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 Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2008 5:55 pm
The Wildtype female turned from her work to see a big black mus scampering along the branch she was perched on. With her twin male hatchlings left in the temporary care of a Minder, she had followed the river a fair distance from home in her search for interesting ingredients. Flowers were especially interesting. “What kind, Gan?” she asked the mus.
“Stinky! The good kind of stinky! Never seen before!”
Well, if that was the case, she would definitely have to check them out. After quickly cleaning shreds of plant matter from her chest, Amberglow took wing and let Gan lead the way to Mor and her discovery.
They met Mor at the edge of an area that was apparently occupied by another Sentinel. “There!” the smelly brown female squeaked, perking her ears as she looked toward the bright yellow flowers. They were growing near a big willow whose branches reached out over the stream.
Amber didn’t want to intrude, so she alighted on the limb of a bordering tree and let out a friendly hoot. “Yoo hoo! Is anyone home?”
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Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2008 6:30 pm
Catchfly had not been expecting company. His customers generally sent word—they knew him well enough to know how he felt about surprises...and about just about everything else. So the booming call of another Sentinel caught him completely off-guard. He dropped everything he was holding, pestle clattering into the mortar he was using and sending up a little puff of the powder he was working on grinding down. Immediately shaking his feathers and blinking his nictitating membrane quickly to keep any of the powder—a potent combination of valerian and saint john’s wort—from getting in his eyes, he went into full damage-control mode. Making certain the powder hadn’t gotten anywhere other than on him and in the mortar, he gave a hurried hoot for his mus.
The little thing scurried apparently out of nowhere. “Big female, two little mussies, all smellysmelly,” it reported, clambering onto Catchfly’s back and looking over his shoulder at the mortar and pestle. “Yummy?” it inquired.
“No!”
The strength of the reply made the mus put its ears back and shiver in apology, and then Catchfly turned and walked to the entrance of his tree-hollow.
He saw the other Sentinel soon enough, and gave a slow, heavy sigh as he spread his wings and carefully, somewhat clumsily, flapped to a branch on a neighboring tree. Belatedly, he remembered to give a call in reply, and hooted quickly to let her know what her eyes were undoubtedly already telling her: I am here, here I am.
Turning to face her, he watched her with large teal eyes, expression unreadable and thoughts never voiced. His little blue-and-gold mus scurried down off his back and perched next to him on the branch, sitting up and peering at Amberglow. “Who’s you?” he called in a voice that, while articulate and carefully-pronounced, sounded tinny and high compared to the great booming of the Sentinels around him.
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Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2008 7:16 pm
As the little mus voiced its question, Amber blinked at it in surprise. Why was it speaking for its master? He couldn’t be mute. She’d have assumed he was so but for the fact that he’d hooted at her. At any rate, now she was unsure whether to direct her answer to the mus or to the other Sentinel. She settled for looking back and forth between them as she spoke. “Um… My name is Amberglow. These two are Mor and Gan.”
When he heard his name, lilac-scented Gan came forward to sniff at the strange mus. Mor, however, stayed back behind her owner. It was the most polite thing to do besides leaving the place entirely. As Amber’s main test subject, she smelled strong enough to make many creatures’ eyes water.
“Mor noticed your lovely flowers over there,” Amber continued, inclining her head toward the blossoms. “I was wondering, might I take a sample? I’ll be happy to trade for it.”
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Posted: Thu Jun 19, 2008 11:57 am
Amberglow's surprise made Catchfly blink slowly and go to preen his feathers, his own, silent version of a sigh. Following the careful pattern that had been instilled into his head as a fledgling and by a very specific old Watcher, he almost forgot that Amberglow was there. It would have been nice to completely forget. Of course, Racket (as well as his own excellent memory) would never that happen.
Racket happily sniffed away at Gan, sneezed explosively in his face, and then nibbled his ear in mute Mus apology. Then he turned back to Amberglow and sat up on his hindlegs again, fixing her with his eerily clever black stare.
