasted muscle. This young man's black hair is long, to his shoulders, and ratty with clear evidence of fleas. His face has the look that he might've been a handsome sort of man with good First Nation features, but just under his chin the skin is gnarled with a sickeningly wicked scar. His skin should be a light bronze color, but instead it appears yellowish and pasty. Even his nails are yellow and long, flaky and cracked. Only Sarge's warm brown eyes really look alive. He is not currently wearing any clothes.
Shelby automatically reaches out to try and grab one of those arms, to keep him upright or ease him down to the ground. "Well look at you!" she says cheerfully, her accent probably unlike any Sarge has heard before, the vowels lengthening and folding strangely. A glance down, and her eyes come hastily back up. "Well not really look at you. You ready for that food, now?"
The young man doesn't resist the grab and almost seems to welcome the sturdiness it gives him. Sarge is equally curious about the food and why Shelby reacted as she did, glancing down at himself as if to emphasis it before taking a step towards the box.
Shelby helps him toward the box, only releasing him once it seems he's steady on his feet. "See?" she continues, blithely unaware of his incomprehension, "You need thumbs to deal with this." She crouches and fiddles with the raccoon-proof latch, opening it to reveal a minor wealth of food. Bread, cheese, deli meats - and cookies! It's two of the latter Shelby snags, taking one for herself and offering the other to Sarge.
Sarge glances at his hands before reaching the left one out to tentatively take the cookie. He doesn't seem so sure about this being food the way he looks and sniffs at it. And when he does he seems disgruntled at the ineffectiveness of this human nose. He looks back at her to take the first bite.
Shelby drops the lid with another smile for the Uktena. "It's a cookie," she says brightly, and takes a bite. Mmm, cookie. Sugar, butter, and more sugar.
Sarge follows her example then, nibbling on a corner. He smiles then, standing somewhat firm. He likes this. Stuffing the rest in his mouth and licking the cookie crumbs away he motions maybe for more?
Mmm, tasty tasty shortbread cookies. Smiling around her far more dainty mouthful Shelby shakes her head and rises to her feet, pointing for Sarge to lift the box's lid by himself.
Sarge doesn't seem put off by this as he takes a falling step or so to the box. Luckily he puts his hands out so he holds onto the lid before trying to open it. The ease at which he does it seems to surprise him and he pillages one of the few remaining cookies. He does turn slightly to offer one to Shelby. It's mostly in one piece.
"Well, thank you!" She bobs him a curtsey that manages to not look silly despite the track suit and lack of skirt, takes the cookie and reaches past him to close the lid again. "Food," she tells him firmly, points at the box again. But then she has to be mean: she flips the latches to keep it closed.
Sarge keeps smiling as she takes it, but then is instantly confused and irritated as she closes the lid. Latched even. He flicks the latch off again and reopens the lid. He sets the lid back with clear meaning before looking pointedly at Shelby.
Shelby closes the lid. Again. And sits on the box this time, arms folded. "You shift back to wolf, and we'll talk about it. Go on, shift to wolf." Then louder (because volume increases comprehension), "Shift to wolf."
Sarge again looks puzzled and irritated as the Fang now sits on the food box. The nonsense she's speaking at the loudness doesn't help. His nerves already frayed from their surroundings he steps back as the muscles begin to slither and bulk again. He doesn't return to wolf just yet however, taking hispo form instead and snapping at at an offending foot to tug her off the box quick as a wink.
"Oh don't you...!" she starts, arms akimbo as she claims her territory. The protest rises to a yelp when the suddenly-Hispo grabs her foot and yanks; her back hits the box followed in short order by the back of her skull. Elk-Tail's triumph may be short-lived, though - as fast as he hit hispo she's in Crinos, and she's quick to roll and get her feet under her in a three-point, teeth-bared stance.
Elk-Tail's back remains stubborn arched with his tail straight out and his hackles raised. It is a strange picture for such skinny wolf to stare at Stops-Too-Late with fierce eyes even as he crouches lower. He can't quite close his lips over the hispo fangs, but he does not actively bare them. He doesn't seem to want to attack the Fang, but she is behaving weirdly without reason taking the food and acting as if this is a good thing.
Stops-Too-Late doesn't move from her spot in front of the food box, her own hackles lifted to make the crinos look even larger. A growl rolls out of her as she stares at the Uktena, ululating up and down before settling into a low, basement-worthy rumble. Open and close box when I say. I say.
This Fang is not Little Silvertip and has no place to tell this one what to do! Elk-Tail rumbles in return, stubbornness keeping his back up.
I am older. I am wiser. I am Silver Fang. Any one of the three should be enough to see Elk-Tail's belly, as far as Stops-Too-Late is concerned; all three of them together? Lie down and I will tell you what I am doing.
