A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF CREATION! Kin Name: Half Truth Drabble:One of the things that most amazed Half Truth about her son was that his every act was an act of creation. Her child, her wonderful, amazing, beautiful child, was never content to just sit there and watch things passively; he had to be involved. Changes was a builder; his name wasn’t just about him, but about his world. She remembered fondly the games they played when he was a child; even then he was so creative and witty. He could twist words just like she could- but where she’d been known to twist and manipulate language solely to her advantage, he was so kind with his words. He was a poet with an innocent heart; hers had been so wicked for so many years. But that had changed, hadn’t it? Certainly she could attribute this to Roses in Bloom, but she also had to attribute it to him as well. He’d changed her perhaps more than Roses had; she’d wanted to be better for Roses, but he was the catalyst, the engine of change. He’d forced her to grow up and rethink the person she was and the sort of person she wanted to be; she had been recreated and shaped by the twin forces of romance and motherhood. Though she’d done them out of the usual order and completely disregarding the usual way- but that was to be expected. Conventional wisdom was something she flew in the face of, and so to an extent did he. They’d created their little family; not by chance but by choice. Certainly fate had played a role; his parents, whatever their circumstances, had chosen to leave him in just the right place at just the right time; but they’d been drawn to each other, after all, and it was her words and their collective actions that had led the Mothers’ Club to deem them right for each other. And oh, how right they’d been. The things they built together were nothing short of miraculous. It was no easy task to carve a family out of two strangers- and it hadn’t been as simple as she had first assumed. He hadn’t warmed up to her right away; he’d been standoffish, shy, unresponsive to her ministrations. Afraid, but she couldn’t blame him, not one bit. He had, after all, been ripped away from his friends and the caretakers he knew, and placed in her care- but he’d been tractable and willing to build trust and honesty with her. They had created something marvelous, something splendid and shining and new- they’d created something together.
They’d created love. It wasn’t a love she had previously known, and it wasn’t really a love she knew she was capable of. Instead, it was a new love, a brazen love. A love that came with trust and security and safety; a feeling they’d built together. When she’d uprooted them to go live with Roses, he’d trusted her and created a family along the way as he went. He’d built a relationship with her children just as he’d carved out his own spot in the world. She couldn’t be prouder of the things he’d created, and she couldn’t wait to see what he’d do next.
Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2016 9:12 pm
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF MAGIC! Kin Name: Half Truth Drabble:There was magic in this world. Half Truth knew this was true; it was like saying that the sun set or the swamp was humid or that caimans had sharp teeth. It was an incontrovertible, irrefutable fact. She’d seen magic with her own eyes several times. The first was the obvious magic; she referred, of course, to the little weirding ways in which the Swamp themself influenced things. She’d seen stags and mares and had no doubts in their abilities. She saw how they used magic to change their forms and to convey their blessings; in many ways, she was jealous. They were certainly impressive, and she did wonder what it was like to really be in another body. What, for instance, was it like to fly on the wings of a crane? Or glide through the water in a caiman’s body? Was being a spider as alien as it seemed? What about a wasp? Who understood wasps? However, this was obvious magic. There were many other small, subtle magics in the swamp. There were those who made charms, potions, and other such portents; things which may or may not have worked, depending on who you asked. These were not the magics she was talking about. Those relied as much on you as it did on the caster; the power of positive persuasion and thought could convince a lovelorn kin they were a lothario, put the spring back in the step of an old buck, convince the most timid doe to burst out of her shell, a shy snail no more. That was a sort of magic, but not real magic. More like a cousin of sorts, tapping into one’s own inner energy reserves and creating some kind of strength where you previously had none. No, there was something much more potent at work; a magic spell that could practically break her. Half Truth was a strong doe. She was eminently proud of this fact. She loved the way her muscles strained beneath her sleek coat; she loved showing off and getting physical with her problems. She enjoyed the dynamics of movement and adored the shows of strength she found any excuse to put on. She was hale and hearty and had a physique anybody could admire- but one flash of that old black magic and she was in its spell, that old black magic that she wove so well. It was ice up and down her spine; that same old witchcraft when their eyes met.
She was thinking, of course, of Rose’s smile. She’d do anything to see it and she was powerless in its grasp. All the beautiful kimeti had to do was give a hint of that pearly grin and Half Truth was weak at the knees; to hear her laugh was destruction. At first she’d perhaps thought it was infatuation, and maybe it was- but the spell had yet to be broken and she was absolutely fine with that. As far as she was concerned, she never wanted the spell to end.
Scaramouche Fandango
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Ruriska
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Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2016 10:54 pm
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF MONSTER! Kin Name: Young Flesh Drabble:
All he wanted to do was help.
He hadn’t even realized he’d been following that scent until he came across her. She was a small doe, tears in the corners of her eyes and the gash on her leg impeding her ability to walk. Clearly in need and assistance from some kind passer-by.
He could be that somebody, he told himself. He so desperately wanted to help her but his voice was caught in his throat and as he stood frozen, he began to tremble. His gaxe fixed not on her face but on the dribble of blood down her leg.
It was all he could do slowly back away before she saw him there, one quivering step at a time until the smell of blood released its hold. Then he could run, racing blindly away, only knowing that it had be far.
He was on top of the foxbun before he’d even realised it, its life over in a frenzied ripping of flesh as hi instinct to kill overrode everything else. It was then that the buck started to cry; long, heaving sobs. All he’d ever wanted was to help others, to be kind and friends. But he was cursed instead, driven by a bloodlust he didn’t wish to sate.
