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 Posted: Thu Mar 17, 2011 1:33 pm
"That's...odd." Grass spends a lot of his time alone, but even then, there are all those fluffy foxbuns and other creatures to see and talk to, and usually a Kimeti wonders through, so he can talk to them. Being that alone seems...distracting, almost. But maybe nice.
"So you can't really tell me about my siblings? Oh, well. Maybe we'll meet one of them someday." He is interested, but also slightly apprehensive. What if one of his clutchmates or half-siblings is just like Longstride? Grass isn't exactly sure he can deal with two of them; the original had shoved him off a bluff not too long ago, after all. So maybe he'd just make certain that he was never the one near the edge, just in case.
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Posted: Tue Apr 12, 2011 8:28 am
What Longstride fails to mention is that Grass has a lot of other siblings -- eight, in fact. They have been scattered to the four winds, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. This thought, of all of his scattered progeny left to fend for themselves, nearly makes him stumble. There is, of course, one that he's met -- but she was definitely unappreciative. He recovers quickly.
"One," he says, gathering himself up for a leap over an anthill (the whole of his body clears the waving grasses), "But she didn't care for me."
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Posted: Tue Apr 12, 2011 2:25 pm
"Oh? Did you shove her over an edge, too?" Grass isn't really willing to let go of the whole near-death experience his father had decided to "bless" him with.
Keeping pace with his father is a tad more difficult than expected, but Grass has enjoyed running in his meadow, chasing moths and fireflies, so while he is behind his father's flanks, it's not by very far. He skirts the anthill--nasty little things, always biting and itchy-- and uses a burst of speed to catch up. "So, how many siblings do I have? Do you know? Or is it just a love 'em and leave 'em thing you've got going?" He's so busy looking at his father that he misses the small hole in front of him and stumbles as his hoof sinks into softened earth. "Whoa!"
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Posted: Tue Apr 12, 2011 2:38 pm
Longstride nearly stumbles -- instead, he manages to turn the unsure footing into another leap. A graceless one, to be sure, but a leap all the same. A moment later, all four hooves firmly on the ground, he turns around to regard Grass, sun-bleached mane tangled across his eyes. He seems to be considering; his tail lazily sweeps across the grass.
If Grass suspects his father is trying to figure out what children belong to which doe, he's right. Eventually Longstride turns blue eyes on him, "Eight. And don't give me that look. Two does. Your mother was the prettier one." He shrugs. "You have seven other siblings. I've met two." He sounds -- vaguely perturbed. Grass can read him like a book.
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Posted: Tue Apr 12, 2011 2:50 pm
He rights himself and shakes the dirt from his coat--again, he's dirty! Ugh-- and looks at his sire. "Was my mother blonde, too? Did my sister look like us? Or am I just a weird one to look like you?" His questions never end, and Grass only spares Longstride a glance at the odd tone. "Are you going to stay by the ocean, when this is over?"
He really wants to know if he'll see his father again--maybe get him to introduce him to his sister, at least, so he knows who she is. But if Longstride stays in one place, it'll be easier to find him--rumors usually had the buck in twelve places at the same time, which made finding him a very real pain in the hooves.
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 2:23 pm
Longstride seems to have to think for a moment; he stands motionless for a moment, looking off towards the horizon where the grass bends and ripples in the wind. "Your mother," he says, and then seems to make the mental connection, "Was blonde, as well. Blonde and white." Dew Drop Sun had been her name. Longstride had immediately been drawn to her; they'd almost been a matched set. A slow smile curls one side of his mouth -- the expression private, thoughtful -- and then he snaps back to reality. "And I don't know." He shrugs. "I didn't stick around."
The last question hauls him up short. None of his children have ever bothered to keep tabs on him; he honestly doesn't know how to answer, so he goes with honestly. "Probably." And then, "You're welcome to come with me."
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Posted: Wed May 25, 2011 12:43 pm
"Somehow, I don't think I'd like all that water. I like to run, you know? But maybe I'll visit. No promises, though. But maybe. If this journey goes okay." Grass is pretty certain he'll find his father again. If only to see the what happens. His sire is certain to find some situation that will make a good story. And Grass happens to like stories, both the listening and telling. But it is time for a different topic, he thinks.
"You've met the Kiokote, right? What are they like? I know you said they're fast, but what else?"
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