Elk-Tail doesn't appear to agree or even know what this Silver Fang business is about. Looking away he licks at Stops even as he turns to the side. Further submission is given with a he tucks his stub of a tail. He doesn't care about the box anymore. Or the peoples. He will go back to the mountains.
Stops-Too-Late's rumbling, though it continues a moment longer, switches off like someone's flicked a switch. Box is for all Garou. Not raccoon, not jay. Open box when you want to get food, close box when you are done. Otherwise food will be gone and elders will bite your nose. Cubs too, she adds after a second. Come practice opening box again?
It isn't a switch for Elk-Tail and the lupus almost rants at the Fang. Box is for all!? Stops-Too-Late shoes this one how to open and offers, but then closes! I open it and give you some and then you close again! I am hungry! If it is there for me to eat, why do you take it away!? Take box, give box! Elk-Tail does not care about box! Break box, piss on box!
You said you were not hungry, Stops-Too-Late reminds him with a lift of her lips. You tell me not-true. Food in box is for eating. She watches the angry cub for a few seconds more before moving to the side, nearly falling as the wound on her foot makes its presence known. Eat. Shift to two-legs, open box, then eat. I will watch and make sure you are safe.
Elk-Tail refuses this honor by returning to breed form and moving out of the compound. He will go to his tribe. They will feed him without having to beg and do a trick for the people's amusement. He can be not hungry and then hungry if he wants to!
Thick as tree! she calls after him, chuffs out her irritation and bends to investigate her bitten foot. Before he's gone she adds a howl, thin and quavery above the trees. Gaia watch.
Currently the moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (12% full).
Bawn: Eastern Forest
A white-furred wolf trots through the evening forest, nosing at interesting trees and clumps of moss. A jay scolds her and she stops to consider it, snaps her jaws and wanders on. The breeze is subtle this evening, drifting in from the west and bringing scents of damp and woodsmoke.
Coming from the east from the mountains is a disgraceful sort of wolf. His is fur patchy and thin as it clings to every bone. Elk-Tail doesn't seem confident though with his back arched defensively even as his tail bends between his legs as he moves cautiously, pausing at the sound of the jay.
Elk-Tail is a painfully thin wolf; the entirety of his spine, ribs and hind visible as the muscle has wasted somewhat. His coat is thin and poor, gone entirely on his belly from mange and the unhealthy flea infestation he has. The sores on his legs have mostly healed along with a long gnarly scar all around his throat. The young wolf also appears to be missing half of his tail, but it is an old healed wound. His coat appears to be white base with black and dark brown on top in usual gray wolf markings. On his shoulders the line has broken making it appear like sergeant stripes. Despite his condition, his brown eyes remain bright and warm.
Stops-Too-Late circles back to see if, perhaps, the jay's been stupid enough to land on the ground when she spots the intruder. Her ears go up, tail bristling and held straight behind her as she 'points' at the submissive. Who are you? she fairly demands, for all the world one of Gaia's poster children. Eons of breeding fairly ooze from her every pore.
Elk-Tail's back stays arched, but the rest of his body lowers. The stump of his tail presses between his legs and ears twisted back he indicates that he is Elk-Tail, a cub Spirit Howler of the Uktena tribe. Who are you?
Doesn't Know When to Stop, no-moon cub of Silver Fangs. Another moment and her tail starts to wave, gently. You are the cub Stolen-by-Fae told me about. You are wolf-born!
Elk-Tail doesn't dispute this claim and remains defensively postured as he comes over to sniff the Fang for particulars. He seems confused so he asks isn't she and Stolen-by-Fae also wolf-born? He has only seen them in wolf bodies.
Stops-Too-Late is quite polite about her investigating, with no need for a proctology exam. That completed, she sneezes and sits. No. Born with two legs, not four. An ear swivels back at the jay, who has hopped closer to investigate the pair of cubs. Want to see?
The wolf smells of death and waning neglect along with mountainy sort of smells. This one is not sure he wants to see a peoples. He does not miss the metal cave or the little brown pebbles. Why would Stops want to be born with only two legs? The question is naively asked.
Both of her ears flatten in confusion. Little brown pebbles? Did not want or not-want. Gaia decided for me. The Fang pauses to consider the other wolf. You know you are Garou. You can have two-legs yourself.
Elk-Tail likes his four legs which he demonstrates by bending low to lick at his front paws. Shakily he finally sits on a his bony hips. Grandmother is wise. I have been to the crinos form, but not to a people form.
Stops-Too-Late continues to sit primly, her tail wrapped around her haunches. In people form you can open the... the box of snow, where food is. Can get down things from up high. Like that bird. An ear twitches at the jay again; bored (or warned) it swoops low and flies away, calling mockingly after them. People form can open boxes.