Young Flesh stood over his kill and cried. He didn’t want to be a wolf but no matter what he did, he couldn’t change.
Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2016 11:13 pm
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF SMASH! Kin Name: Cold Commands and Iron Promise Drabble:
“We will smash the enemy. We shall destroy them in their own home. We will cut through them as if they were but frail blades of grass. They will be the last of their generation will we end them so thoroughly.”
Cold Commands didn’t add much inflection to her words. They chilling because they were so toneless, so cold. Her words were like the frozen breath of winter promising death. Terrifying because it was a erious intent to destroy without a hint of remorse.
Iron Promise side-eyed Cold Commands and said, “that’s all well and good but from what I’ve seen your fellow ‘warriors’ would rather play with flowers.”
“They need a bit of work,” Cold Commands conceded.
“I promised to fight for you not some pretty males playing at war games.”
“They’ll come around. They just need a push.”
“Then push them.” Iron Promise considered it extremely unfortunate that she’d been saved by a powerful, deadly doe that was somehow caught in the machinations of a useless tribe that was all bluster and no bite. “Or take over. One or the other.”
“I have considered it,” Cold Commands looked down at the mongoose she had been skinning before the topic had been raised. “I would be better suited. But…”
“But what?”
Cold Commands didn’t answer and Iron Promise realized it was because of the very same reason she was even here. They both fought and killed, but they did not betray.
“We will push them then,” she assured.
Cold Commands smiled and smashed the mongoose head with her hoof.
Ruriska
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Posted: Thu Feb 11, 2016 12:22 am
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF DRAGONS! Kin Name:this totoma (to be named appropriately afterwards < A <) Drabble: They were supposed to be sleeping.
And she certainly was doing that! She was curled up with her sister and her brother and - and, well, not her mother. (Or her adoptive mother. One Angry Shot was, despite her totoma heritage, not actually this little totoma's biological mother, but neither she nor her siblings remembered their birth mother, which was actually quite an acceptable state of affairs for them.) The three of them had ventured out here together to celebrate their physical maturity.
Alone. Well, not quite: they were never alone. But to this totoma, it still felt strange to be away from her mother. They were, perhaps, unsafe: even though they were strong, bulky totoma, who'd all grown sturdy horns and hard shells over their backs. Nothing in the swamp would dare strike them down.
But the night seemed so loud without their mother there to watch for irritants. This totoma would have hardly called herself spoiled: she was capable, and could hunt, and identify which bright berries were poisons and which were sweet, delightful treats (well - most of the time). Her mother had seen to that. But she had grown up in the care of her mother, and the Mother's Club, and there had always been real adults around to do the bulk of the work. Now the boar she and her siblings had hunted for dinner seemed like it'd attract all manner of vermin, or perhaps simply unsavory kin, in to steal someone else's hard work away. Every shadow seemed to stretch and loom, and the usually cheerful chirp of crickets seemed like the sinister soundtrack to someone else's hunt. And it seemed all too real that someone might genuinely want to steal away with her siblings' hard-won prize, and then they'd have to try and hunt again tomorrow, stomachs rumbly and discontent.
The moon was full, which was part of the problem. There was something enchanting about it, round and luminous...and its bright light, of course, deepened every shadow. The wing of some zikwa's bat, there. Its flapping was accompanied by the wickedly delighted crunch of someone eating. The totoma could not move.
Yes, she could admit it now: she was wide awake. The hard scratch of someone's claws on wood - a wolf? A hawk? No, perhaps - perhaps just a, a, a lynx. Were lynxes scavengers?
It seemed to the totoma that she knew very little about predators, even though she was very capable when it came to taking down prey. How did the eagle kill? Wasn't the snake a source of poison? And the lizard had its scales, and could walk, too. And that - that -
Carefully the totoma extracted herself from her siblings. That, with its beady eyes, was no ordinary bat. The moonbeams glinted off its scales (scales), colored like blood and the new moon. Why, it had four legs! And its teeth, when its lips pulled themselves back, were as sharp as any meat-eater's. Its wings flapped, once, and then twice, as though it might take off very soon. It was looking - it was looking at her siblings.
She did not have to think very hard. The wasp was small, but its sting was dangerous. Still: this thing was a small creature, and under her weight it buckled. The scales - well, they were no match for her hoof, and her armor. It was only seconds before the dragon was slain.
Now all the totoma could hear was the crickets, chirping. And she had...something else to add to their store of edible meat.
(Her siblings seemed impressed, but when they told the other kin that little black and red corpse, they were laughed off. It took an old doe to say: "It's certainly notable that you, Dragon-slayer, were so loyal to your siblings, and so concerned for their safety, that you slew even a tiny dragon so that they might sleep in peace.")
"And what noise do you make?" Fierce was young, and this creature was new to her even if it was not new to their world. Something to be poked and prodded into revealing its secrets to her, for she was a curious young thing, and often stuck her hooves and nose where they did not ever belong.
"Well..I command you to speak frog creature!" No frog was this, fins..flippers? A small wriggling tail, she began to stalk them for weeks. She watched and found that they were very much like kin. They dug in sand, made family's with whomever they chose. They laid eggs and buried them safely away, only to leave them alone to be preyed on by greater things...Things like her..Though she quickly learned that 'turtle' young were not a proper snack, and tasted nothing like good fresh fish eggs.
They tasted even less like frogs!
