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 Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:28 pm
Rejam  She is only days into her first patrol and she has already lost all but one of her charges. This is typical of a Tidewalkers recruitment march: usually only one or two makes it even halfway through, up to the northern borders, before they are tempted away by the soft and lovely life there, and the Tidewalker ends up hoofing it back alone. She expects this will happen soon; the buck who accompanies her is barely more than a colt and he has vanished into the trees to seek out food, leaving Undertow standing knee-deep in the water, nosing absently along a mangrove root seeking out patches of moss. The doe's sides are dusty and mud-streaked by turns; there is a fresh patch of bloodied skin on her knees. Patrols are by design set at a brutal and unforgiving pace and injuries are sustained in their course. This day with its leisurely pauses is a rare breather, and Undertow, rather than looking worse for the wear, only seems more like herself in her battle scars. Her hair has the ragged salt-blown appearance typical of Tidewalkers, tangled up on her forehead, and her stout, sturdy body--a little shorter, perhaps, than the average doe--has an appealing hardiness to it that makes the scrapes and scabs seem natural. When she hears the distinct sound of an approach, she lifts her head, unhurried and unworried despite being alone in the tangled wilderness. "Brackenflank?" she asks.
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:29 pm
A creature that is decidedly not 'Brackenflank' tumbles out of the wiry grass that grows atop a beach dune, doing a strange little somersault or two before coming to land on his hooves. "Aha! There, I think we've lost it, Fool Dance!" the creature exclaims, apparently to itself -- but then a little dark blur of fur comes tumbling out of the grass behind him. It lands gracefully at its master's feet and proceeds to cower behind his forelegs, large ears twitching nervously. The creature -- an acha -- rolls his eyes at the cowardlyness of his little pet. "Do stop your shivering, Dance, it's unbecoming. I don't know why he's so afraid, the silly thing," he continues, turning to the doe who he hadn't previously acknowledged (though he clearly knew she was there) and sighing dramatically. "It's only another fennec, and I rather think we've lost it this time--" His words are interrupted by another rustling in the beach-grass and a high-pitched yipping sound, followed by an orange and blue streak that comes barelling out onto the sand. The acha squeezes his eyes shut tight for a moment as if the act will make the little thing disappear. It does not. "No, go away!" he shouts at the fennec, swatting at it with his forehooves. His own fennec scrunches back against the curve of its master's body. "It won't stop following us, you see," he offers to the doe, his eyes beseeching.
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:30 pm
Rejam There is a long, heavy silence. These are typical of Undertow's conversation, as the Acha will swiftly learn. "Those aren't common here. He must like you very much to have followed you so far." She eyes the little creature, and thinks longingly of the seclusion of the Tidewalkers' stretch of beach two days back, and then still more longingly of the Swamp ahead. "Your kind are not common here, either. This is dangerous territory. You do your little pets a disservice by dragging them into the mouth of unknown perils."
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:32 pm
Playing Fox stares flatly at the doe for a few moments, as if evaluating her somehow. The second fennec continues to yip at his feet. Then a playful grin spreads across the acha's face. "Oh don't fret for my safety. There are plenty of dangers out on the desert sands, and we acha have sharp hooves." The grin becomes, for a moment, almost sinister, foreboding, but fades back into playful innocence as he continues. "As for the foxes...well, my Fool Dance will obey me well enough, but this other one..." he glared at the yipping fennec, his eyes hard. "It's just not quite up to par. I think it likes Dance rather a bit too much, to be honest."
He pauses for a moment, looking the doe over again and taking in her scratched knees, her weathered hide. "You look like you might be the mistress of Unknown Perils herself," he concludes, his tone almost complimentary. "I don't suppose you're looking for a ... companion?" His eyes slide over to the second fennec in indication, but there is something in his voice that belies another meaning entirely.
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:33 pm
Rejam The seconds stretch into silence. "Your lack of subtlety is showing," she says finally. But she doesn't sound disapproving. Quite to the contrary, the vaguest suggestion of a smile ghosts around her mouth.
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:35 pm
There's a glimmer of knowing in the acha's eye as he smirks playfully up at the doe. "I certainly don't know what you are talking about," he retorts, putting on a huffy, self-important tone. "I am the perfect gentleman."
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:35 pm
Rejam "It has not been my experience that gentlemen are subtle," she retorts, although it is diminished somewhat by the lengthy pause preceding it. "Although they typically introduce themselves."
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:37 pm
He snorts. "Well then; so do ladies," he responds, his tone implying that she is not one -- but also that he would perhaps like her less if she was. "But the high-minded are inclined to dissemble. I am Playing Fox."
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:38 pm
Rejam "Undertow." Even this requires thought; perhaps it is a false name. Perhaps she only wants him to think it is. "Did you bring your annoying friend all the way from the deserts? I have not yet met any of your kind, but stories have come down to us even here."
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:40 pm
"Already I feel a bit swept under," he teased. "It is a fitting name." Frowning, he turns to the orange and blue fennec which has now lain itself down at his feet, its nosed stretched toward Fool Dance; it is whimpering. "This one I picked up somewhere in the swamp -- a straggler, no doubt, left behind by its previous masters. Fool Dance I brought with me from the desert."
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:41 pm
Rejam "I can't imagine why on earth someone would abandon it," she says. The flat drawl says everything it needs to. "Look at its little eyebrows. It's so hopeful. You are being very cruel."
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:42 pm
Playing Fox snorts again -- apparently this is his version of laughter. "Hopeful that it will get a turn with my Fool Dance, I'm sure. It needs training, but my methods seem to have failed."
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:43 pm
Rejam "My mentors would suggest a firmer control," she says, and she gives her head an absentminded shake that sends the coral around her neck clicking. "You can hardly blame it for pursuing its natural desires." Stooping slightly as if to get on eye level with the fennec, she tips her ears forward, beckons with a clicking sound. "Don't you understand your own kind, Fox? Foxes need controlling, not fleeing. A Fox will hunt you forever until it gets what it wants, or so I am led to believe."
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:44 pm
She is as sharp and witty a doe as any the acha has met, and he cannot help but feel a little enthralled. "You seem to know a great deal about creatures you admit to never having encountered before," he replies, watching her with renewed interest. "Perhaps you need some first-hand experience."
The orange and blue fennec, meanwhile, has pricked up its ears in response to Undertow's clicking and is tilting its head at her curiously.
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:45 pm
Rejam Another long thought. She is very deliberate; it is clear that she turns over each word she hears, fully digests its meaning. "I've met no Acha but I have met plenty of Foxes. If the stories are any indication you take after the latter." She clicks again at the fennec, beckoning it nearer, and shakes her matted hair from her eyes. "What first-hand experience? I could try my hand at teaching you to sit and stay." She smiles, then--it is the first time she has. A wise woman is sparing with her smiles, the better to preserve their novelty. She once suggested this to Waterside, who snorted and informed her that a wiser woman still simply excludes them from her facial vocabulary. "How much success would I have?"
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