[PRP] With Open Eyes (Grigori + King Prometheus)

[Lady_Ourania]

The midday heat wave had forced Grigori to take shelter beneath a familiar congregation of aspen, their yellowed leaf shadows chasing each other across the ghostly planes of his coat. Every soft stir of the trees' branches lulled him, and it hadn't been long before he'd admitted defeat and laid down to drowse. His fawn-colored limbs still curled protectively around a scrap of bark, the edges of it curved up to form a concavity. At its center rested the flower heads he'd harvested earlier that day, their exteriors shriveled and brown, delicate petals half-baked by the sun. But Grigori believed that the seedpods they carried remained viable: a glimpse inside had shown the precious cargo they held, a multitude of lives caught in shiny, black carapaces, just waiting for the right touch to awaken. All he had to do was transplant them to his garden and tend to them as his own, murmuring reassurances and encouragement until slips of green appeared. From there, they would flourish with only light maintenance, providing company in exchange for all his hard work.

In truth, he spent more time talking to his plant-kin than he did any other living creatures, and seeing them respond to it never failed to warm him. Experience had taught the foal that other beings, particularly those who tried to claim some fellow-feeling, tended to be less straightforward in their interactions. Yet such a deceitful nature seemed almost inevitable, given how they existed without the influence of tree guardians. Unanchored, condemned to live with halved souls and blinded to any sense of purpose, it was difficult to relate to them even in passing.

When he'd left the folds of his family, he had been unprepared to confront these base entities, their responses fueled by haste, fear, and pain. Many could not understand the way he'd devoted himself to his craft, and often spurned his measured words and manners. On some level, he knew that they thought him slow, perhaps even stupid, a misunderstanding which provoked pity in some and disgust in others. Avoidance had become a normal response over the last few months, and the solitude proved soothing to both himself and the patch of earth he called his own. That was why he'd moved his garden so far inside the boundaries of the woods, not trusting the treeless beasts to leave them well enough alone. Sustenance was one thing, but he'd witnessed enough mindless gluttony to promote a greater sense of vigilance. The climbing crown of thorn plants Grigori had cultivated around the northern perimeter were coming in slowly, their thick, spiny branches partially camouflaged by a spill of innocuous red flowers. Once they were fully matured, they would prevent anyone from tripping into his garden and mistaking the succulent varieties of plant life there for an easy meal.

The prospect of such fortifications made a slight smile bow his mouth, the expression fleeting as he slipped further into a state of slumber. He wasn't far from home now, and with any luck the unusual temperatures would make other creatures equally lethargic. With his eyes closed and his body relaxed, the tree on his back became steadily more alert. The budding roses hung amidst the branches opened slightly, just enough to allow the nascent organs that sat at the heart of them to peer out. Multicolored irises surveyed the area around them in silence, occasionally blinking in unison as Grigori slept. They kept watch as the sky began to change colors, deepening from powder blue into the dusky shades of evening.  

[musicaloner7]

Lady_Ourania

{ Will be referring to them as "King" for the time being, until a name is solidified. }

The heat was indeed soul sucking, and overbearing with its presence this sweltering day. It accented even the most irritating of things, from the high, reedy cries from cicada and locus kin, to the actual sound of the very surroundings crackling and crisping. A heavy weight pushed down, invisible, but its source not unknown. Many sought refuge from the unbelievable brazen performance the sun was putting on... but King was not one of them.

Paws pattered through the drying, shriveling grasses, brisk and with very little disturbance. They were like a flash of white, there and then gone in the blink of an eye! ....or more. Blue, delicate wings kept firmly folded along the sleek pale back, out of the way of any reaching branches that might way to score the fragile membrane even further. White, sleek tail rippled behind like a ribbon, aiding in the sharp turns, and providing excellent balance for the racing foal! They'd glance over their shoulder from time to time, dual pair of eyes blinking rapidly, glistening with excitement to match the beaming, fanged grin on their face. Behind them, far, FAR, behind them, was their guardian Shifa. The poor uni-kalona had been struck with the heats influence as well, having slowed a great deal, and taken numerous breaks to find some sort of relief beneath trees and any overhanging canopy that was kind enough to give him shade. It was all too fun for the youngling to rouse that funny looking face that Shifa always got when running after them after taking off without warning. And King had gotten so far now!