They did however, occasionally snap, hard beaks and harder shells, a truely powerful defensive enemy! Fierce envied them sometimes, their simple lives with their homes on their backs that they could sink into. Their sturdy disgusting tasting young who no predator should have been eating..Why the cranes bothered them so was a mystery to her. (WC:20cool
If ever a breeze passed that had more or less salt in it. If ever the thoughts wandered like something akin to waves. This place, surrounded by sand, life, and new beginnings; it would be the one to dwell by. What lies beneath its deepest depths unseen by all eyes except those that call such place their home.
What can be seen by them, except the foaming beautiful swirl of fresh waves. The crystal clear placidity of the surface that more often foretells a coming storm than calm waters. What lessons does the motherfather seek to teach when such a storm unleashes itself upon all near, and yet never those below. Slashing red across the sky, whipping up earth and rain like playthings caught in a turbulent breeze. Such terrible beautiful things come from the seas.
Such raw untapped power.
Fierce finds that she envies it, and wishes she too could be like the sea. To be one of those things deep below and have yet more questions answered about the world the great motherfather gave them.
She is however, not a sea faring creature, even if she is a good swimmer, she could not dive to save herself, and so she watches from the shore. Basks coarse sand and marvels at how it looks like the stars. Enjoys the warmth of the sun, and the contrasting coolness tide bringing the water just close enough to be comforting, rather than frightening. (WC:233)
It clucks and oh how she loves that sound! Ever since the festival she's been fascinated by these odd feeted, fluffy, colorful 'chickens'. More importantly, the delicious eggs they and the Rise and Shine Co' offer on market. They offered her a membership..to join the tribe..She had to politely refuse, she enjoys wandering to much to give it up. Even for the perfect meal. However she knows she would pay handsomely to get more of those eggs.
They could ask of her to go anywhere and fetch any item, and she would gladly have brought it in exchange for one of those sweet, plum, delicious...
Oh how she drools at the mere thought. However the birds were not on open offer, for members only, and the eggs were apparently coveted commodities.
She couldn't help but wonder if they ever ate their chickens? The eggs of course were easier to cook, and perfect even when raw. The chicken itself though. If ever a creature existed that embodied everything that a food should have been! The Chicken must have been that creature. It's very name screamed 'EAT ME EAT ME!'
The way the fat hens sat about all day getting fed, and the even fatter roosters..and oh to have one all to herself..or even ten! Just to try a bite..and then have eggs, endless eggs...
Yes, Chickens were the perfect creature.
(WC;235) (Total WC for Fierce = 600+ )
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF MAGIC! Kin Name:Dappled Despair Drabble:
There is no such thing as 'Magic'. Not a foals first breath, nor the first blossom of spring. Not the sun shining through the dimness of the blackest storm, nor the hope of love. The world is all of pain and loss, and magic has no place in it. Not in this swamp, or that desert, or those high snow capped mountains. No, no magic belongs here. Only stories.
All stories, because stories, dreams and the things which weave together all we know; all that we are, into something which makes sense even when it makes nothing of the kind. I suppose that sort of thing could be called, by those foolish enough to do so, 'magic' of a sorts.
Where 'magic' creates questions, illusions, odd curiosities. Stories, the tales and legends of old passed on from one to the next to a thousand new generations. The stories create the truth of the matter, the answers to all the questions. Stories pierce the veil of our existence and creation. A good story can make even the brightest star dark, or the blackest night hopeful.
I do not believe in magic. However, I do believe in stories..and the power they hold..that can sometimes seem 'magical'. (WC 206)
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF CREATION! Kin Name:Dappled Despair Drabble:
Dappled cannot help but chuckle at the thought of creation. The ways to tell this story are innumerable, as many start and end with the great Motherfather. Though there are those that go beyond, after all..what created the great motherfather, who in turn created all else?
There are the simpler stories, the ones of the small seed which became a small flower. A spiders first meal, a foals first breath. Even in death creation stories can occur, sometimes the best stories come from those enriched with sadness, entangled in loss and wretchedness.
Truly dappled believes that some of the greatest stories of creation, come out of the darkest of ideas.
For example. The humble water snake. Which is told, by some, to exist as a being punished by the great motherfather for its greed. Back before it crawled on its belly, the snake was a creature of great pride. Great length and stature. All revered the snake, for it was the tallest of the creatures. Taller even then the cranes. It had long limbs and a short body, and could reach high into the trees, or deep into the waters for its prey. It's mouth huge and unhinging, it could greedily gobble nearly anything that dared to cross it's path.
The snake became so prideful, so greedy, that it once tried to bite the very hand that had created it. The creature of great height and power, but little brains, sought to eat the first true children of the motherfather.
And so, in retribution, the mother father tore the creatures limbs from its body, and demanded that he crawled and begged for forgiveness, begged to be allowed to live! For he had disrespected life, thought himself greater than all; thought himself greater than her.
And so the snake did, it crawled and groveled and bled..and bled...bled all of it's size, power, and greed straight out of its large body. Motherfather was eventually appeased, and granted the creature and it's offspring life, but in smaller punished form. For she would never again trust the snake with limbs, she was not foolish enough to risk her children being bitten twice..
