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 Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2007 12:21 pm
 It was late afternoon, and it was raining. The front porch of a little house in the suburbs of Metropolis was currently playing host to Atticus - the friendly human within had been all too keen to spread out a book for him, and since it was a fairly hefty tome he didn't have to worry about it closing on him. By the gentle, yellowish lamp on the wall by the front door, he studied Twelfth Night with interest and the odd chuckle. Shakespeare, he decided, was a fellow he could have liked very well indeed.
A shame these human playwrights never seemed to write parts for foxes.
He remembered the title of one slim volume on the shelf in the kind human's library, though - Fantastic Mr Fox - and was all too keen to read it, despite suspecting that it was intended for human kits. There had been another one, too, with a picture of a mundane fox on it among other animals, and one with a fox somehow holding an axe. Perhaps he would have to get hold of those at some stage.
With a careful swish of his paw, he turned the page and - suddenly smiling - murmured the Fool's next lines under his breath.
"God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two pence that you are no fool..."
Perhaps there would be parts for foxes after all.
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2007 12:46 pm
The rain pitter-pattered on Spur's back as she carefully walked along the sidewalk, careful to not step in any of the puddles. Bad enough it had to be raining, thus soaking her to the core. Those puddles could have anything inside there, that she would prefer not to have in between her paw pads.
The glow of the golden lanturn seemed to beckon the Modifox forth, as a shelter out of the freezing droplets. Plus the added factor that an exotic-looking Modifox was nested on the porch, indicating that if it was safe enough for him to be there, it would be safe enough for Spur.
She strolled over to the edge of the porch, now noticing that he was reading a rather thick book. Spur narrowed her eyes enough to make out the title, Twelfth Night. She has heard of those words before, though she didn't know anything else about it. Without any warning at all, Spur heaved herself up to the rail of the porch, and seated herself.
The words of the play made as much sense to her as Greek, and she frowned to herself, being unable to understand the story. She shouldn't be upset, as she only came into this world recently, and could barely understand the complex language of humans.
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2007 2:32 pm
The sound of paws landing on the rail caught his attention, and he finished the line he was reading before looking up. A female fox was sitting there, her patterns almost star-like, looking down at the book in what was probably puzzlement. Being one of a curious sort, Atticus looked back. If he had been human, he would probably have been a handsome, middle-aged fellow sitting behind an antique desk, regarding her over the top of a pair of half-moon spectacles.
"Good afternoon," he said cordially. "I know I'm a little out of my territory proper, but nonetheless I welcome you to the lands of the Sanguine Syndicate. May I be of any assistance to you?"
Privately he hoped that she would not wish him to go out into the rain, but nonetheless he suspected he would if he were asked to do so. Terminally helpful, Hylden had called it, in an unusual display of eloquence. Strange how she seemed to say more to him than to anyone else. Not that he minded, of course - assisting her in her study of language was fascinating work, and if you got past the prickles she was a good vixen. It was that If that got most people, he thought with an inward smile.
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2007 2:48 pm
"The what?" Spur was surprised at the outburst of complex words, and prehaps also at how this Modifox was speaking in a polite manner. This was the first time she had met such a fox, and she wasn't prepared to speak to such a kind.
Then again, when did she had to prepare about anything? Spur did everything on the fly, so it was unusual of her to be thinking likewise.
Starting again, she tried to pronounce the name of the tribe she was in the lands in. "The San-gu-ine Syn-di-cate? I didn't know there was a tribe here. It different from the other tribes I've heard of. Then again, all tribes are different. So I really shouldn't say such a thing."
There it is again. Spur's big mouth got loose and she ended up saying more than that was nessecary. She mentally slapped herself and examined the situation more.
"I'm just here to get out of the rain." She answered. "I hope you don't mind, since I think tribes are very territorial. I'll be on my way when it stops." Though when Spur glanced up to the sky, the clouds showed no sign of letting up. They were the same dark grey dullness when she first set foot outside.
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Posted: Fri May 04, 2007 5:03 pm
"No, it's quite all right," Atticus assured the newcomer with a smile. "Stay as long as you need to - if you've never heard of us you're hardly an enemy, and as I say this isn't technically part of our patch. The human in the house is friendly to us, though. I get a lot of my books here, not to mention a lot of my meals."
The shaman glanced fondly towards the door, recalling gentle hands and a warm towel from when he had arrived wet. He envied the kindly two-legged owner of the house for keeping such a library, and for owning the little contraption that seemed to allow it to read. He could do with one of those, he thought, if he could get it to sit on his nose.