"This one is Racket, Mus to Catchfly, apothecaryatyourservice," he said, and didn't notice the look Catchfly turned on him. Catch sighed aloud this time. Teaching Racket the phrase 'at your service' had been a bad idea, and it was just his luck that the mus would choose to use it at this exact moment, when things were probably peculiar and strained to begin with. And then Racket was looking at him, waiting for him to tell him what to do next. Racket was clever, quite enough so to know that if he gave permission in Catchfly's stead, he would probably be eaten. Catchfly, though a bit off, was just as territorial as other Sentinels, and while the grove was not technically his, he had never met anyone who didn't ask his permission to enter.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts and shove them out his beak before they got lost again. "...Ofcoursegoahead."
And then Racket cheerfully bounced down the branch and scampered over to where Amberglow was perched. Sneezing at her and Mor's scent, he put his ears back and then sat up. "Trading what now?" he asked, quite capable of doing small business for his master.
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Posted: Thu Jun 19, 2008 1:00 pm
While Gan frantically groomed away the results of the sneeze, the gold and blue mus faced Amberglow and said, "This one is Racket, Mus to Catchfly, apothecaryatyourservice."
"An apothecary?" The female's eartufts perked up as she looked toward Catchfly. They went back down a moment later when the quiet male spat out a sentence so fast that Amber hardly understood. She was confused when Racket scampered over to her, his sunny attitude presenting quite the opposite of his master.
"Trading what now?" he squeaked after recovering from another sneeze.
Once again, Amber was torn between attending to the morsel at her feet and keeping eye contact with Catchfly. If only he'd speak normally! It would make things so much simpler.
At last, she chose to focus on Racket. It seemed to her that was what the other Sentinel intended, but it felt strange indeed. "I've got a few things here with me," she told the mus, bending to flip her pack open. She took two small objects from it and placed them on the ground. The first was a piece of spongey wood that smelled of pine. The second was a glass beaker of sorts, filled with a rosy liquid. Amber used her toe to point at the chunk of wood.
"This is meant to make your nest or work area smell better. I have other kinds of varying strengths, mostly made from flowers. And this," she pointed at the beaker, "I've just started working on this. You can use it to make your food taste like raspberries!" With a hopefully sales-inducing smile, she nodded toward her wares. "Racket, you can take these to Catchfly and see what he thinks. Gan, please help him."
With one last lick to his fur, Gan twitched an ear at Racket, waiting to see if he would take up the offer.
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Posted: Thu Jun 26, 2008 8:45 am
Catchfly watched Amberglow quietly, though he wished she'd stop staring at him and pay attention to his mus. It was always this way, when he met people for the first time. Catchfly had spent long hours training Racket, only to have his vibrant little assistant disregared as a snack, perhaps a tool if he was lucky. He wondered briefly if having an apprentice would make it easier and decided not. Racket, so much brighter than other mus and from a line that could speak more eloquently than some Sentinels (especially Catchfly, though a half-stupid Skurri could speak more eloquently than Catchfly could), had learned to live with the difficulties, and sat up to wait patiently for Amberglow to turn her attention to him.
He was rewarded soon enough, and the goods that Amber distributed were interesting. Racket twitched his nose and glanced over at Catchfly. He knew immediately that Catchfly would want the beaker of the pink liquid, if not for the interesting (and he could tell that they were indeed interesting) contents, then for the glass itself. It was hard to come by, and Catchfly hadn't inherited from his parents. Racket glanced at Catch, who immediately gave a short nod, and picked up the beaker himself. Squeaking quietly in thought, he smoothly began rolling it along the branch.
Catchfly, infinitely more interested in the glass than any sort of flavouring, realized that this would be a job for him if he didn't want the thing damaged. Sighing heavily, he spread his wings jerkily and then slowly flapping over to the branch. He landed lightly, putting a foot over Racket and the beaker to keep either of them from falling. Picking up the beaker in his beak, he inclined his head to Amberglow, while Racket squeaked, groomed his whiskers, and then called out, "Many thankyous."
Catchfly blinked slowly, and took the other trinket as well. Inclining his head again to Amberglow, he smiled slightly around the beaker and turned, his body language suggesting he'd be right back. And indeed, it was only a minute or so, while Racket scampered about sniffing Mor and Gan and being generally interested, until the other Sentinel returned.
He frowned slightly, and paused a long moment, before eventually speaking. "Come." There was another pause, and he nodded his head. "Can show best."
"Best trees, best flowers, best fruities in the summer!" Racket caroled merrily, scampering along the branch to climb up onto his master's back.
