i need another story something to get off my chest
my life is kinda boringneed something that i can confess
Yet again Skoll found himself wandering away from his caregivers and exercising his growing white-ankled legs. He was still clumsy and often tripped over his too-large paws, but the puppy was not disheartened by any of this. After all, there was plenty of snow to play in.
Giggling, the golden prince would leap in piles of the stuff and roll around, purposefully slipping through the tall grasses and shrubs with a wriggling body to dislodge as much of the cold white stuff as he could. He was completely covered from head to toe in frost, large clumps sticking to his growing fur until he managed to pause long enough to shake it off. He bumbled across the grasslands and the softly rolling hills at a decently quick pace, full of the energy that always seemed to appear in bursts to the youth.
At one point, he startled a vole that had hidden in the grass, quickly chasing it before it darted out of sight again near the crest of a hill. Gasping and pressing onward, he made it to the top and looked around in amazement. He could almost see the whole of Cour des Miracles territory from here! Howling and barking in his high child’s voice, he reared up on his hind limbs with forepaws batting at the air, proclaiming this mountain to be his—
A strong wind aimed at the golden source of noise, blasting him with a snowy gust and knocking him off balance. He yelped and tried to swivel as gravity claimed him, but soon he was on the ground—and soon he began to roll down the hill, faster and faster, nothing to stop his descent. He scrabbled at the snow and tried to clamp his teeth around a plant but kept rolling head over paws, until at last he came to a stop at the base.
“Ufff!” Skoll sneezed between his paws then lifted his head, giving his sore body a shake. Nothing seemed to be really hurt, but he was dizzy. He stepped forward, one paw crossing over the other and causing him to trip and bruise his chin, which had luckily healed after its pavement-scrape in Lunenburg. Nonetheless, the jarring pain made him whine.
Once he got up again, however, he realized that the base of the hill was extremely close to the borders—and that he might even be across them; he wouldn’t have noticed. Eyes widening, he glanced over his shoulder and wandered in a tight little circle.
“Gotta fin’ big hill,” Skoll mumbled to himself, before looking around and flattening his ears. “Okay, all hills big.” He plopped his butt in the snow and gave his head another shake; the ozone-like tang of the snow froze out any other scents he could pick up from the suddenly still air. Was he really lost all of ten yards from the boundary?
If Frodo wasn't nice, Skoll would be stuffed into a sack and kidnapped. For all eternity. C: Haven't actually read this through, am going now, but I might edit it in the morning.<3 wc; 658 wc; 678
The young man was on his way back from Halifax. He rode astride a stern looking steed, the breath of both horse and rider coming out in short and raspy intervals. Both were healthy, at least, they weren’t sick, but it was cold and automatically their hearts were speeding up to keep up with the weather. Frodo’s own chest felt like it had a thrumming butterfly in it, the rate at which it was beating. His lungs were moving at a much faster scale than his horse’s, because apart from the cold he had another reason to be on edge. He’d just been beaten up. Badly. A couple of weeks ago, he’d arrived at ‘Souls half starved and dehydrated, all together fatigued, but the pain inside him now was different to how it had been then. The wolfman was sore all over; covered in scratches and bruises and numerous bandages that couldn’t keep everything in place. A friend of his had helped him heal over for the most part, however it would take a long time for him to recover. Both mentally and physically. His heart flutters had been somewhat tamed earlier that day, for he’d had a little lesson on self defence from his friend after the attack, but still his quivers hadn’t fully subsided.
Having been attacked on the borders of Inferni, the fact he smelt that he was in the borders of yet another pack now made him very wary indeed. It was in his right mind to carry on at a brisk speed, and collapse in his little hut at AniWaya. However, even the most important of matters couldn’t sway his mind when it came to another in need. As soon as he saw something golden-blonde tumble down from a hill, down from the pack and out into the out skirting borders, Frodo squeezed his calves around his horse straight away. The short male set off at a canter towards the source, before vaulting off his bare horse in a swift movements involving a flick of his wrists. Frodo had around him his cloak, as per usual, and so it hid most of his body, and therefore most of his wounds. There was a bandage round his muzzle, but not enough to scare off the little pup. He still looked friendly, and welcoming, his eyes having the right mixture of concern and curiosity weaved into their depths.
With as much speed as he could, Frodo jogged up to the lost looking pup, who was covered in snow and looked beyond lost.