So the snakes to this day, crawl on their bellies..Forever paying penance to their ancestors folly. (WC:37cool (Total WC Dappled: 500+)
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF RUNNING! Kin Name: Dew Drop Sun Drabble:Running was the best activity on a chilly day, when the world was in limbo as one season rolled into another. In the face of breezes foreshadowing the icy chills to come, a stampede was the only response Dew felt comfortable with. It was not so much trying to outrun the impending weather as it was a challenge – a call to battle the elements with muscles that refused to be frozen, bones that refused to become brittle, an exercise that would make her flush and radiate heat to let the coming winter know that she would not be beaten back.
Then again, running was always her favorite pastime. She needed not the threat of winter to spur her hooves forward. Dew Drop Sun would run even as the sun radiated its own heat down upon her, fur glistening as her legs beat against hardened earth. She would weave her way amongst budding blossoms, through breakout fields where long grass would lick her ankles and underbelly. She would run against winds hurling water onto her fur, rain beating down in vast swaths across the swamp as she raced with it. She would dodge between fluttering leaves before the real chill set in, jumping to catch them mid-stride before they could join others on the littered swamp floor.
And when snow did come, she would plow her way through the growing piles of white, leaving a broken path for any willing to follow in her thundering footsteps as she continued to surge through the seasons.
Posted: Thu Feb 11, 2016 3:59 pm
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF MAGIC! Kin Name: Soothe Drabble: If she was honest, she didn't have time to notice time passing.
Here was the thing. Soothe was an animal doctor. She had experience setting bones and keeping a vigilant watch over one little squirrel or bird at a time. No, don't fidget, she'd murmur - you're going to break your little bone all over again! She knew that birds shouldn't consume mushrooms and sand dogs shouldn't gorge themselves on wild onion. But she'd never had to, well, preside over such a large menagerie before.
She blamed...she blamed Them. That was what she called them, in her head: the acha with the gold crown and the kiokote with the scarred leg and the tall, six-eyed and familiar legendary who'd been watching over them. Rationally she knew they didn't quite deserve the brunt of the blame. They had not been the kin to cause all these injuries on her new friends. But they'd certainly been...complicit, perhaps, was the word. No matter what they'd done to minimize the damage caused, their little activity had resulted in a dead swan already, and the swampy green caiman she'd been left with - well, it'd taken all of Soothe's effort, these past two months, really.
She'd never worked with a patient so disinclined to her. Caimans were certainly predators: their jaws were large and filled with jagged teeth. And this one did not like kimeti: that was not Soothe's fault, of course, but it was a bias she'd had to deal with. This caiman had been hurt, before, and while caiman generally didn't consume kimeti (they had quick, sharp hooves and were a bit on the intelligent side, for prey), this one had certainly seemed to want her critically injured at first. She'd had to make much use of her assistants - er, that was how she thought of them. Quick Feet the lemur and Bright Eyes the frog, who'd followed her home from that orange doe's company. Soothe knew - she knew, perhaps better than anyone, that animals couldn't talk and think like kin could. But they both seemed so understanding, especially in comparison to this caiman. Quick Feet was nimble and clever, and could hold the caiman in place. And Bright Eyes' color and noise was enough, strangely, to keep the caiman distracted from Soothe's presence enough for her to get to work. It was a bit like magic.
Still, she had to admit that its relatively pain-free healing had to be motivated by spite, at first. Especially since she hadn't been the best at hunting, when this caiman had first passed into her care. But despite her personal distaste for killing, she understood the need for a caiman to consume meats. So she'd learned to make kills as painlessly as possible, and clean them, so that her caiman could have the strength to heal. It was little sacrifice, and as much as she liked to see animals healthy, she was well aware of the necessity, even, for population control.
And - and that was strange, too. She'd thought of it as a caiman, at first. It was her patient. It didn't like her, but that didn't mean she didn't want it to heal, and then leave off to do caiman things. But gradually she'd learned to recognize its rasps and shrieks. This meant it was still hungry: that meant its foot was in pain. That sound meant it wanted to move. And after a few weeks...she'd learned to think of the caiman as hers.
That was the real magic, as far as she was concerned. Oh, yes, she'd seen magic happening before her eyes: she remembered the tall, strange black obelisk, and its otherworldly lights. She knew that dreams had some power untold. It was unbelievable. Inexplicable. But it happened.
But this was stranger, to her. It had just been a caiman, at first.
And now - now, it couldn't run and snap as quickly as it had before, she was fairly certain. But now it could walk on its own and catch some prey, and now...now, where it'd been snapping at her heels, before, it curled up near her and croaked contently when it saw her. Now, it was almost her friend, and it could walk when it'd been on the brink of death when she'd first pulled it away from Lily and Bloodsport and Last night.
And this - the resilience of life, the unpredictability of affection? That was magic.
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF TURTLE! Kin Name: Squirrel Hoard Drabble:
Squirrel Hoard's life was pretty good, all told. Some days were a blur of herbs and the visions they brought; these were usually pretty fun, but sometimes not. Some days were spent sober, watching over those deep in the dream; these weren't a lot of fun, unless someone started talking during their trip, which was usually hilarious, unless it was sad. Some days were spent gathering herbs for her stash, and those days? Those were a real crapshoot. Mostly, whether or not they were good days or not hinged entirely on one unpredictable factor, and this factor's name was Dream Blossom.
Today was not one of the good gathering days. It was pretty well into Winter by now, which meant it was only going to be mushrooms or nothing anyways, probably, and that was if she could find a good crop of the right ones. And it was looking like she wouldn't even have the chance to try today, because Dream Blossom had taken it in her tiny turtle head not to listen to a damn word she was saying.