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Posted: Thu Jun 26, 2008 9:29 pm
Amber was ecstatic that Catchfly had shown interest in her offerings, especially her newest venture. It never occurred to her that the other Apothecary would place the highest value on the glassware, and not what was in it. She might regret the trade later when she found herself short a beaker, but for now it was an encouraging victory.
Watching the silent interaction between the Wildtype male and his mus, it became clear to her that the little mammal was, in a sense, an extension of Catchfly. She still wasn’t sure why, but she was beginning to get used to it.
When Racket invited her to follow, Amberglow cheerfully directed her companions onto her back and spread her wings for flight.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2008 1:20 pm
To be honest, as an apothecary, Catchfly was a purist. He did not truck with the silliness and frivolities like making dye, or in Amber's case, making things that were not important to the well-being of the clan. But he had also been taught by a medicine maker, a true purist, more vehement than Catchfly would ever be. So it was not, in truth, all his own thinking.
Which was well enough, since Catch did so little of that on his own anyway. Spreading his wings and glancing back once at Amber, just to make sure she was still with him, he left the branch and angled off in the direction of the crabapple grove he was slowly beginning to consider his own.
His flight, as it had always been, was extremely deliberate, and movements that most Sentinels took for granted--sweeping banks, long strokes of his wings, quick turns--he seemed to think hard about, though he never missed a stroke. Flying was innate in all Sentinels, even those who constantly had to think ahead to make sure they were doing it right.
The grove was near, and Catchfly passed over the short fruit trees without thinking about it, before coming to a halt and perching in the spreading branches of a much taller pine on the edge of the grove. He waited quietly for Amber to catch up, preening his wings quickly and looking at her solemnly, teal eyes bright.
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Posted: Thu Jul 03, 2008 11:57 am
As Catchfly took to the air, Amberglow side-stepped swiftly along the branch and launched her feathered body after him. Feeling rewarded for her patience, she silently thanked Noctus for her acceptance of others’... oddities.
At the same time, Amber was very aware that she herself was an odd one. She just chose to pretend she didn't notice the whispers that usually came from somewhere behind her. It's not like she was doing anything wrong, and she always provided food for herself and her family just like any other good Sentinel.
Those thoughts soon left her mind, for the young mother was not the kind to hold on to bitterness. She and Catchfly were flying over a grove of crabapple trees, which she wistfully followed with her eyes as they passed overhead. They came to rest in a pine tree, where Amber found herself waiting again on the male's brightly-dyed mus for instruction. She could feel Catch's eyes on her, though. She wondered if happened to his usual customers…
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Posted: Fri Jul 04, 2008 9:43 am
When Amber had perched beside him, Catchfly turned again and inclined his head to the grove. "Crabapple," he said, and suddenly his speech seemed to lose some of its catch and become easier. It was an apothecary's craft Catch was speaking about now, and he had long ago memorized this speech from his minder. All his craft was stored in his memory, and as long as he didn't have to think for himself, he was quite capable of repeating or listing uses. "No real use for the fruit, though tasty. Flowers look nice and smell nice...can be dried, sometimes powdered for colouring."
He shrugged his wings and looked back at Amberglow, offering her a brief smile. Then he turned his head more to look at Racket and nodded to the mus, indicating that she should continue to direct her business in that direction. Racket squeaked, twitched his whiskers, and clambered down onto the branch.
"Take as much as you want," he said happily. "Fill a pack, fill a basket, doesn't matter." Grooming his ears as he spoke, he turned to Catchfly, then back to Amberglow, and then scampered back up Catchfly's back. "We has baskets if'n you want lots," he suggested, ignoring the sudden miniscule tightness of his master's shoulders. He had surprised Catchfly with that one. "Can bring for you, perhaps?" the mus continued. This would be good for Catchfly. Very good indeed.
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Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2008 8:05 pm
Amber nodded and listened with great interest as Catchfly described uses for the crabapples. It simplified the testing she’d have to do later on at home. “Wonderful! I’d love to have some.”
"Take as much as you want," his mus said. "Fill a pack, fill a basket, doesn't matter." That sure sounded good. But oddly generous. An air freshener and a bit of flavoring weren’t worth “as much as you want,” were they?
