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 Posted: Sun Sep 28, 2008 6:15 pm
 Conscious movement can be a frightening thing when one has just plummeted several feet and into a new world because of it. Night Heron found that out in the simplest way possible when he woke from his dream, piercing the delicate sac that surrounded him with a quick elbow and bringing it to the hard earth in a heap of mewling baby goop. The infant let out a warbled call, curious and aching, trembling and frightened beneath the brilliant sun. Surely, this was an experience he would never forget.
Over a period of two days he had managed to crawl from his shattered, slimy casing and had since hidden himself beneath the twisted root of a nearby Mangrove, making himself small against the dull brown bark. If his eyes had been open, it would have been obvious to the young one how awful of a hiding spot he had chosen. The base of the Mangrove was reed-less and exposed, and he had chosen a patch illuminated by both the sun and the stars. Had the little black foal been born near the shore of the swamp he'd be half digested within a crocodile by now.
Since his departure from the cold sleeping world, the infant had remained silent, save for a few grunts and whimpers upon escaping his sac. But instinct was kicking in, and the little one was growing bolder, and far more hungry than he had been the previous morning. He would let out a bleat every so often, unknown to him what it may attract, but he hoped in his unrefined mind that it might be something small, weak and delicious.
His hungry calls soon became constant, kid-like moans, though from the stern expression on his face one might think he was debating amongst himself whether or not the entire ordeal (hunger, that is) was worth the fuss. Without much hesitation, the little one stood on shaky legs, now encrusted with dry bits of mud, and raised his call upward, hoping to attract the attention of the bright thing in the sky that he could just make out through his closed eyelids.
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Posted: Mon Sep 29, 2008 7:56 pm
 It is impossible to guess at the unfolding of months or years, of a thousand crossing instances--at pretty much any high-falutin', parasol-toting philosophical question--but chances are that Night Heron's life, or at least the next immediate few hours of it, would have been much different had he in fact caught the attention of the benevolent sun, instead of the attention of Bitterleaf.
Jasper was trailing at her muddied heels--he always was--and it took him several idle-grazing, nervous seconds to realize that his mother had gone still beside him, body tense and alert, eyes trained on the mangrove roots. And then he, too, registered the sound, which he had heard with only half an ear, and drifted closer to her like a leaf on an eddy.
"Mother," he began tremulously, "what--" and he was shut off by the sharp splash of her hoof in the water, wordless warning. Her movement through the water was as slow and silent as a snake's, and Jasper's attempts to imitate her fell just short. The gentle ripples of his steps spread out, around the roots, as Bitterleaf rounded a bend in the undergrowth and found the creature huddled in the shadows.
Jasper peered around his mother's softly-glowing shoulder, his legs, still foal-knobbly, splayed about him and his eyes wide with an unnatural terror, as if Night Heron were a coiling cobra. And Bitterleaf leaned slowly, silently, closer, attempting to close the gap between her scaled nose and the foal's soft one, pausing to see if her presence was noticed. A noise in his throat, Jasper stirred, but an irate flick of Bitterleaf's tail silenced him again.
ooc/ I tense shifted originally. I always RP present tense ;-; I fixed it xD
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Posted: Tue Sep 30, 2008 5:55 am
The foal's bleating stretched on as Bitterleaf closed in, pausing only to survey the distance between himself and the blinding orb above. Upon realizing the creature was not the least bit interested in him, Night Heron instead fixed his attention on the sound of a stranger's hoof-steps. Now, this particular foal had not been given an unusual attention to detail or abnormal hearing ability (for your average Kimeti, as it were). He merely had to swivel his delicate ears towards the surrounding muck and listen for the younger of the two's slightly less elegant feet upon the top of the water. Then, with the breath of the ghostly figure on his nose, the little one drew back, legs tangling and abruptly pulling him down.
Immediately feeling the flood waters of panic swell within his throat, Night Heron blindly stumbled, belly touching the muddy earth as he inched awkwardly backward towards his upraised Mangrove root. It was merely the urge to survive that prompted his clumsy back-step, as the foal was quite curious, his tiny snout searching the air for any clues of who might be approaching. His infant rump met the mighty root, milk-blind eyes still searching the approaching creature with little effort and even less outcome.
Another soft, pleading bleat parted the infant's jaw as his inexperienced legs waggled and gave way beneath him yet again. Unable to navigate and unfamiliar with the mechanics of walking, Night Heron bundled into a pathetic heap of black and purple, the tip of his nose just peeking out beneath an oddly splayed leg.