"And I suppose we are different, aren't we? We're all artists in a way, or scholars of art - I read and tell stories, and I do the healing where I can, but we've all sorts of folk. We take...oh...painters, dancers, poets...anything of that sort. And Sonia, she's the Boss, she sings sometimes. She has a lovely voice."
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2007 9:53 am
"Artists..." Spur mumbled to herself quietly. The Modifox did look like the artistic sort, with all of those fancy swirls covering his body. Examining him closer, she found a tattoo of a red-bladed sword on his front leg, as with an identical sword hanging from his ear.
"I'm assuming that that sword.... That's the tribe symbol?" She admitted that it had an 'artistic' flair to it, but the image of it still unsettles her. Spur's remains of her memories told off too many swords reddened with blood. She did not wish to meet with a tribe that held a symbol of violence and war in high regards.
Trying to forget her current thoughts, Spur shook her head wildly and shifted her weight on the porch rail, staring at the book he was reading rather than the sword.
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2007 2:02 pm
Atticus nodded slowly. "Yes. The Sanguine Blade - the red sword that represents the Syndicate's power. ...Seems needlessly militaristic for a gathering of artists, doesn't it?" He chuckled. "Well, who are we to question our dreams? Mother saw it in her sleep, and it's been inspiring her to new heights of creation ever since. She says...that it cuts through the uncertainty and banishes all fears, and that for as long as she carries it in her heart she never need wish for hands to wield it. After all, any fool human can pick up a sword and kill something with it. It takes a special kind of creature to take up that same sword and not kill something with it."
He spotted the vixen looking at the book, and moved from the pages so that she could see it more clearly. "Shakespeare," he explained. "The complete works. It's the only version that stays open, given it's so big and old and well-loved. Spine's broken in six or seven places. Do you read, Miss..."
It was at that point that he realised he hadn't even asked for her name. Or given his, for that matter. "...dear grief, my manners. Atticus, at your service. What may I call you?"
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2007 3:32 pm
"Spur... my name's Spur... not like a thing that riders wear to jab their horses with..." She answered, her muscles not being as tense anymore. She was relieved that the blade did not mean anything of destruction and blood. More of a reason you can think deeply into, and get lost with all the would be and could be answers.
But the swords humans crafted would be hard for a fox to pick up. Much less be able to control it efficiently enough to kill someone. Still, Spur threw that thought out of her mind's window.
Focusing on the words of Shakespeare's work, she squinted her eyes hard, but could not understand anything of it. Besides the sparse words she could pick out on the page, Spur was what humans call 'illiterate'.
"Erm... I think I can read..." She said, her voice quaking. It quaked because she feared that not being able to read would diminish Atticus's respect of her. Spur rather would not tell him that she couldn't read, especially when he seemed like he held reading in high regards.
While thinking all that, she bit her tongue unconsciously, a habit she had trouble controlling.
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Posted: Sat May 12, 2007 5:30 am
She could read? What a find! "Truly?" Atticus smiled broadly. "It's a rare skill in these parts. I shouldn't think the less of any fox who couldn't, though I'm always glad to try to teach it."
Looking down at the page, he fixed upon a line. "What's a drunken man like, fool? Like a drowned man, a fool and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him. ...Hah. I've never understood the human need to fill oneself with poison for the brain. Why do it? Why stumble around like an idiot and make yourself ill?"
And now he was rambling. Or was this smalltalk? He'd never quite managed to grasp the difference. At least Spur didn't seem to be laughing at him yet. He'd always been terrible with vixens - they thought him either too high and mighty, or too awkward and out of touch. Hylden gave him endless trouble, the she-devil, though she was a fine one to talk of being out of touch.
...Come to think of it, where were the Sanguinites now? Did they have need of him? He probably ought to set off soon, rain or no rain.
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Posted: Sat May 12, 2007 8:51 am
Spur bit her tongue harder, now wishing that she didn't tell that lie. He and maybe other Modifoxes of the Sanguine Syndicate will be expecting her to read when she couldn't. Not very well anyways. Prehaps she should tell the truth, or teach herself to read. Spur didn't know what to do...
Her ears only caught part of what Atticus said, and didn't understand what he was babbling about. Poison? It seemed very stupid to poison oneself, she could agree with that. But what kind of poison was mentioned? She shrugged slightly and tried to talk about it.
"They say that poisons can be medicines, and medicines can be poisons. It all depends on the amount taken. So prehaps the poison is a medicine for humans, until they drink too much. That's why they take it...?"
She learned that from her owner's read-out-loud of a book. Spur didn't understand the story and plotline of that book, but the bit about poison interested her...