“Are you sure?” she questioned, wanting to make absolutely certain it was all right.
But the mus and his master seemed just fine with it. "We has baskets if'n you want lots. Can bring for you, perhaps?"
The Wildtype’s eyes widened considerably. It was too good to be true. “Oh, could you? One basket would be perfect!” She glanced at the male Sentinel, dipping her head in deference as she realized how pushy she must’ve sounded. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
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Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 8:48 am
Catchfly never understood why Sentinels seemed to think he owned the grove. He was certainly not impressive, nore was he strong enough to maintain any territory other than his single tree, and though he had taken to his craft like a parus to singing or a mus to being a pushy know-it-all, he had no skill in combat. He could barely hunt for himself, after all. But if Amber was going to insist on asking, well...he would let Racket handle it. He never bothered to tell the ones who asked otherwise, though those who knew him, or at least about him, came and went without asking. There was no trouble.
Amberglow's excitement amused him somewhat, and he managed to smile at her, even though Racket's ever-so-generous offering was just another chance for Catch to humiliate himself. But nonetheless, he couldn't simply disregard his mus's words, and inclined his head. Racket stood up to look at her, smiled, and squeaked, "Be right back!" merrily, as Catch opened his wings and took off, as jerkily as ever, in the direction of his willow.
He was back in next to no time at all, the basket in his claws unbalancing him and making his awkward flight look even more like a potential disaster. Nonetheless, he managed to shift his hold from his claws to his Will, and he landed near Amber. He offered her the basket and gave her another small smile.
Antisocial he might be, but rude he was not. And even if he wouldn't admit it to himself, he was enjoying the company.
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 7:12 pm
Amberglow had a lot of trouble restraining herself when she reached with her Will for the basket. She didn’t want to accidentally bump anyone with it in her joyous haste to get to work. When she had it safely in her talons, she quickly thanked Catchfly again and flew swiftly into the crabapple grove.
Gan and Mor squeaked to Racket and then scampered along after Amber, plucking crabapples and nibbling them until their master sent a sharp word their way. They then put their efforts to helping her gather, bringing their finds and depositing them in the basket. Both mus knew better than to pick fruit with holes, bruises or spots. Those they were allowed to eat if they wished.
Amber hadn’t ever tried a crabapple before; they looked a lot like cherries in size and shape, but were tart and crispy instead of soft and sweet. Not bad, as Catchfly had said. And that reminded her of his description of the blossoms… she scouted out a few that were slightly rotten, as well as a beakful of some that were more pristine. The scents were subtly different, and would be made more so when mixed with her strengthening ingredients.
She was so into her new discoveries that she nearly forgot her benefactor. She looked up and hooted at him, remembering immediately after she did it that he preferred to let his mus act as his mask. She fluffed a bit in embarrassment and repeated the call to Racket, hoping Catch hadn’t noticed. It was a vain hope, for she was sure by now that he noticed everything. An admirable and useful trait, indeed.
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Posted: Tue Sep 23, 2008 9:02 pm
Catchfly watched the female with an expression somewhat akin to amusement (or at least the Catchfly equivalent of amusement...whatever that happened to be) as she flitted here and there looking for blooms and fruit. It was interesting to see another Apothecary at work, particularly one who, as far as Catch could tell, specialized in something totally unusual and counterintuitive to the craft. But he settled down quickly enough, keeping an eye on the strange female and her mus.
When she had finished, he straightened up and looked at her, as well as at Racket. The little mus had been watching Amber with great interest, and now it was sitting up and looking cheerily at the Sentinel, dark eyes completely unafraid. Catchfly occasionally marveled at the boldness of the little creature, particularly since many Sentinels wouldn't hesitate to eat it, no matter how bright its dye or clever its words. But Racket didn't bother with things like that.
"Done?" he called in his tiny voice, and then scrambled up onto Catchfly's back. "If you lead, we follow, take back basket!" he said, ignoring the way Catch tensed irritably below him. The beastie was clever, from Fletcher's lines, and he certainly had a mind of his own when it came to what was good for his master. Catch knew that; Racket was considered his voice, so anything Racket said, Catchfly had to do. And he always did so, reluctantly. Inclining his head in agreement, he sighed softly and preened his wings to indicate readiness. He would be ready when Amber was.
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