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Posted: Tue Sep 30, 2008 7:47 pm
"This one may have fallen," Bitterleaf said after a moment of pause, her voice laden with an odd satisfaction, "but he stood up, you see?" As if Jasper could have missed it. As if he couldn't remember Bitterleaf's gentle, coaxing, but merciless nose lifting him again and again onto his fragile, still-soft hooves, until with triumph in every aching limb he had taken his first step, premature but ultimately successful. As if he couldn't remember Bitterleaf's soothing and excited voice, urging him onwards and giving cold, disapproving comfort when he fell. He didn't answer, he only watched the foal with a distant expression. The phosphorescent glow on his neck, scattered into the shape of feathers falling, pulsated gently.
Tossing the unusual mane of hair from her face, Bitterleaf moved closer to the collapsed heap, exhaling over Night Heron's nose again, and then sniffing gently. The scrutiny was oddly intense, and with sudden excitement at some unknown cue Jasper danced closer, as if anticipating Bitterleaf's next movement, which was to thrust her nose under the splayed limb to push it gently to a more stable position. She would coax him onto his feet, or she would try. The touch of her muzzle was maternal but demanding, and the sun, spearing with capricious suddenness through a gap in the canopy, sifted through the tangle of her mane, an abrupt halo so searingly bright in the mangrove-murk that it drowned out the glow of her shoulders.
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Posted: Wed Oct 01, 2008 6:15 am
Night Heron reacted to the hot breath with another uneasy cringe, though the presence before him was somehow comforting. He returned her scrutiny by nose, inching his baby-soft snout toward her, ears twitching delicately. Her voice was soft, yet domineering, and she exuded a sort of primal authority. Immediately attracted by some greater need, Heron accepted her nudging and doting, and like any child seeking approval, he threw better judgment to the wind, eagerly scrambled back onto his feet.
His thin legs were clumsy, and it took a great deal of effort to rise after that particular fall, but so strong was the urge to draw near the presence that the little black foal gladly succumbed to her. Two weak knees shivered, the sensitive underside of his hooves cushioned by the muddy hearth. Although the little one appeared proud and stern, his rump was still stuck fast to the ground, back feet somehow less mobile than the front. But those two front legs stood straight and strong, despite the occasional twitch or shiver. Lowering his front to the earth, he carefully stretched his back legs, which were now spread lengthwise and quite unstable.
He had to inch forward to get those shaky back legs in an upright position, and by the time he did, his front legs were splayed and uneven. The little one let out another prolonged bleat, dreadfully confused by the shaky limbs that held him to the ground. His closed eyes shifted to the maternal energy before him, then to a smaller, less dominant creature, much like himself. A playful and competitive urgency overtook him. Following the pattern of his first rising, Heron attempted twice more to stand evenly. The first step was easy, it was walking that would topple the foal.
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Posted: Wed Oct 01, 2008 7:02 pm
Even the wobbly stance earned an encouraging nudge from Bitterleaf, just gentle enough not to send the foal toppling over into the muck. Sending up a messy splash, Jasper cut an odd, almost vicious caper, and it would be difficult to say whether it was because of Bitterleaf's contagious satisfaction or some desire to show off, even if the blind foal's eyes couldn't follow the movement.
Bitterleaf was murmuring--not words, not really; just a soothing stream of noise--and she took a step back, giving the foal room--or perhaps just gauging his reaction at the sudden removal of her immediate presence. The doe's stance, proud and taut, suggested that it would be the matter of a moment for her to suddenly call sharply for her son and vanish into the mangrove roots. For himself, Jasper is still fidgeting incessantly, his sore hooves moving to and fro in the mud and his head bobbing, ears back and eyes wide.
ooc/ not the best post D: braindeads tonighhtttt I thinks?
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Posted: Wed Oct 01, 2008 7:18 pm
Heron found solace in the soothing coos the blurry doe made, instantly pacified by the first calming sound he'd been given the pleasure to hear. He kept his weak eyes focused on the taller figure, curious and far too trusting before the maternal presence. He considered his miraculous feat deserving of such praise, and was half way to setting his rump back on the ground when Bitterleaf withdrew, instilling a brief panic in the infant. Hungry for the soft sounds dripping from her throat, he inched forward on wobbling legs, pressing through the slight pain of still too sensitive hooves in an attempt to bring the doe back within his limited sight.
The sudden forward motion nearly tangled his legs, but Heron would not be made a fool of by the slippery muck and wavering figures before him. The foal strained to gain a better view of the two, bleating softly as he took another valiant, though small, step forward. His tail swayed between trembling hind legs, voicing his opinion of the pair. Once again, instinct overtook the blind foal. As if calling for his mother, the little one let out a pathetic half-bleat, half-whimper, stern expression as curious and critical as ever.
