Crooked Song (Tongue-Tied x Meets-the-sea)

[and be blue]

A well-kept bower; the branches of trees delicately cultivated to arch well over the head of the average Kimeti buck. The trunks and branches hung with long, graceful loops of dripping moss, interspersed with bright bursts of flowers both living and dead. The earth, where it hadn't been lightly-churned by the heavy step of hooves, was covered with a damp, brightly green layer of soft moss.

It was, in short, a small paradise in the woodlands side of the swamp...and, more importantly, it was Tongue-Tied's pride and joy, not just his home but his personal space, all but invisible from the outside. His private art, not really intended for any purpose but to have it.

He stood at the heart of it, all but disappearing among the foliage and the branches, the colors of his coat mirrored in the colors of the bower around him, the flowers caught in the great rack of his horns the same brilliant pinks and oranges as the flowers sprouting along the edge of the clearing in the center of his home. Tongue-Tied was taller than the average buck, and just a touch lighter, though it was hard to tell with his head bent down as it was.

Horns digging into the dirt to plant fresh, his tail touched with mud, a soft hum -- a foal's rhyme -- caught around the flower he held between his teeth as he worked.  

[hybridic]

The journey home from the ocean to the swamp always seemed so much longer and more difficult than the journey there. The path to the sea tended to pass by in a rush, full of excitement and the thump of her hooves as she ran, her ears straining for the sound of the precious waves. Meets-the-Sea loved the ocean almost more than she could describe, but she could not stay there for long - the food was sparse, and her palate craved the delicate balance of swamp fare that was a Kimeti's natural diet.

The path homewards was always taken more slowly, after one last leap into the waves, her wet fur drying as she trotted, meanderingly, towards the swamp. The smell of salt air still surrounded her, drying into her skin, and Meets was calmly, quietly happy; watching nature slowly transform around her as she came closer and closer to home. On occasion Meets would stumble across another Kimeti in her wanderings, but she preferred to make her journeys alone, allowing herself to meld seamlessly with the nature around her. It was only in this solitude that she really felt truly alive.

So it was not quite a surprise to Meets-the-Sea when she stumbled across another Kimeti, digging at the dirt in a secluded little bower she had thought was perhaps uninhabited and had hoped to spend the night in before finishing her journey home. The Kimeti -- a buck -- didn't seem to notice her presence at first, immersed as he was in his gardening and humming a vaguely familiar tune softly to himself. Normally, Meets would have simply turned and left before the buck became aware of her presence, embarrassed at her intrusion and preferring her solitude to the awkward struggle for conversation that was inevitable when meeting a new 'meti, but something about this particular buck made her pause.

In the first moment, it was the antlers that made her halt, staring -- not in surprise or shock, but out of curiosity and a sudden, compelling wish to examine these unusual appendages more closely. What really caused her to remain, however, was the extreme care with which the buck tended his plants -- a flower in his mouth and mud spotting his tail, a look of extreme satisfaction on his face...and so engrossed in his work. She stood there in silence, watching him with the same reverence she would have afforded for a hunting mongoose or a foxbun rooting in the moss.  

[and be blue]

She could get a very long look: with his head down and his eyes mostly closed, delicately setting the flowers down into freshly-turn dirt, tail thrashing slowly behind him, Tongue-tied certainly didn't see her approach, and the rustle of her hooves through his wildlife could easily have been attributed to the wind.

This meant, of course, that when he did lift his head, eyes bright [and intelligent, yes] she was a complete and utter surprise. For a moment he was struck dumb, just staring at her, frozen as if she were a predator who would only see him when he moved. Only his eyes flicked around to discover which direction she had come from, and to make absolutely certain she was alone.

After a moment, his mouth worked, and he went digging for words. As always, it was difficult: he wanted to ask what she wanted and where she had come from, and perhaps to drive her away from his private space but...it jumbled. Mixed up. "Home to ghost? Must you hunt where? Off!"  

