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I've Made a Terrible Mistake; Tag: Sky - Kyrnan/Kyrsk
Topic Started: Nov 3 2014, 06:21 PM (276 Views)
Ferret
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Weyrling
Evening's velvet cloak spread over the Hold, bringing with it the familiar Autumn chill (which was generally the exact opposite of what cloaks were meant to achieve; clearly, Evening didn't have very good fashion sense). It was a welcome break from Rukbat's harsh heat, both for handler and wher, and Oren wasn't going to waste a moment of it. Working by the pale moonlight was hard, but it was nothing compared to the mine's darkness, especially here in the open bit of the Hold. There were always plenty of glowbaskets around here and, more importantly, space. Ideas burbled in the man's mind, each one wrestling for control of his hands until one, eventually, won out. He wasn't sure what he was doing but he was certain it would be... well... a thing. Silence pervaded the Hold, except for the occasional whuffle from his wher.

What do? Want see! The wher crackled to himself as he attempted to shove his nose into Oren's hands, jealous of whatever was receiving his handler's attention. And the thing about being a large superpredator was that he was very used to receiving one hundred percent of everyone's attention, especially his handler's.

“Push off, you'll see in a moment.” He gently shoved at the wher's nose, an act that accomplished exactly nothing.

Want seeeeee! Orensk punctuated the mental request with a long, low whine of a sound, like a very large kettle. He could smell what was in his handler's hands, but... it didn't seem right. It smelled of wood, sap, and old blood. Of fabric and swatches. All in all, it was a very curious little thing...

“Rnk!” he honked in surprise as it made a noise.

Wheee-eeeek! went the thing as Oren squeezed it. The theory was simple: a reed carefully stuck in the mouth of an old bladder, sealed with wax. When compressed, the air would vibrate the reed and... well... it made a sound. Oren winced at it; he hadn't calculated on it being quite so... enthusiastic... stuffed in a mound of fabric, it was slightly muffled, but it was still a loud and piercing sort of squeak.

Orensk's delight rippled through the bond. Want thing! Want! he bounced up and down, his front legs leaving the ground as much as he could until Oren tossed the roughly ball-shaped item away. Orensk was on it immediately, making it squeak and squawk like a wounded bird.

The evening wasn't quite so silent anymore.
|X| Oren of Brown Orensk (#684045) Green Trouble
|X| T'vet of Beryllium Belrodoth (BB6622) and Green firelizard Miss Bossybritches
|X| Zoriah - Candidate
|X| N'vor of Green Sarath #2D5B1E
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Skyrunner
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Lovable Creampuff
Dearly Departed
The night's calm was pierced violently. For one hatchling, the sound immediately drew his attention away from his meal. Suddenly the blood porridge wasn't so interesting. He lifted his head, turned to look over his shoulder, and then looked back to his bonded, who had also lifted his head to look.

"What the..." Tyrnan muttered, ceasing his work. The knife was sharp anyway, knapped to a fine edge that would hold for a few cuts through meat but no longer. He'd love to own a metal knife, but flint was all he could afford. The tool was vital to his life, especially now that he was a Handler, so something that dulled so quickly and broke so easily was a liability, to say the least. Not that his attention remained on his knife. Instead, he slipped it into its sheath and tucked it into his jacket for later.

Tyrsk's hear too? Sound loud, close? the pudgy blood hatchling licked his maw free of his meal, but didn't get all of it. Some of the globs dribbled down his chin and back into the bucket to be eaten twice. Or three times. Possibly as many as six. The hatchling wasn't exactly coordinated, nor did he have teeth to grind and tear meat. Teething though...that was a constant battle. Tyrsk want find. So the hatchling tried rolling to his feet. Rolling being the operative word. He ended up on his back, legs flailing in the air as he whined. No! Tyrsk not work! he cried, eyes whirling yellow as he wiggled back and forth. After a moment and before Tyrnan could come right his own wher, Tyrsk stilled and huffed. Tyrsk broke. Broke broke broke.

