[PRP] Smells like trouble? (Chaya, Hollandaise)

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It had been a little while ago, and the plant-ghoul didn't sound quite so unhappy on Critter any more, but Chaya couldn't shake the lingering worry. There was something wrong, still, the hound couldn't help thinking. It took some asking around, but eventually someone had seen someone who looked sort of like a walking tree, and after that it wasn't hard to follow the trail back from there.

Chaya preferred to be in natural form whenever possible recently, and so the creature who approached Hollandaise appeared to be a large, fluffy canine, wolf-sized, with a tail that trailed off into wispy translucency. The hound sat down nearby, angled both ears toward the Warder, and waited politely to be noticed.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

It was natural, she told herself, that when some sort of hound approached her first instinct was to freeze, to watch, to wait. Her breath caught in her chest for a moment. But this was no dark specter, but someone light, fluffy, though they felt vaguely familiar. There was no intrinsic danger in such students, Hollandaise told herself. She wrapped her arms around her torso, fixing the hound with golden eyes.

"Hello," she said, her voice cautious although a placid smile curved across her face. She moved slightly closer to the hound. They seemed to be waiting on something - her? There was no one else really nearby, this was an oft unused corner of the campus, deceptively close to the library. Hollandaise could hear the noises of nearby students, although she could not see them. "Can I help you with something?" She paused, and tilted her head slightly. Wait, she never forgot a face, not even one only presented in small icons on an eyePhone.

"C-chaya?"

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The hound nodded, tail thumping once. "I'm Chaya. You are Hollandaise?" In this form, Chaya's speaking voice was slightly slurred, with a softness around the vowels that came of having a mouth shaped more like a dog's than a humans. "I came to look for you and say hello and smell if you were feeling happy."

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

That Chaya could smell emotions surprised Hollandaise, but only for a bit. If Van had been able to smell fear and reluctance, then any other emotion was possible. She thought it might be useful to sniff out happiness. As if was, she probably smelled like disappointment and lonely with lingering whiffs of embarrassment. The warder shifted uncomfortably. She had felt spurts of happiness,. although they had felt dulled, washed out by the realization that she may never be friends or anything else with Deszeld again. But she had managed to befriend Aisha, Van no longer followed her... She walked on eggshells of ruining more things daily. The most comfortable she'd been recently had been when she had taken Amarus' drug and talked with Zar. A frown was creasing her face and she smoothed it out.

"Yes! It is nice to finally see you around, Chaya. Though, I am afraid I may smell unpleasant to you." The smile she wore was a little forced. She reached out a hand to scratch Chaya's head and thought better of it. Touching creeple had gotten her into trouble before. "Have you found a pack to run with? I have found myself in the woods a lot, lately. It is a good place to think and not think and run."

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The outstretched hand was met with a furred nose pushing under it in an unspoken demand for scratches, once it became clear that Holly wasn't going to complete the scritching motion on her own. A soft whuffing accompanied the touch, and Chaya ventured, "You smell tired. The tired-of kind of tired."

The hound flopped down beside Holly, muzzle resting on her leg with an unthinking disregard for personal space. "I haven't got a pack. My kind isn't common now, and our Huntsmen even less." A long and windy sigh. "But I run with my friends. That's also good. A different kind of good but still good."

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Hollandaise hummed happily as she began to scratch Chaya, paying special attention to the areas just around the ears. She was getting better with being touched, as long as creeple didn't touch her leaves or branches, although she still shied away out of precaution. There was always a lingering fear that someone would (even by accident) rip off her leaves or break her branches. Thinking on it, Hollandaise supposed it was more of an aversion to the sudden shock of pain rather than the pain itself. Although... her leaves and branches needed to be trimmed soon - she grimaced briefly at the thought. It hurt, it would always hurt, but it was a necessary evil. But for now, she put those thoughts aside. Chaya was warm and cuddly, and it was comforting, in a way.

"Could you make your own pack - a sort of modge podge of different creeple?" Hollandaise felt a pang of sympathy. She had a 'pack', technically. Even if they wanted nothing to do with her now, she still had that eventual promise of acceptance. It was a promise she had close to her chest and dispaired of ever fulfilling, but it was there, and that was enough. "What does a huntsman do?" Her hands continued to move over the hound's head and Hollandaise's voice hummed contentedly between words.

"I think I am always tired, lately. But it is my own fault." It was always her own fault. But slowly, she was finding moments where she felt a little less alone - like now. Chaya's fur was soft and silky underneath her thin fingers.

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Chaya sighed happily, relaxing bonelessly against Holly's side and flattening one ear to allow her better scritching access. Loneliness was more of a problem than the ghost liked to admit. Growing up in a household with four parents and three siblings had meant being constantly crowded, always with someone, and coming to school and living alone had been more different than expected. "There's a difference between pack and pack," he explained after a moment in which he simply leaned his ear into the touch. "It's, it's. Hollandaise, you are a Warder? What does it mean, to be a Warder, what is it?"