Elk-Tail glances at the bird, his ear briefly points at it as it flies away. This one doesn't see how getting the jay would be any easier with two legs. What is a box? Why would he want anything inside it? The wolf is all very curious about this.
Stops-Too-Late yawns, her tongue curling and ears flattening, only to pop forward again when she's finished. Food is kept in boxes, she explains. Box of snow keeps food cold, to eat it later. She takes in the other wolf's scrawniness, head tilted. Do you want food now? I know where there is some.
The thin wolf respectfully declines the offer, his tribe feeds him well enough. He is much stronger now. Looking at the other wolf indirectly Elk-Tail wonders where such a box could be and if she could show him. He thinks this is something his elder would be pleased at him for learning.
Stops-Too-Late does not see why not. The food is kept there for all the cubs to share. She stands, tail waving again. It is far. Does your elder tell you where you can and cannot go?
Elk-Tail is to meet new and weird peoples. Stops-Too-Late is new and weird. Beyond that he does not know. Standing after the Fang his posture remains much the same, but his tail is relaxed somewhat. Lead the way.
Stops-Too-Late eyes him sideways. New. Not weird, she chides, teasing, and aims a shoulder for his. Come! With that she heads off at a trot, trusting that the lupus will follow her and acting generally like she owns the place. It is, as she promised, quite a few miles to the Sept Compound and all the new and interesting scents there. Fire, many other Garou, and... food? Bread? Food!
Elk-Tail takes the bump mildly and trails along behind the Fang, treading lightly with his back arched. He travels fairly well despite his condition, cataloging the smells for later investigation. Once they're at the compound his fur bristles and his ears go flat at the number of marking smells. The wolf-born garou keeps to the edges and watches the new, but not weird, Stops.
The Fang cub completely and utterly ignores all the other person-scents to trot straight across the center of the clearing to where the food box is cached. Only then does she turn back to Elk-Tail, ears up again. Here. Here is food. But you need to be people to get at it. See? Come here.
Elk-Tail appears very reluctant as he slinks over to the Fang. His eyes keeps flicking towards the surrounding area as if he expects everyone to jump out and say BOO! once there he says again he has never been to people form.
No one leaps at him, not even an obstreperous squirrel. Stops-Too-Late waits patiently, clearly amused at his skittishness. Try, she suggests. I will change with you? Make bigger wolf first, yes? Then crinos, then the others.
Elk-Tail gets as far as crinos, tottering uncertainly as his grotesquely muscled body shivers. You go on, this one will follow after.
Stops-Too-Late follows more slowly, her shifting smooth. People, she encourages with a wag of her tail, and slips easily into her breed form, hands on her hips as she looks up at the crinos.
Elk-Tail swallows, the lump of his throat moving clearly against the gnarled scar. He seems almost afraid as he shifts down to homid. Equally tragic in human he shakes again, his arms going wide for balance. Pasty dull bronze skin stretches over every bone which is clear for he has no clothes on. His patchy thin black hair doesn't even cover his shoulders. Sarge's eyes look uncertainly at Shelby, seeming to ask if this is right.
Sarge almost looks like a walking skeleton of 5'5 with his skin just hanging off wasted muscle. This young man's black hair is long, to his shoulders, and ratty with clear evidence of fleas. His face has the look that he might've been a handsome sort of man with good First Nation features, but just under his chin the skin is gnarled with a sickeningly wicked scar. His skin should be a light bronze color, but instead it appears yellowish and pasty. Even his nails are yellow and long, flaky and cracked. Only Sarge's warm brown eyes really look alive. He is not currently wearing any clothes.
Shelby automatically reaches out to try and grab one of those arms, to keep him upright or ease him down to the ground. "Well look at you!" she says cheerfully, her accent probably unlike any Sarge has heard before, the vowels lengthening and folding strangely. A glance down, and her eyes come hastily back up. "Well not really look at you. You ready for that food, now?"
The young man doesn't resist the grab and almost seems to welcome the sturdiness it gives him. Sarge is equally curious about the food and why Shelby reacted as she did, glancing down at himself as if to emphasis it before taking a step towards the box.
Shelby helps him toward the box, only releasing him once it seems he's steady on his feet. "See?" she continues, blithely unaware of his incomprehension, "You need thumbs to deal with this." She crouches and fiddles with the raccoon-proof latch, opening it to reveal a minor wealth of food. Bread, cheese, deli meats - and cookies! It's two of the latter Shelby snags, taking one for herself and offering the other to Sarge.
Sarge glances at his hands before reaching the left one out to tentatively take the cookie. He doesn't seem so sure about this being food the way he looks and sniffs at it. And when he does he seems disgruntled at the ineffectiveness of this human nose. He looks back at her to take the first bite.