"Yer not broke," Tyrnan groaned and pushed himself up. Time to fix his bloody hatchling. Kneeling beside the chubby creature, Tyrnan shoved Tyrsk over and onto his belly. The blood wiggled with delight, toes tapping as he pushed himself to his feet. Tyrsk go see!

And off the hatchling went!

"Bloody shells," Tyrnan muttered in addition to a few less savory curses and he stumbled up and caught up to Tyrsk. The hatchling had already found the source of the sound and stood with a slightly waving tail, watching the big adult brown play with something that made noise. Without asking his bonded for permission, Tyrsk bounded up to the brown and warbled.

What that? What that?] he asked curiously, nosing under the brown's muzzle and paw, trying to see what he had that was so interesting.

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Ferret
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Weyrling

“Orens---” Oren tried to walk around the massive wher, attempting to get to the toy.

Whee-eeeek! Orensk blocked him off with his considerable bulk.

“Or---” Maaaybe if he went the other way? The handler attempted this.

Whee-eeeek! Nope, blocked off again.

“O---”

Whee-eeeek-eeek-eeeek-eeek! This time, the squeaking was more like victory cry. The toy was Orensk's!

At this point, Oren gave up his losing fight against the narrative and his headache. He could only hope that the toy wore out quickly. Come on, how sturdy could the thing really be in the mouth of an adult wher? He put a hand to his forehead and just hoped that it wouldn't both--- oh shards and shells. Another wher----a baby----barreled into the scene and into Orensk, all curiosity and playfulness. So much for not bothering anyone else...

Thankfully for the wherling, Orensk was more than happy to share his new treasure (just not with Oren). Pulling his paws away, he displayed the lump of mottled fabric and, by now, wher spit. Is toy! he warbled. To demonstrate, he squished his nose against the lump. It whee-eeked once more, much to the adult wher's delight. Nudging it with his nose, he rolled it over to the pudgy Blood baby. Squeak toy fun!

“Um. Sorry... I hope I didn't wake you or anything,” Oren started to apologize immediately to the other man, supposedly the blood's handler. “I'm Oren. This is Orensk. Don't worry, he's friendly. He won't hurt your wher for being curious.”
|X| Oren of Brown Orensk (#684045) Green Trouble
|X| T'vet of Beryllium Belrodoth (BB6622) and Green firelizard Miss Bossybritches
|X| Zoriah - Candidate
|X| N'vor of Green Sarath #2D5B1E
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Skyrunner
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Lovable Creampuff
Dearly Departed
Tiny fat Tyrsk never considered that his curiosity would be a bad thing or that the bigger wher wouldn't want him nearby. Kind-hearted to a fault, the blood would never think of violence first. It was only natural for another wher to be nice! So Tyrsk was nice right back! And the big brown was nice! Letting him see what he was playing with. It made such funny noises.

The lump was an immediate curiosity. Ooooooh, he gargled, giving a bleet at the lumpy ball. Maybe it'd answer him! Orensk touched it and it made noise. Oh, so it would answer Orensk. Tyrsk bowed his front legs, nearly laying his head on the ground to examine the fun thing while his tail waived slowly in the air. Every time Orensk pushed it, the thing squawked or squeaked, and Tyrsk bounced back at one particularly loud one. Lifting a paw, Tyrsk batted the ball.

It squeaked! Squeaky!

"Oh my bloody shards," Tyrnan muttered, joining the other handler and watching the two. "No, ya didn't wake us. I was just feedin' the bugger when he heard that--"

Squeak!

Tyrnan sighed and rubbed the back of his head. Alrighty then. He turned back to Oren. "The name's Tyrnan, and that's Tyrsk. Sorry 'bout his curiosity. He hasn't figured out other whers might not take kindly to him."

Tyrsk rolled the ball back and forth between his paws. Though "roll" was putting it nicely. When it stopped moving, Tyrsk bounced on it. Tiring of that, he grabbed the ball, bit it hard--Squeak!--and then tossed it into the air at his new best friend Orensk. Toy sound Tyrsk's when sleep, he chortled and wagged his tail at Orensk, waiting for the brown to keep playing.

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