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

She hummed out a breathy song as she touched Chaya. So soft! Hollandaise loved soft things, soft ears, the silky softness of wings, skin. The warder sighed. When she spoke, her voice was slow and measured, with an almost musical cadence like a playful breeze. It was clear she was trying to slow down, be as warders were. "We are protectors of forests, I suppose: we scare away humans and we rarely leave our forest. There's a circle of Elders who make out decisions, and then the rest of us. We are made of parts of trees, stripped willing from living oaks, redwoods, any tree. Warders are slow thinkers, slow speakers, slow-as-growing moments until they need to strike. They are fast only when frightening. so, as you can see, I'm not... exactly ideal. They decided I needed to come here to acquire a slowness that I do not have." Hollandaise leaned down and pressed her cheek to Chaya's head, enjoying the feel of fur.

"What is the difference between packs? Where did yours go - oh, though you do not have to tell me if you do not wish." She shifted slightly, leaves rustling.

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Chaya's ears angled attentively, listening as Holly spoke, and when Holly bent down to lean against the hound's fur, he sniffed again, quietly, scenting longing and maybe indecision. "You have a purpose, because you are made for a purpose. And maybe you won't meet that purpose but it's there, it's in your core." One forepaw tucked under his chest, and he touched the other to the side of her knee, leathery pads warm and as solid as a ghost could manage. "I'm a spectral hound, made for the Wild Hunt. We track our game, no matter where it goes. Once the Hunt has started and the Huntsman has set us on the trail, it doesn't end till we have driven our prey to the ground and killed it."

A long slow sigh lifted his furred side. "That's the way it goes. That is the rule. But it needs a pack of my own kind, and a huntsman to set us on the scent and sound the horn to begin the Hunt. My uncle found a pack. My hound-mama never did, and she says she doesn't think she will, and she says that's okay but sometimes I think she still wishes she could run with them. We don't have a name, Mama and me, we're both Packless. Maybe all my life."

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

It was all very well to have a purpose, but if she could not fulfill it, then it was pointless. She would be pointless. Although Hollandaise knew Chaya meant well, she found no comfort in the hound's words and instead she sighed gently. It wasn't that she didn't believe Chaya, she did, just that... she could not live alone. Hollandaise did not think she would ever find a place for herself if she did not carve herself to fit into the one already waiting for her.

She placed both of her hands on either side of Chaya's head and turned him so that she could touch her nose lightly to his. Her nose crinkled and golden eyes stared into his glowing red ones. "You will find a pack, I am sure. And, if you want or need it, I will help you. No one deserves to be alone if they do not wish it." Her fingers resumed scratching, running in small circles throughout his creamy fur. "Have you looked here yet? Or where? If you tell me how, I will try to find you a huntsman to run you through the woods and capture prey." For a moment, she thought that huntsmen led an envious life.

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Holly touched noses with Chaya, and Chaya reflexively licked her chin without thinking about it. "I hope," he answered, a little cheered by her optimism. "I look for hounds and huntsmen when creeple enroll or visit, and I look on the interwebs, but I have not found anyone nearby. Yet." His tail thumped once on the ground. "If you see a reaper with a hunting horn, you could tell me? Please? Or a ghost who looks like me?"

Maybe with more eyes than just his own looking, they would be more likely to find someone. It was worth a try. He could hope a little more. Surely that wouldn't hurt anything. "If, if I'm going to ask you to look for creeple like me, I should probably show you my pinned form," he added, a little reluctantly.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"That tickled!" Hollandaise let out a tiny laugh at Chaya's tongue. "I promise to keep an eye out for you, Chaya. I have met a few hounds, but none ghostly like you." The Warder liked Chaya a great deal, and she wondered how her forest would change if they had had such a pack roaming through it. Probably, it would be more interesting.

"Hmm," she said, hand still moving lazily over Chaya's head. "It would likely help, but if you're really uncomfortable in your pinned form, then you do not have to show me. I do not go about in my natural form, ever, so I understand."

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Chaya remained motionless under the petting for a few moments, deciding, then breathed a deep and windy sigh and sat up, ears pinning back uncertainly. "I can't avoid it forever," he muttered. His shape went translucent, smeared like a wash of paint, blurred and flowed, and resolidified into a person only an inch or two taller than Holly, almost delicate, figure mostly hidden under an oversized, loose sweater and loose pants. A white fur cloak lay over their shoulders, half-hiding the clawed necklace that had been almost lost in their fur in canid form. Though their tail and wolfish ears were white, their short hair was black. The nervous red eyes remained the same.

They fidgeted, settled into a slightly awkward kneel beside Holly, tail tucked close against their legs. "You don't like your natural form?" they asked, casual tone rather forced.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Hmmm, not dislike my form, I suppose."His fingers drummed against her knee. "I am not... comfortable assuming the form of something I am not, not yet. Does that make sense?" She laughed a little and watched intently as Chaya changed. Black, hair, white fur, red eyes. "Do you all look similar? Or different hair and fur?" Hollandaise hummed thoughtfully.

Something caught her eye, something in the way the sweater pulled against Chaya as he moved. "Oh, she said, surprised. "I am sorry; I thought you were a boil."

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"Yeah. It .... it does." Chaya wrapped their arms around themself, looking at their knees. "We're not all the same. But we're always hounds, always white fur, red eyes."

They winced. "I am," they said. "Maybe. Sort of. I think. You said, the form of, of something you're not." She looked up, sideways, from under her hair, their ears flatting back even further. "I don't feel right," they said, very softly, certain and uncertain at once.

The Semblance of Unity