He was somewhat distracted by the frantic parading of the second, smaller figure, but that one didn't interest him nearly as much as the cooing, nuzzling one.
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Posted: Thu Oct 02, 2008 6:45 pm
Bitterleaf, conversationally, posed a question: "What do you think his name is?" she mused, and judging from Jasper's silence, she was in the habit of often asking herself questions which she wanted or had no answers to. "He will tell us one day, I imagine. When he learns to speak." She didn't make a move towards the foal, although Jasper did, cutting eyes nervously in the doe's direction as if seeking permission. He didn't get it, but then again, she was entirely motionless, letting the foal decide what to do--to collapse or try to approach, or to simply give up where he stood, and wail. This had been Jasper's reaction, at first.
The colt was picking delicately through the mire, lifting his hooves high and giving them a catlike flick at each step, only to submerge them into the water once more, but he hesitated before he was any closer to Night Heron than Bitterleaf was, afraid to break the invisible but all-too-real circle of challenge she'd just built up around the tottering foal.
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Posted: Thu Oct 02, 2008 9:04 pm
The foal took another brave step forward, this time utilizing his ears, which twitched and swerved in the direction of the doe's voice. But the sound, meshed with the blurred movement before him, led him instead in the direction of Jasper, who had suddenly approached, presence erratic and bold. Reaching his soft nose towards Jasper, Night Heron attempted to bump muzzles with the other male, unaware due to a lack of sight that this wasn't exactly the source of maternal encouragement.
Another soft bleat left his throat, as if coaxing the others towards him, his tone both docile and firm. Clearly he was tired of tottering and wanted them to return to him.
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Posted: Sat Oct 11, 2008 8:45 am
Bitterleaf laughed--surprisingly, the doe laughs often, and sincerely--both for the foal's expression and for her surprise at his demanding nature. Jasper, unceremoniously, sneezed in the foal's face, nose wrinkling.
Moving closer, Bitterleaf shook the mane from her eyes yet again, and came up alongside her son, lowering her nose first to Jasper, and then to Night Heron, rough scales brushing the infant's shoulder and tickling his ear. The whole act was oddly ritualistic, like a priest bestowing benediction, and the swamp haze gathers at the trio's feet like incense smoke.
"What do you think, Jasper?" she asked her son, and he looked at her silently, pale eyes wide and expressionless. Perhaps this was another of her questions to which she expected no answer.
(I think this is destined to be one of those shorter RPs XD Cos. We are pretty much at the point here where Bitterleaf goes MIIIIINE and then we move on? I guess. xD It's really up to Night Heron.)
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Posted: Sat Oct 11, 2008 9:31 am
Heron had mere seconds to relish in the sound of the doe's laughter before a wet, loud zephyr caught him right in the face. He violently withdrew, tangling his legs in the process and landing firmly on his rump. Although very surprised and extremely confused, the little one made no attempts to flee, instead reaching out his nose cautiously. When contact was met between himself and the doe, he expelled yet another whimpering bleat, eyes focusing with blurred edges on the glowing wing on Bitterleaf's shoulder. Entranced, the little one continued his stare, enjoying the doe's touch as the pseudo-ceremony continued.
His ear flickered as a scaly nose caught it, tingles running along the infant's spine and down to his tail. His final piercing gaze was to Jasper, whose equally unusual glowing markings soothed the foal.
ooc: Well, considering the little one is now a colt, sounds quite alright. ;D
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Posted: Sat Oct 11, 2008 2:56 pm
Bitterleaf, this time, did not have any comment about the foal's tumble. Having gotten no answer from Jasper--having expected none--she idly nibbled on a low-hanging tendril of kudzu, ears settling back in the manner of someone who has decided to make herself comfortable. Jasper, catching the mood, followed suit, pushing his nose through the water after a patch of duckweed. Neither of them strayed from the infant, the doe occasionally reaching back to give him a nudge, and their sudden comfortable silence was one of acceptance, or at least, on Jasper's part, of tolerance; without a word Bitterleaf had made a decision to keep the little one in her sights, at least until he was old enough to make her re-evaluate her decision. Three pale spots of light in the murk of the swamp: blue-green, white, and violet, gathered up into one glowing smudge in the undergrowth.
(You can answer this or leave it? XD I haven't RP in ages omggg I am so rusty, I am surprised you are tolerating me. I promise I'll get better as I fall back into the swing of things.)
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