After awhile though, they too needed to take enough of a break to catch their breath, panting lightly, little chest heaving, and tail flicking about as the uncomfortable heat started to finally get the better of them. A might sigh was given, accompanied with a 'phew!' as their features all together slumped at once. That'd been exhausting! But totally worth it... With a wry smirk lazily wriggling onto their lips, the youth decided now was as good a time as any to check out just where the heck they were. Scenting the air, while multiple eyes skimmed about, they could instantly conclude it was indeed new territory. Nothing smelled familiar... or looked familiar. Their own scent wasn't here... so new land it must be.

However, there was someones perfume that caught King's attention, making those frail wings twitch upright in a flash, ears alert as well. Someone was nearby... awesome! whole demeanor perking up, they trotted along following the aroma, nostrils twitching madly as they hunted down their mark. It took not long for them to come upon the other foal, stopping right in their tracks, a sharp grin cutting across their face, "Hey! who are you?" they asked bluntly, having no problem strolling right on up to the resting kiddling to check them out.


 

[Lady_Ourania]

Things moved here and there in the balmy heat, and the eyes in Grigori's tree noted them idly, capable of categorizing them from a distance. One positioned at an upward angle observed dragonflies on gossamer wings cutting by in bright blue streaks. Another reported rodents as they hustled through the dry grass, their grey, silken cheeks puffed with stored food. It wasn't until something large enough to present a threat approached that they moved as one, a Multitude united in their purpose to detect. Before long the foal in question emerged, and they tracked it with a hive-mind's focus, watching as it seemed to notice their host and advance without fear. Though still a sapling, the tree on the colt's lower back possessed roots thick enough to compress around the surrounding flesh, a warning and a wake up call delivered in the gesture.

Grigori cracked one eye open at the pressure, still bleary with sleep. Then an alien voice called to him, close enough to ignite a sense of wariness in his bones. A few blinks and he could make out the feet scant inches from his nose, each toe complete with a black-tipped claw. Above that sat a series of intricate patterns rendered in dark blue: a leaf, a wheel, a trio of cattails, held in check by a handful of delicate swirls. He felt the strain in the bottom of his sockets as his gaze trailed upward, mechanically seeking out guardian plants. Fragile slips like most moths wore occupied their spine, in the same shade as the ink that scrolled across their legs, but that was it. No vines, no flowers, no low-hanging fruit. He finally raised his head, and the slight redirection carried him over a collar of tiger stripes and into a quartet of eyes, all of them resting on him expectantly.

It took him several seconds to replay their greeting in his mind, having forgotten the question as he catalogued the other's features. Who was he, not what was he, and so he went with the simplest answer. "Grigori," he said at length, voice already deepening past the point of youth. As an afterthought, he nudged the collection of seeds closer to his body, the bark scraping up against his chest possessively. Given the way that this foal was practically vibrating in place, it seemed better to play it safe than be sorry. No sense in spilling all his hard work across a less than ideal plot of ground.

"Is this your territory?" he asked after a pause, more out of politeness than anything else. If it was, he'd pick up his seedpods and move on without further questions. There was usually shade to be found elsewhere, after all, and Grigori knew how infuriating it could be to have foreign bodies trampling through his space uninvited. He would not choose to burden others in a similar vein if he could help it.  

[musicaloner7]

Lady_Ourania

Her own eyes gave a scan as well along the strangers figure too, noting a few key features they possessed; a horn like root that sprouted from their forehead, resembling a petrified worm, as well as a little... tree? settled comfortably on their rear. And in an obvious gesture, the pale foal leaned to the side for a better look at the flora that was hanging out behind the colt, very intrigued by it. Had it been placed there..? And if so, how was it staying on so well?