Shelby drops the lid with another smile for the Uktena. "It's a cookie," she says brightly, and takes a bite. Mmm, cookie. Sugar, butter, and more sugar.
Sarge follows her example then, nibbling on a corner. He smiles then, standing somewhat firm. He likes this. Stuffing the rest in his mouth and licking the cookie crumbs away he motions maybe for more?
Mmm, tasty tasty shortbread cookies. Smiling around her far more dainty mouthful Shelby shakes her head and rises to her feet, pointing for Sarge to lift the box's lid by himself.
Sarge doesn't seem put off by this as he takes a falling step or so to the box. Luckily he puts his hands out so he holds onto the lid before trying to open it. The ease at which he does it seems to surprise him and he pillages one of the few remaining cookies. He does turn slightly to offer one to Shelby. It's mostly in one piece.
"Well, thank you!" She bobs him a curtsey that manages to not look silly despite the track suit and lack of skirt, takes the cookie and reaches past him to close the lid again. "Food," she tells him firmly, points at the box again. But then she has to be mean: she flips the latches to keep it closed.
Sarge keeps smiling as she takes it, but then is instantly confused and irritated as she closes the lid. Latched even. He flicks the latch off again and reopens the lid. He sets the lid back with clear meaning before looking pointedly at Shelby.
Shelby closes the lid. Again. And sits on the box this time, arms folded. "You shift back to wolf, and we'll talk about it. Go on, shift to wolf." Then louder (because volume increases comprehension), "Shift to wolf."
Sarge again looks puzzled and irritated as the Fang now sits on the food box. The nonsense she's speaking at the loudness doesn't help. His nerves already frayed from their surroundings he steps back as the muscles begin to slither and bulk again. He doesn't return to wolf just yet however, taking hispo form instead and snapping at at an offending foot to tug her off the box quick as a wink.
"Oh don't you...!" she starts, arms akimbo as she claims her territory. The protest rises to a yelp when the suddenly-Hispo grabs her foot and yanks; her back hits the box followed in short order by the back of her skull. Elk-Tail's triumph may be short-lived, though - as fast as he hit hispo she's in Crinos, and she's quick to roll and get her feet under her in a three-point, teeth-bared stance.
Elk-Tail's back remains stubborn arched with his tail straight out and his hackles raised. It is a strange picture for such skinny wolf to stare at Stops-Too-Late with fierce eyes even as he crouches lower. He can't quite close his lips over the hispo fangs, but he does not actively bare them. He doesn't seem to want to attack the Fang, but she is behaving weirdly without reason taking the food and acting as if this is a good thing.
Stops-Too-Late doesn't move from her spot in front of the food box, her own hackles lifted to make the crinos look even larger. A growl rolls out of her as she stares at the Uktena, ululating up and down before settling into a low, basement-worthy rumble. Open and close box when I say. I say.
This Fang is not Little Silvertip and has no place to tell this one what to do! Elk-Tail rumbles in return, stubbornness keeping his back up.
I am older. I am wiser. I am Silver Fang. Any one of the three should be enough to see Elk-Tail's belly, as far as Stops-Too-Late is concerned; all three of them together? Lie down and I will tell you what I am doing.
Elk-Tail doesn't appear to agree or even know what this Silver Fang business is about. Looking away he licks at Stops even as he turns to the side. Further submission is given with a he tucks his stub of a tail. He doesn't care about the box anymore. Or the peoples. He will go back to the mountains.
Stops-Too-Late's rumbling, though it continues a moment longer, switches off like someone's flicked a switch. Box is for all Garou. Not raccoon, not jay. Open box when you want to get food, close box when you are done. Otherwise food will be gone and elders will bite your nose. Cubs too, she adds after a second. Come practice opening box again?
It isn't a switch for Elk-Tail and the lupus almost rants at the Fang. Box is for all!? Stops-Too-Late shoes this one how to open and offers, but then closes! I open it and give you some and then you close again! I am hungry! If it is there for me to eat, why do you take it away!? Take box, give box! Elk-Tail does not care about box! Break box, piss on box!
You said you were not hungry, Stops-Too-Late reminds him with a lift of her lips. You tell me not-true. Food in box is for eating. She watches the angry cub for a few seconds more before moving to the side, nearly falling as the wound on her foot makes its presence known. Eat. Shift to two-legs, open box, then eat. I will watch and make sure you are safe.
Elk-Tail refuses this honor by returning to breed form and moving out of the compound. He will go to his tribe. They will feed him without having to beg and do a trick for the people's amusement. He can be not hungry and then hungry if he wants to!
Thick as tree! she calls after him, chuffs out her irritation and bends to investigate her bitten foot. Before he's gone she adds a howl, thin and quavery above the trees. Gaia watch.