If my peepers aint deceivin’ me, my old china, you’re far from home, young ‘un. he chuckled heartily, leaning over the pup so the chain around his neck hung down, the ring heavy as it swung from side to side. He crouched a tad, so he was more of eye level with the pup. You be glad I got ter you first, young man. There’s ghouls roun’ these parts, they likin’ their tea parties, and wish upon a star, yer do not want to stay fer dinner. he grinned a little, reaching out a leathery palm to ruffle the child’s head before stooping lower, sitting cross legged, face-to-face with the pup. Wooooowzers! he said, giving an exaggerated stare at the boy. An’ I thought I were small! Jaayzus, you’re a right tidler. Caesar and his roman’s will be proud. he growled under his breath, mocking the pup in the gentlest of ways. Of course, Skoll looked just like a normal sized puppy, Frodo was only playing. There’d been pups at his home, one’s he could play with all day. And little one’s on the ship he’d worked on, too. He loved talking with pups, because the pups had such a strong imagination. They were so innocent, and nothing was wrong in a pup’s life.
i need another story something to get off my chest
my life is kinda boringneed something that i can confess
The sound of hoof-beats startled the child, though Skoll was unafraid. He often had to be chased away from the stables; his caretakers feared that he would spook the horses or otherwise be hurt by them. But he loved horses from afar, and his ears perked up when he saw the pale stallion running toward him. There was a darker creature on its back, a wolf who soon leaped off with such skill that the boy’s tail started to wagging.
“Bonjour!” the prince yapped once the young man jogged toward him. The French greeting was one of the few words he still retained from his mother’s language; the amount of English spoken by others in the pack had altered his speech, though he still slipped in the odd foreign word here and there. Still unafraid of the stranger, who greeted him with a friendly laugh, he stood and pricked his light ginger ears forward to listen.
“Not too far,” Skoll insisted quickly, squinting at the prospect of disobeying and running away from home. “Court just over—uhhh.” He looked around at the hills again and frowned. “Not far,” he repeated.
The stranger lowered himself more and more to get closer to his eye level, and Skoll’s green eyes fixed on the ring swinging from the neck-chain. Anything shiny or new grabbed his attention immediately as something worth checking out, especially if he could gift it to his mother or hide it away for himself.
The boy giggled at the dark wolf’s funny way of talking, his toothy white grin only broadening when a hand reached out to ruffle his head. Tongue lolling, he chattered away at the other. “My friend Caspa half ghost!” he said. “She likes parties!” His tail wagged behind him—at least until he was called small. He narrowed his eyes once more.
“I son of King!” Skoll barked in as authoritative a voice as he could muster. “Not small! Prince Skoll Haskel gun’ be big—bigger than you!” This last was accompanied by the stomp of a paw, and he sauntered up to the sitting grownup, jabbing at him with his nose before sitting down almost in his lap. “An’ who’s Caesar?” he asked, cocking his head and giving the man a suspicious eye.
Word Count: 378 | Oh my god cute overload. 8D This is going to be awesome.
Bonjour? Bonjour?! Frodo had never heard such a word be used before! The wolf man narrowed his eyes, and his brow shot straight upwards, because strange as he was, with all his puzzlements and odd ways of speaking, it still intrigued him when others spoke in a different language. A low chuckle escaped him when Skoll insisted that he wasn’t far away from home, but despite his words not being able to explain just how far. No matter. Frodo would take the little rascal home later, it would do Frodo some good being able to help another out. It was usually him having to be rescued. Not far, you say, squirt? he murmured, looking in the direction Skoll had looked. The only thing he could see was a clump of snowy mountains, however he could smell the pack-territory in the wind. Frodo was pretty sure by now that Skoll was from that very pack. What was it called? Frodo racked his brains. Oh yes. Cour des Miracles.
It was nice to know the little one had a friend… that apparently was half ghost and loved parties. What an imagination children had… Frodo shook his head, chuckling darkly, continuing to ruffle the young boys head as he sat cross-legged opposite him. But he’d noticed the curiosity of the ring around his neck so self consciously tucked it into his bandana…he couldn’t risk to have the pup swallow it or play with it and then loose it. It was an extremely precious and valuable heirloom.
His chuckles only grew louder when Prince Skoll Haskel, as he declared himself, got angry about the short comments and seemed to arise in dominance. Perhaps had it been another that fell upon Skolls path, they wouldn’t have believed him when he said he was the son of a king, a prince, but Frodo was one of those people who believed in everything and anything. Son of a king? Well, pardon me, Mr high and mighty. he grinned as the pup stomped with his paw, and Frodo sang a little ditty; Tv highlight of the week! grinning still, he watched the pup plop half way onto his lap, and Frodo looked down with curious green eyes, his face wondrous. Motor my coca cola, you will be bigger than me, no doubtin’ that, I’m a right strawberry shortcake. But fer the moment, you’re a midget. Bein’ small means you are quite an’ slick, and well nifty though. Jus’ you remember that. You might have a small body but be real big in the inside! Big things come in small packages, mark my words. the golden haired male looked down at Skoll when he asked who Caesar was. Well, I’ll be damned, the little prince dunt know everythin’! he paused with a mocking smirk, ever so patting the young boy on the head. Caesar was a human, in the time of humans. He was a great warrior, and he conquered all of Rome, becoming a fine dictator! You might not know about Rome…it’s in Italy. You know, pizza, pasta, all that lot? Anyways, no sooner than Caesar had become dicator, he was murd-- Frodo caught himself, knowing that Skoll perhaps didn’t know what death, or being murdered was. He uh…got forced to leave the world. he said weakly, shaking his head a little. Forever. the man added.
i need another story something to get off my chest
my life is kinda boringneed something that i can confess
The man seemed perplexed by his special greeting, but Skoll didn’t really want to waste the time explaining what it meant to him. Every once in a while he’d slip up and start babbling French to a random fellow Court member, and after a while their blank stares had conditioned him to alter his language. However, the confusion stopped there, at least until the wolf seemed to think he was far from his pack—and Skoll bit his lip slightly at the murmured echo.