[hybridic]

Meets had almost forgotten that the buck she was watching was real, so lost had she become in her observation of him. The moment when he looked up and saw her, became aware of her presence, shocked her into stillness. She stared at him as he looked around, almost panicked, her eyes a mixture of puzzlement and nervousness, and something almost akin to fear. She had just wanted to watch this strangely beautiful Kimeti at work and had almost forgotten her own existence -- forgotten that when he noticed her she would be dragged back into the world of speech, of consciousness, of all of the tricky little interactions that she found herself so helpless at.

When the words came tumbling out of his mouth, Meets-the-Sea feared for a moment that their unfamiliar syntax was due to her own lack of understanding -- sometimes she got so lost in her own head that words stopped making sense to her, stopped meaning anything at all -- but then she noticed the frustrated look on the buck's face and realized that it was not her own mind playing tricks on her, but his.

Her nerves softened a little. "I...I'm sorry," she replied, her voice dry and almost harsh from lack of use. "I didn't mean to intrude, I didn't know you were here, and then I got...got stuck, watching you, and I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." Meets felt the urge to thwack her head against a tree branch in frustration -- she never knew what to say, was never good at explaining herself. It all seemed so clear in her mind and then words seemed to fail her. Embarassed, she looked down and away, taking a few steps backwards to leave the buck's beautiful solitary bower.  

[and be blue]

One who couldn't speak and one who couldn't understand and -- well, in reality, it wasn't a terrible pairing. He shifted again, dancing carefully over his plants so he wouldn't disturb anything, not moving toward her or away, just...getting a better look. A long better look, his head tilted, antlers catching in low-hanging boughs.

Finally, he made a noise. Not a word, just a sound, it might have been dismissive: she was alright, not stepping on anything yet, and so he could definitely forgive the intrusion. He just didn't know how to let her know that. Eventually, he just lowered his head, hoping she'd recognize the gesture as acceptance.  

[hybridic]

Meets noticed the buck's gentle tender steps over his plants and looked down at her own hooves to make sure she wasn't crushing any of his gardening work. Confident in her ability to navigate the delicate maze of plants and flowers, Meets picked her way a couple steps forward, wary of startling the buck.

His body language seemed to have calmed a bit, and although the solitary doe would usually have taken this opportunity to make her escape, something about this unusual buck called to her. He lowered his head to her, in a kind of mock-bow, and she smiled. "Is this all your work?" she asked, speaking almost without thought. "It's...amazing, beautiful." She danced another few steps forward on the tips of her hooves, careful not to trample anything growing. "Do...do you have a name? That is, if you can...can you speak? You don't have to, I...I understand that it's...it's hard sometimes." She ducked her head, amazed at her own sudden wish to articulate.  

[and be blue]

Another agreeable noise, his eyes flicking upward to the patches of sky that shine down through level after level of interwoven branches, settling on a rosy flower instead of the bright blue patch of sigh, and he considered how to go about answering that. Tongue-tied wasn't an easy name to convey, not when his thoughts plucked the wrong words...

He sidled again, this time oozing over another patch to settle nearer her. Tongue-tied was large, broad across the shoulders, and the height of those antlers only made him seem taller, but the way he moved was too delicate to be intimidating. He blinked down at her, then gestured her in deeper -- entirely welcome to investigate the clusters of plants.

Some were well-cultivated, taken care of, clean and polished works. Others looked more natural, vines tumbling down over branches in a careless way.  

[hybridic]

Meets took in the buck's largeness as he slid a few flower patches closer to her, momentarily intimidated by his broad shoulders and tall stature. As she looks up to him, however, the tenderness in his eyes strikes her, and the fear melts away.

"I'm Meets-the-Sea," the doe murmurs, smiling and bowing her head slightly to the antlered buck. "And it's lovely to meet you. Your garden is the most beautiful I've ever seen." She stepped daintily in the direction the buck indicated, ducking underneath a bower of dangling vines, her eyes wide with wonder and attempting to take in everything. "You have a real way with plants."