"Blossom, come on," she whined, giving the turtle a push from behind. "We've got work to do! Up, girl!"
No good - the turtle made no effort to get to her feet, simply letting Squirrel push her across the grass.
Squirrel groaned and threw herself dramatically onto the grass by her unhelpful helper. "Ughhhh, Blossoooom," she groaned, "why do you have to be such a shiiiit."
Her only reaction was to turn around, look at the doe peevishly, and attempt to bite her nose. Squirrel rolled out of the way very quickly - she'd had this turtle's company long enough to know that she bit like she meant it. She also knew that once she was in a biting mood, the situation was beyond hope. With an irritated sigh, she hauled herself back onto her hooves - without Blossom to carry things, she couldn't bring anything back, but she could at least go out and find things to bring back when her turtle was in a more cooperative mood.
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF OCEAN! Kin Name: Traveling Cat Drabble:
When she was small, she loved to play in the gentle river that cut through her brother's territory, splashing and catching the tiny fish that braved the shallows - and releasing them again, to be caught another day. She ate her fill of the fruits, vegetables, and leafy greens in the area, and the meat her brother brought home from his hunts.
Once, she asked her brother, "Where does the river go?"
The first time she asked, he said, "It doesn't go anywhere, it's a river."
The twelfth time, he said, "Why don't you follow it and see?"
He didn't mean right then and there, it turned out - when she tried to go, he shepherded her carefully back home, nattering all the while that the caimans and crocodiles were dangerous and she could drown and she was just a foal and oh for pity's sake it was a joke please just sit down and I'll tell you another story, okay?
She let the issue lie that day, but she never forgot.
Her brother taught her how to hunt, eventually, and taught her how to find the plants that were good to eat. He taught her how to catch the larger fish in the deeper part of the river - these ones they beat on rocks and ate.
When she was a filly, almost an adult, she thought, she left in secret - there was no way her over-protective brother would let her go if she'd bothered to ask. She knew that very well by then. She knew everything he'd taught her very well by then. She walked along the soft bank at first, but that was a bit messy and left tracks besides, so she moved a little further onto dry ground.
She followed the river for days, hunting and gathering her meals and holing up in safe places to sleep. She met other kin along the way, and they would ask what a little filly like her was doing out on her own - and when she told them, they would laugh and wish her luck, though sometimes they'd frown and shake their heads.
The further along the river's course she traveled, the less and less often she met other kin - and the sparser the plants that she knew were edible grew. When she did run into other kin then, she asked them about the local flora, but it still took some trial and error to figure out which ones were truly safe. The river itself grew unsafe, as well - the less densely populated a place was by kin, it seemed, the more densely it was populated by caimans and crocodiles, and large fish with sharp teeth and the poor judgement to try attacking something with four legs and hooves. On the plus side, they were pretty tasty when you finally got through the skin.
Then, the river grew salty - and unsafe to drink, she discovered the hard way. Her progress downstream slowed considerably as she had to seek out new sources of drinkable water in order to move onward. For the first time, she gave serious thought to turning back - this sort of difficulty had been entirely unexpected. She'd gone farther than she'd thought she'd have to already, and she'd been gone so long... Her brother must be missing her, she thought. And, she realized that she missed him, too.
She pressed on, and on, and on. Eventually, the trees thinned, and the soil beneath her hooves changed, and she saw the ocean for the first time - that great salty pool where rivers go to die. The endless expanse of open air and water, the rushing and pounding surf, the cries of the sea birds - the sheer power of the place entranced her, and she stayed for days, capering in the waves, rolling in the sand, and catching strange new fish from the great waters.
But, eventually, it lost its shine. This place was rough to live in, sparse and dry... and empty, and lonely. It wasn't the place for her, she decided, and so she returned upstream. The kin she met along the way, first sparsely, and then more and more often, no longer called her a filly. When she finally made it back to her brother's territory, he hardly recognized her - and she him. He seemed to much smaller than she remembered!
She was content to stay for a while, telling her brother stories of her journey, but she eventually grew restless. The places she'd played as a filly no longer held any attraction to her - her favorite wonders no longer seemed so magical, from her new perspective. Some of the ocean's bigness seemed to have seeped into her during her stay - everything seemed so much smaller now. This place, it seemed, wasn't for her anymore, either.
One night, she stared somberly into the darkness, wondering what to do next - when it suddenly came to her, like a spark leaping from a fire into dry brush, and it caught in her mind just as fast. She laughed, drawing her brother's attention, and he asked her what she'd thought of.
"I have to wonder," she told him with a grin, "now that I've seen where the river goes... where does the river come from?"
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF CHICKEN! Kin Name: Predicament Drabble:
Chickens were strange birds. The hens were all... round, and broody, and they didn't really get up to much. They scratched around the place looking for bugs, mostly. Some of the other Rise & Shiners swore they had charming personalities and made great pets, but Predicament didn't see it. They were pretty territorial, too, and didn't like anyone getting near their nests. That was sort of problematic, because it restricted access to their key redeeming feature; they laid huge, delicious, fatty eggs. Like, all the time. Constantly, really. A couple of the kin they tolerated the most would go root through their nests on a daily basis, gently plucking out the round, little, golden treasures. Predicament may not have liked the chickens much, but stars above did he like to eat their eggs.
Which made it a real bother that the one he'd just been about to bite into was wobbling around in his mouth and making tapping sounds. He knew damned well what that meant - the roosters had been around again. (Roosters were even worse than hens - even ornerier, and with huge talons to back up their huge egos.)
