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 Posted: Thu Aug 21, 2008 7:22 pm
The air smelled different. Drastically so. Home was dry, familiar and seemed to have an undertone of banana bread and gasoline. Quincy felt slightly uncomfortable as he sat atop the slide, halted and not really enthusiastic about moving. The few other occupants of the lakeside playground were not so interested in him and were much more interested in the nearby waters. The air was thick with moisture and wet grass, mud and fish. It was still fresh, just not comfortable. So the Aussie pup stood on the play structure, before the slide, after the monkey bars and simple looked up. To say that Quincy was feeling melancholic was a slight understatement. He wanted to be up there but after the junkyard with the other dog boy, Luc, pack member, friend and protectee, he only wanted to go back and help. He sniffed and lazily looked about the play structure before a sudden thought hit him.
This could be his barracks and over all fort. Just for today, he could pretend to be a soldier in a quest for flight. He scurried over to the slide, skidding down with fur facilitated ease and ran beneath the structure, crawling through wooden beams until he spied Aaron sitting on the bench by the hill. He grinned and thought that his dad would be someone to protect too… all the more reason to screen his fort for enemies.
And then he sneezed. Ouch. Why had the nose been bothering him so much? The boy plopped onto the ground and held the small olfactory appendage, buttoned and wet, trying to make the ache go away. But he couldn’t. Again another sneeze, followed by a string of others.
“Quince?” Aaron called out. “Get out from under there, you might have allergies to dust or something.” The guardian called out. Quincy merely sighed and rubbed his nose before crawling out back to the slide, back to his perch.
“Alright bud?” the question was called out over a laptop and a sketchbook filled with notes and fun colors.
“’M alright, dad.” Quincy called back before something caught his eye, a very shiny penny. Good, the fort needed a treasury.
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Posted: Thu Aug 21, 2008 8:06 pm
Ranza yowled her best made-up swear word and glared daggers at her broken wallet. The clasp had come undone -again-, spilling her change onto the ground. Quarters, dimes, and smaller denominations of coin went everywhere, sending the parrot girl into a tizzy. After all, a good pirate could hold onto their treasure! And she needed those coins if she was going to buy Nah a new bike!
She crouched over and began plucking up coins, moving in a slow spiral so she didn't miss any. She tucked them back into her wallet, fairly oblivious to anything else that was going on around her.
She reached for the last penny, and was surprised to see someone else reaching for it at the same time. She looked up, sizing up the little boy crouched opposite her. What was with all the dogs lately?
"That's mine," she said accusatorially.
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Posted: Thu Aug 21, 2008 8:37 pm
Quincy bounded back nearly colliding with the older girl. A sharp yelp was released as he fell backwards onto his tail rather uncomfortably before rolling over onto his stomach. Small pebbles from the playground, dirt and grass lodged themselves onto his RAF jacket as he attempted to scramble up. He halted as he saw a flash of bright color before everything dulled down to somber grays and blues. This weird stuff was getting weird. First his nose now his eyes and head. He released a pitiful whimper before curling up on himself and sitting awkwardly as he saw the older person snatch the penny. Oh well. Most barracks couldn't even afford nice blankets. Maybe they didn't need a treasury.
The boy cocked his head in a fashion that could only be described as a puppy action and sniffed the scent of the parrot lady. Her feathers looked nice and her over all appearance was rather rugged. Something didn't seem right and something within him started squealing that he should take precaution. However, oppositely another half yowled for him to make friends and play. Maybe with feathers? Quincy considered the character before him as he attempted to register the events leading up until this point....
It was her coin that he was taking. Guilt welled up in his tiny chest, enough to curl the toes and make his tail stiffen into a halt.
"I. I'm sorry." Quincy stuttered as he found himself in the surprising position of the wrong doer. "I didn't mean to steal. I thought nobody wanted it."
Quincy reached down and picked up the coin, holding it out to the other girl, despite its shiny exterior and his want to keep it. "I just wanted to make a treasury for my...er. the fort."
The boy scraggled at his words for a few more seconds, allowing for his tongue to play over pointed canines and tail to start wagging. "My name's Quincy..." He offered in lame greeting.
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Posted: Thu Aug 21, 2008 8:54 pm
Ranza sat back on her heels, listening to the boy. When he was quiet, she scratched her arms thoughtfully. A few ratty looking feathers drifted to the ground. They'd been doing that all day, and she was starting to wonder why.