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Posted: Sat May 12, 2007 3:23 pm
Atticus nodded slowly, smiling. The vixen showed a degree of wisdom already, though she was incredibly nervous in his presence. "Yes, I think I've heard the like. Drowning one's sorrows, trying to forget - a medicine for a broken heart, perhaps, though I myself would prefer to forego such measures. Come, come here and look. These are old words, not like the ones I suspect you're used to reading. Perhaps I can explain them to you."
He hoped that she wasn't frightened of him personally. That could be difficult, particularly as he was essentially representing his tribe. What reason was there for that, though? He wasn't a large fox, and nor was he severe - he was only bright, and surely that alone was nothing to fear.
"Don't fear me, Spur, please, I mean you no harm. You have my word as a Sanguinite, and I assure you we don't give such promises lightly."
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Posted: Sat May 12, 2007 3:52 pm
Atticus's first words speaking of the poison more was still confusing to Spur, but she assumed that the topic was dropped when he continued to speak.
She bowed her head and curled herself up as best she can while still sitting. He respected Spur to some degree. She wondered if that was an accomplishment of sorts, and whether revealing the truth about her illiteracy would shatter it.
Well, he's going to find out anyways. The real question was whether it was better to tell the truth now, or wait until it was revealed, prehaps in front of the whole Syndicate. Her body rocked back and forth while her mind debated.
"I lied." Spur blurted out, trying to get it out before she could take the words back. And once she said them, her mouth continued spilling out the truth.
"I can't read, and I don't think I can even understand what you're talking about most of the time. I'm sorry about lying. I thought maybe... if I couldn't read, you won't treat me as well. But after what you said, about reading being a rare skill... I truely am sorry..."
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Posted: Sat May 12, 2007 4:23 pm
The dark-furred scholar remained silent for some moments, shocked by the words that reached his ears. She'd lied? He'd made her feel that she...needed to lie?
"...I can't tell you how sorry I am, Spur," he said faintly, looking away. His smile had fled. "I never meant to let you feel that...I never wanted to give the impression of...I didn't want you to think I'd hate you if you couldn't read. Or that I'd think you were stupid. I would never think, feel or say such a thing, and I feel dreadful for letting you believe it of me. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault...I...I won't trouble you further. I'll go. I'm sorry."
Slowly, on shaking limbs, he rose. One flip of his paw closed the heavy book, and he left it lying on the porch as he stepped out into the rain. Almost at once his fur was plastered to his body, making him look even smaller than usual. His ears drooping, he risked a look back at Spur - he was almost glad of the rain, for it could conceal the depth of his distress.
"Whatever must you think of me?"
And it wasn't the Syndicate's reputation he feared for, nor even his own in a wider sense. It was just this vixen, and how she must see him now.
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Posted: Sat May 12, 2007 4:38 pm
Spur was shocked at Atticus's reponse. It was not like anything she expected. She was thinking that he would be mad at her, since she felt that lying about this was a big deal. Instead, he retained the polite personality he had when he first met her. She did not know how to answer his question now.
Spur's mouth dangled open, but she didn't make a sound. She knew that her answer could result in the augmentation or destruction of what little relationship her and Atticus had.
"No... I... I was wrong. I still should be the one saying sorry. When I saw you reading and talking about reading, I thought you held reading in high regards. That foxes that couldn't read weren't as better. I was sorely wrong about that. I judged you too quickly. You're too polite and thoughtful to think that way. That's what I think of you... And to be honest, your attitude towards me was a refreshing change."
She stopped to take a breath, not believing how much she said. But Spur had one question she wanted to ask before Atticus left, if he was going to leave.
"How many of the Sanguinites can read? I'm just curious."
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Posted: Sun May 13, 2007 10:28 am
She...blamed herself?
Atticus began laughing softly, and mostly at himself. He'd run out into the rain for this? And now here he was (thunder rolled in the background), wet through, looking like a complete fool -
"Only one, Spur," he said, approaching the porch. "I am the only one. I do the reading for the Syndicate, and shall continue to do so until I can teach some of the others."
He remembered how Sonia had first challenged him as an artist, inspiring him to create the test of the Devil's Advocate - you are a scholar, she had said, but are you an artist? One reading from this very book, learned by heart, was enough to convince her that he was. Sometimes all an actor requires is his voice.
Standing on the steps, he looked sheepishly up at the vixen standing there. "And now that I've finished my theatrics, and I'm suitably convinced that you don't despise me...would you be awfully cross if I asked to come back into the shelter? I must go and find my comrades soon, but the longer I can stay warm and dry the better."
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