He wavered for a bit, debating on cracking the egg open and eating the creature inside anyways - but it started tapping on the inside of its shell again, frantically, as if it could sense the imminent danger. With a defeated sigh, Predicament gently set the egg back down. He couldn't trust himself to crack the egg for the little thing - he might accidentally hurt it - so it'd have to fight its way out into the world same as anybody else.
When it did crack the shell, oh boy, was Predicament surprised. Baby birds were hideous! Is that what they looked like under all those feathers? He was so, so glad that kiokote foals weren't that ugly - his species might not have survived if they were. Wait, why was it walking towards him?
"Oh, looooook," someone nearby said, "it thinks you're its mama!"
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF MAGIC! Kin Name: Maple Milk Drabble:
Most kin believed that magic took the form of mystical energies subtly directed by Matope and her chosen group of blessed stags and mares, plus or minus the occasional stray backwater witch. Most kin didn't realize that most magic was a much more mundane sort of manipulation... Namely, the manipulation of other kin. Not to say that the other sort didn't exist at all - the stags and mares prancing about the swamps were evidence enough, to be sure - it was just exceedingly rare.
Take, for instance, your average token or charm witchcraft. That sort of magic was based entirely on suggestion - act certain enough when you give a kin a bauble, and they'll believe anything you tell them it can do - and that belief will drive the change they want to see in their life. Spoken charms and curses worked much the same way. For this reason, maintaining a certain image was very important for any serious practitioner of the mystic arts.
This, among many other reasons, was why Maple Milk had been so out of sorts lately - she had revealed several vulnerabilities somewhat publicly lately. Her reputation hinged on her being unflappable, invulnerable, and terrifying, and it was very difficult to be properly terrifying when one has accidentally made a habit of - of - cuddling with an exceptionally hairy kiokote at night in order to stay warm. She'd even told him honest facts about her past! Ugh, that hurt to admit even to herself. Revealing that very basic vulnerability to even one kin made her look - made her feel - very... normal. That, coupled with a few near-death experiences, and her first actual, honest-to-god portent being a warning about her not trusting others and letting them into her life... well. She was understandably shaken.
To try and compensate, she'd been even surlier and more reclusive than usual lately. She'd even refused a couple of good deals for her services, just to make it clear that she wouldn't help just anyone who came by with a fat turtle shell of food, even if it would save her from hunting and scavenging for a few days. She had to look strong in order to be strong!
But that didn't mean she didn't regret turning down an easy meal.
Sometimes a lot.
She was huddling in her cave, sulkily considering a few options for easy meals over the next few days, when she heard the telltale rustle and muffled cursing of someone working their way through her bramble patch. Not as much cursing as she'd usually expect, though... which meant a smaller kin, or possibly an armored one. An acha slipped through the last of the brambles and into sight in the center of her clearing - a little bit of both, then.
"Stop there," she growled, voice low and dripping with venom. The acha froze in mid-stride, staring desperately into the mouth of the cave, where maple's one eye glowed dimly.
"P-please, madam, I've heard that you can help in some situations where no other can. I have a great need -"
"Silence," she hissed, and the acha winced, his mouth snapping shut audible even from where she was.
It looked like she still had a little of the old magic after all.
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF CREATION! Kin Name: Motes-in-Moonlight Drabble:
The storyteller spring to his feet and paced before his audience, singing a tale in a modern variation of a traditional rhythm. "She bit it hard and she raised her head high, and she shook that beast until its head spun -
"nnno, that doesn't sound quite right," the storyteller sighed. Motes-in-Moonlight sank back down to the log he'd been resting on before leaping up with that outburst.
"It should be until its skull rattled," a small voice said from behind him, "or until its neck snapped."
Motes turned his head to see who was addressing him. Why, it was a young totoma - barely a foal! They were sitting on a mossy rock, watching him very seriously.
"And, young totoma," Motes asked, almost forgetting himself and asking the youth's name "- you've shaken many animals to death?"
"No," they replied, still very serious, "I prefer to choke. But that's what all our stories say."
'Our' obviously meaning Totoma. Motes hummed and nodded, matching the foal's seriousness with his own. "I could use a totoma's insight in the creation of this tale. Would you care to stay and advise me?"
The foal's eyes sparkled and their ears perked up. Hesitantly, but with obvious excitement, they said, "Yes - but only if there's lots of fighting."
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF MONSTER! Kin Name: Negative Drabble:
In the dream he and his brother shared, a white kimeti and a dark kimeti ran hoof to hoof on the edge of a pond, one an imperfect reflection of the other. The dark one was menacing, and always said no; he was the dark brother, and had an unsettling grin, and so his name was Negative The white buck was handsome, and always said yes; and his brother was white and sleek, and so his name was Positive.
His brother reminded him of this very often. He said it was a sign of what their relationship was meant to be; Positive in the lead, and Negative, a monstrous shadow, following him, and doing as he said. When he was very young, and when he was a little older, he believed it. But afterwards, and for a short time in between, he did not.
He'd run away during that in between time, when he was still a colt - run from his brother's oppression into a wide, bright world, where he would never have to live with his head bowed again. A place where he could escape the weight of his naming dream. He'd spent the first part of the day quite alone - they lived pretty far from other kin. At first, not being used to such open spaces, he clung to the edges of things, and to the shadows. As the day went on, however, he grew bolder, and ventured out into the middles of things, nosing around excitedly.