She sighed, wondered why she was so nice, and handed him a shiny quarter out of her change-purse. It was an honest mistake, right?
"I don't see a fort," she said, looking around, "Just a ratty old playground and a kid in a jacket in the middle of summer."
She hopped to her feet and offered a hand to the boy. She'd met another puppy boy once, but this one seemed more tolerable. Maybe because she was older than him.
"I'm Ranza," she said. Another feather fell.
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Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2008 9:43 am
Quincy stopped moving, breathing, twitching... anything to calm his nerves and not appear as a horrid wreck. He really did not want to mess anything up with anyone, especially not with someone who was older. Yet, she appeared nice, something Quincy could grow accustomed to. He smiled and tentatively took the quarter. It was rude to refuse a gift, and this one was worth more because it was bigger. The boy smiled, ears twitching to lie flatter against his head in a sheepish look.
"Thank you..." He muttered and then glanced at the change purse then the coin. "Are you sure you don't need it?" She was older, and older people use money to buy things.
"But, this is a fort." Quincy said in opposition the obligation of the quarter long forgotten. "It's my base today and this is my favorite coat. I've had it forever."
Quincy scurried over to the play structure, tail wagging as he fell to his hands and knees by the opening of the underside. The planks of wood jointed together, looking more like tunnels than anything. "Here is the entrance and down there is the boiler room, cause it has a pipe."
The boy paused to watch a few feathers falling down, bright colors piercing his usual monochromatic view and sniffed the scent of old down. "Ranza? I think you're melting...or malting?" Quincy attempted to use his small amount of difficult vocabulary. Recently, after reading Make Way For Ducklings, molting had become a term the boy had begun to associate with. Granted he was shedding opposed to molting.
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Posted: Wed Sep 03, 2008 3:44 pm
"Molting," scowled Ranza as she followed him beneath the playground. That was it. She'd done this before. Except she didn't recall it itching so much before. From under the jungle gym it was easy to understand the appeal of the location - it was cool and moist down here, and smelled pleasantly of woodchips.
"So, uh, Quincy," she ventured, "What do we do in this fort?"
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Posted: Wed Oct 15, 2008 6:38 pm
Deep breath and dive in as small fingers dug into the soft mulch beneath his nails. It was the exhilarating scent of safety and complete cover that made the boy giddy. Quincy's tail seemed to beat a thousand miles per hour at the interest the older Hiccup had shown in his game. He spun about, knee prodding upwards into his shoulder in his curled up position. His nose twitched, itched and wiggled as carrot brown eyes studied Ranza carefully. She was trustworthy enough and a companion. Sharp specks of green, blue and yellow would pierce his vision suddenly but the ache between his head was beginning to fade into normalcy.
Ranza wanted to know what they did here… What didn’t happen in a fort? A canine grin spread upon small lips and he sat with feet in his hands, barely able to contain his excitement. His nose settled, no longer itching, receding to a dull ache until he was able to look around him. The fort was large; the boiler room was by the fireman’s pipe… Other places obviously needed names.
“We look out for enemies, spies and beasties.” Quincy said in a small yet curt voice. “Here, I’ll show you around!”
Slowly the pup turned around and began to crawl over to the wooden structure that supported the slide. “A lot happens in this fort. Here is the weaponry and emergency escape exit.” The large grin plastered all over his face wouldn’t go down as he brought Ranza past the jiggly bridge, which was the hanger and the grated climbing structure lead to topside where the general sleeps. “We have to be quiet so we don’t wake him… Wake the general and he’ll give you a beating and cleaning duties…” The boy stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Like cleaning the bathroom with a tooth brush!”
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Posted: Sat Oct 18, 2008 6:59 am
"Ooh," said Ranza, finding herself a bit caught up in the younger child's imaginings. At least it distracted her from the fire on her arms and head! "Cleaning the bathroom with a tooth brush doesn't sound fun at all!" she said.
"Enemies? Spies? Beasties?" she asked, peering around a pillar that held up a platform above their heads. "Who are we fighting?" she asked. "Are we fighting Nazis? Like in Indiana Jones?"
Maybe Nahuel would be more suited for this game than she was. He knew a lot more about fighting bad guys and being totally awesome while he did it. Except Nahuel was mad at her right now...
"How do we fight 'em?" she asked, lowering her voice as to not wake the sleeping general above.
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