But questions would have to wait. Redirecting their gaze back onto the other foals placid features, lengthy tail twitching and twerking with great interest now. "Grigori." King repeated to make sure it was pronounced correctly, a slow nod of acceptance, and possibly approval?, given after a few seconds. "Cool name, Grigori. I'm King Prometheus." they announced with a hint of gusto, and plenty of pride.... very evident in the swelling of their chest, and higher lifted head. "But ya can call me King, or Pro. Which ever ya like." they smirked confidently.

Larger ears swiveled with curiosity as the colt made a motion of protection to something they seemed to have possession of. Eerie eyes unmoving from the other youth, King snapped their eyes down to see just what it was they were guarding, and didn't want to be seen. In an effort to perhaps seem less frightening, or threatening to the treasure, paws curled back, as legs began to fold, letting the fearless foal plop down into a laying position like their counterpart was. "Whatcha got there? Something special?"

Ah but the latter question made their words cut off instantly, the quartet of eyes snapping up together when it was posed. Blinking in surprise, a snicker, followed by light laughter followed, head shaking, "Nah, not at all. I don't have any territory." a small beat, and then a wickedly smug grin carved along those stark white features, "Yet." wings buzzed as they flitted to get comfortable and adjusted onto the sleek back, rubbing against each other to try and smooth out the ruffled fur for a more comfortable lay, "But even if it was, I wouldn't mind someone being on it. Just means they like it, which is a good thing, right?" they leaned their head in a gesture of inquiry, and assurance... as well as trying to get another little peek as to what was being kept from their many eyes.


 

[Lady_Ourania]

His scrutiny was returned by too many eyes, though the extra attentiveness hardly bothered the colt. The Multitude continued to observe in kind, its small, coppery leaves rustling amongst themselves. Besides, there was no harm in letting someone look, so long as they did not try to touch. The roots of his guardian tree resettled into their previous arrangement, ostensibly in agreement. He ticked an ear back, listening without expecting to hear anything. But the foal before him was all energy, demanding his attention with barely-restrained gestures of curiosity. Nothing outwardly invasive had taken place so far, but he chose not to let his guard down in case they changed tactics. These half-made, barren types could be persistent if they put their minds to it.

An exchange of names, and the stranger rolled his around on their tongue with obvious care. Grigori said nothing in the face of their praise: he had not, after all, chosen his own name. But they seemed gleeful enough in giving theirs that he felt compelled to dip his head in some show of acknowledgement. King Prometheus - an elaborate title to fill, but the foal did not appear to be deterred by such a task. If their self-congratulatory display was any indication, they seemed to savor the opportunity to rise to the occasion.

He noted as their claws retracted, having been aware of their proximity to his folded knees. A whuff of air and displaced dirt saw King dropping beside him, tail still weaving with silken intent. Their question made his mouth tilt slightly downward, not eager to disclose the purpose of his seedpods. At best, they would laugh at him, dismiss his work as pointless. Plants grew on their own, after all; what did his intervention prove? But worse was when they expected an invitation to his gardens, or extended one to themselves upon hearing of it.

Fortunately, the foal had moved on to another topic, and Grigori let it happen with a flicker of relief. The laughter, however, drew a heavy blink from him. Had he said something amusing? It was occasionally difficult for him to tell, especially among those of his own age group. They found very peculiar things entertaining. "Your family's territory, then," he amended, shrugging slightly at what he viewed as a technicality. Genesis and Gin had been somewhat nomadic in nature, but they had both cultivated private locations, those known to one another and otherwise. His siblings were content to dwell in those same, carved out places. He was not.

The explanation that followed confused him more than anything, lines drawn in the pale landscape between his brows. It was admirable, he supposed, to be willing to share territory with passersby. Certainly he hadn't expected such generosity from one devoid of plant-kin. But ultimately it was... too simple an idea. To start, it relied on the integrity of others in homes not their own, and if attempting to cultivate his gardens in peace had taught him anything, it was that clumsy, destructive behavior often outweighed courtesy. "Liking something doesn't mean treating it well," he said, making it a statement rather than a judgment. When he sensed at least one pair of eyes slanting toward his hidden cache, Grigori adjusted his position again, and the bark dug a red welt into his chest. "Sometimes you have to protect what's yours if you want to keep it."