Towards the end of the day, he met his first kin that weren't his brother - a group of foals playing by a small pond. He hung back shyly, watching them at their games - but hearing their laughter and watching their fun, it wasn't long before he slipped out of the shadows, a little afraid and a lot excited, ready to join in. But the first one to see him gasped with horror - and so did the others - and then one of them screamed, and then all of them screamed, and ran, yelling, "A monster! A monster!"
Something bitter and cold crept into his gut as he watched them run away. Shakily, he stepped forward to the edge of the pond, and peered into the gently waving waters. The reflection that stared back at him was dark, and grinned menacingly, and wept.
"Ah, there you are," said a familiar voice from behind him - the only other voice he knew. He didn't have to turn around to know it was his brother, perfect, sleek, and white.
Positive slunk up behind him, listening to him bite down sobs. Quietly, he said, "Stop crying. You know they're right."
Negative took rapid, deep breaths, choking out his dashed dreams. "I hoped - I hoped - I might'a not been..."
Positive shook his head, feigning sympathy. "My poor, foolish brother," he sighed. "You know no kin could never love you. Come back home with me. Spare yourself the pain of your inevitable rejection."
And, filled with shame and sorrow, Negative turned and followed. He wouldn't escape again until he was an adult, and only then because another kin helped him.
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF RUNNING! Kin Name: Never Drabble:
Her time with Crossed Call had been... fun. If you didn't mind all the talking, he was lots of fun - though she did like him to put that mouth of his to better uses than words.
But, the past tense was very deliberate. It had been fun. Then, the inevitable consequences of such fun turned up, and things got a lot less fun. Things had gotten downright serious, in fact. Cross was very serious and dutiful when she broke the news to him - all, 'we'll do what's best for them,' and 'I'll get a blessing,' and 'they'll have a happy family.'
While he was gone, she did some thinking on the subject of children and families - mostly how much work went into both, and how little time and liberty would be left for her own pursuits. And... she had to admit, a little thought went into what the children would be like; if she did stay with him, and they raised the kids together, would the kids be happy? Would they be good?
She didn't know the answer to those questions. She didn't want to know, in case she didn't like the answers.
When Cross came back and suggested leaving her sacs with a tribe, she agreed that that would be the best choice for them. She could leave them with her cousin's tribe, the Vale; they'd have loads of family there, plenty of protection, lots of socialization, learn how to take care of themselves and of others.
Neither of them admitted it to each other, but both of them knew what they were doing. They'd run into trouble, and they were turning tail and running back out of it; and she, for one, would try to run without looking back.
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF BEAUTY! Kin Name: Maple Milk Drabble:
Once upon a time, there had been a fair and lovely young witch. She had friends, family, control, and power. Then, someone close to her had betrayed her trust. The rest of her friends turned against her, and through their ugly actions, she became ugly herself, on the outside and on the inside. She swore vengeance on all of her old friends, and she got it in the end... eventually, she'd avenged herself on them all.
All but the original betrayer.
Years had passed. She'd only grown uglier with age, and she'd done plenty more ugly things in the intervening years. She'd done a few things that weren't ugly, too, though. Notably, she'd done something she'd never thought to do - she'd had a clutch of children.
Of course, she hadn't seen them since she'd laid them - not of her own will, but at the behest of one of the Motherfather's blessed. They would be grown by now, she knew - and she was beginning to wonder what they were like. The buck she'd had them with had been quite handsome, and she herself had been beautiful, in her youth. They would, at least, be gorgeous, she was sure.
But would any of them know her?
Would any of them... like her?
Posted: Thu Feb 11, 2016 10:13 pm
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF MAGIC! Kin Name: Witch Hunt Drabble:
“So… you do magic right?” The bucks voice had dropped to a whisper. “Dark magic. You know, the stuff I can use to uh… get rid of a love rival. Just a small curse. I can pay you.”
It was a common misconception. Her name was Witch Hunt and she lived in a dark, dreary part of the Swamp populated only by spiders, caiman and herself (and her children but they didn’t really count).
The frail old doe hadn’t even bothered to get up. She was sitting in on her bed of reeds, staring at the buck who’d slunk his way to her little corner of death with a flat, dead-eyed stare.
“No. I don’t do magic.”
“Oh.” He looked disappointed.
“But I have what you need. Poison is better than any magic.”
The buck considered this. “But then I have to get him to eat it?”
“That isn’t my problem,” she croaked out the words, her throat dry. “If you pay enough, Bloodhound will simply break all his legs for you.”
Her son shifted when she said his name, a hulking menace standing just behind their visitor.
“I was reaaally hoping for some magic…”
Witch Hunt sneered. “Magic isn’t going to make him bleed out of his eyes. My poison will.”
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Posted: Fri Feb 12, 2016 1:57 am
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF MAGIC! Kin Name:Solemnly Swear Drabble: Solemnly Swear always believed there is more out there. It explains how a snake is his main companion, right? He probably could never say it was magic. More like something he did to attract the slithering creature to him. Now if a kin comes up and asked about the Legendary kin, those who are in awe of such ones. He might tell them a story of how they are picked. Only the strong survive, you know. The buck is known to pull of pranks on the unsuspecting, if they know which of the twin bucks they are talking to.
Over the course of the seasons, Solemn learned from those he ran across in his travels. Some he would never go back to, others he wondered how they came to be. As a colt he probably did think it was real, until he seen those older colts eating something. Afterwards they tried to tell him and his twin that they seen a ghost and could fly. "Like that ever happens. None of us fly, unless we jump." That was in the past though, but at times it still got to him. Over time he had wanted to deny that it even was possible, even after meeting others like Wings Sleep and that glowy acha. Or those, Solemn shudders at the thought, cave dwelling Zikwa. Now those he just can't explain to anyone. How can one with no eyes, see or tell where anything was? It baffled him to no ends.
He had tried to walk around the area he frequented the most with his eyes closed, at the brightest part of the day. The only thing that gave hims was a bad headache and a new idea for a game, if his companion would be up for it. Laughing to himself at that, he still muses about magic.
The more he thinks about it, the things that don't make sense to him, it seems that maybe it is real. Nothing is always that easy to explain, though for him it is always in the form of a joke or prank. Come to think of it, maybe the things he did towards others was actually magic?! He had never thought of it that way before, but some of the pranks did bring smiles and laughter to those around. Maybe not the kin it was played on, but still, over time they probably laughed. Unless their name was Nettle. Smiling at that memory, Solemnly Swear couldn't help but relive that time. That was a wonderful time, watching the others working together to help pull off the biggest prank of all. They had admired the enthusiasm as each one did something different. "If only we could do something like that again. Get the swamp together and pull the biggest prank on them all." He look at his rump, shifting to get the snake to look. "Even you would like it, Joke." That would be magic, for him. He figured it was different for others, maybe. (WC: 501)
Posted: Fri Feb 12, 2016 7:11 pm
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF TURTLES! Kin Name:Deep Water Fears Drabble: The sound of the ocean waves against the cliffs was a dull echo down the shoreline. The crash and hiss of saltwater spray a distant sound that only made the ocean appear more violent than it actually was. However in the dawn's gold and lavender light it was otherworldly. A time and place that was unique and almost surreal in how it was so unique. As he sat the at the water's edge, Deep Water Fears was quite sure that he was lucky to have been there. Aside from the sound of the distant crash of waves, the gentle lul of shifting sand was just behind him.
There in the sand small tiny being were climbing out of their shells and the sand. The warming sunlight perhaps drawing them out. Hundreds of baby sea turtles frantically made their way to the water, seeking their lives and futures. To Deep Water Fears, they were precious and rare, each one. Seagulls and crabs hung at the fringes, picking off those they could, yet the kimeti sat, ever watchful, fending off a few predators by presence alone. It was all he could do to help them, and to the buck, that was all he could do. This was nature's way after all.
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF OCEAN! Kin Name: Deep Water Fears Drabble: As the small turtles raced into the water, the buck waited until the majority had made their way into the salt waters of the deep before he stood. Sand against his scales, the dawn had given way to the day and the light left the blue ocean glittering as if the sky had cast crystals into the waves. Moving to the shoreline, Deep Water Fears looked out on the horizon, white blue and glowing with the faint hint of the sun itself. It was the perfect day to go diving, to see what bounty the oceans mights offer up.
A deep breath taken deep water fears plunged head first into the chilled water, his scales glittering against the light that played under the surface of the waves. Powerful motions of his tail sent the buck farther out and when he no longer could see the bottom, he dove, the light of day only sinking so far. It took a while for his eyes to adjust but once they did he was able to sea what exactly the sea had to offer. Shells and crabs and fish. Delicate bits of coral and the tangling vines of sea grass. The ocean had much to offer, it was only a matter of how much he'd take.
Posted: Fri Feb 12, 2016 7:42 pm
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF CHICKEN! Kin Name:Till the End of Time Drabble: The sound of hens picking and squawking was not a noise that the doe was fond of she decided. Just one day of being near a wild nest was enough. Now, she wasn't a particularly carnivorous kin, but by the light of the stars she was very much ready to become one if it would shut the infernal trap of that foul fowl. It was constantly making noise and what was worse is that it wasn't afraid of anything. Not her, not any possible predators, the bird was batty. Groaning as she got up, Till the end of time was so not wanting to face the day, not with that blighted bird just around her tiny and modest home.
So that hen wanted to stick around? Fine. She's show that foul just what happened when one distrupted Till the End of Time's beauty sleep! Going to her father he loaned her one of his traps that he used to hunt small game with. It wasn't hard to set up and when she was done, Till the End of Time felt pretty good about it. Trap set, she waited. And waited. And after a day she gave up. Yet the chicken wasn't heard the next day. It was only when Till the End of Time found the feathers and fox prints did she realize why.
A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OFBEAUTY! Kin Name: Free Bird Drabble: The glittering lights of the night sky never ceased to amaze and delight Free Bird. Stars might be their name, but to the buck, they were otherworldly and brilliant. Creations that served no greater purpose than to decorate the vast and ever pressing darkness that was the night sky. They were things of wonder and amazement. White dots. Blue, green, red, yellow- each color might be seen if you looked hard enough and more so, if one were to take the time to really appreciate them, you could see how they made patterns. Images in the inky black.
It was terrifying in the dark with all but the moon's light to see unless you were craft enough to create fire and take a torch with you. But for Free Bird, who lay under the open sky, he was fine with the cloudless night's grasp of what he could and could not see before him. The fallen trees nearby and the rocky outcrop gave him protection if he needed it- but really he was contented. Under the night sky he could see things so few could. The beauty of night. The majesty of the dark. It was alluring as it was unknown. Perhaps that was what gave it it's charm and beauty. The great unknown of night's light.
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All he wanted to do was help.