The ruffling fingers felt good, and he tipped his head back into the stranger’s palm before noting the disappearance of the ring. He hid his disappointment—because while he might not have paid the trinket much attention before, the fact that it was hidden from him made him more interested, as was the way of any child’s curiosity. He stared at the bandana as if he would suddenly develop X-ray vision until the laughter barked out overhead.
The dark canine teased him a little more then conceded that Skoll probably would get bigger than him. Pleased, the pup gave a little nod and an arrogant humph of satisfaction before pricking his ears at the encouragement. “My insides big too,” he assured the curly-furred man, nodding again. “But s’okay. Be a little while afore I get bigger’n’you,” he added, patting the man’s knee.
The lesson on Caesar made the boy’s green eyes widen again, and while he didn’t understand half the terms offered to him, he chronicled everything next time he felt like being a showoff to his family. No doubt all of the Court would learn who Caesar was in the upcoming days.
The lame ending of the story made him cock his head. “Oh. They din’ kill him? That sounds easier.” He broke out into a grin and hopped fully onto the man’s lap, tail wagging. “Did ’e leave through a door?!” Skoll asked suddenly, wondering if Papa Legba had gotten fed up with him and ushered him out. Or weren’t the doors supposed to open to good fortune? He forgot most of what the last mysterious outsider had said at the borders.
“Whatcha name, shortcake?” the boy asked then, realizing that he didn’t know what to properly call the man. “An’ how come you know so much stuff?”
Word Count: 384 | ARKDJSKAL kids say the darnedest things
Frodo found himself taking a liking to the little pup by him. Indeed it seemed like every other pup, Skoll was innocent and full of life, but there seemed to be something making him unique. He had inside him a certain boldness but there was kindness weaved inside the dominance the pup held, the perfect balance between calm and boisterous it seemed. When he was assured that it’d be a while before the pup would get bigger than Frodo, the man simply snorted, holding the pups reassuring gaze with a wink.
When he’d finished telling Skoll about Caesar, the reaction he got was beyond surprising. The man cocked an eyebrow wondering when and where the pup had been told of such things like death, and then decided, Skoll being a young boy, that the pup might want to know the truth of Caesar, and perhaps go into more detail of the murder. He was killed actually, my boy.I were givin’ you a fakety fake ending, ya know, to spare you all the gory details. Frodo said proudly, his voice quite matter of fact. He actually got crowded roun’ and, er, he was the victim of an assassination, involvin sixty other human’s stabbin’ him ‘gain an’ ‘gain. the man smirked slightly, his expression sheepish. Firs’ blow to the neck. After tha’, poor ol’ Caesar couldn’t Adam and Eve it that he were gonna die, but so he did, skipper, so he did. ‘cuz the peoples kept on stabbin‘ him wiv their knivsies and their forksies. he looked down at the door statement with a rather absurd expression, narrowing his eyes just a little. ‘Course not. he said simply, because it was the only answer he could think of.
His eyes twinkled when the pup hopped fully onto his lap and he crossed his arms, looking down at the little trouble maker with a halfway smirk, halfway grin. But still he resumed his previous posture and then carried on keeping up the gentle banter between the pup and him. It certainly was proving to be a rather interesting conversation. Names Frodo, Frodo Silvertongue, squire. But you can call me Idiot, everyone else does, you get me? And before you ask, no I aint got a silver tongue. he paused, and then couldn’t help but laugh once more… the pup thought he knew a lot of stuff, did he? Usually he was the empty headed one! The only sort of answer he could come up with was the following: I been ‘round a lot. A bit of a traveler, me. I were born a gypsy, and then I joined a pack - which is more of a tribe than a pack - and then I got kidnapped by pirates. The gypsy’s tellin’ me stories, the tribe-pack tellin’ me stories, and then the pirates too! Nifty bit of info I get too, believe me young squire. he ran a hand through the curly hair of his, the hair that had so many different flowers and feathers tied into it's depths, and then looked down at the pup, anxious to see what the outcome of his previous comment would be.
i need another story something to get off my chest
my life is kinda boringneed something that i can confess
Fortunately, Skoll Haskel did not have intimate knowledge of death. He knew that one was supposed to kill bad guys and that it made them go away and never, ever come back ever again; some of the more aggressive talk around Cour des Miracles had been about things like that. However, he hadn’t seen anyone die or known anyone who had been killed, and in his small mind, only bad guys ever died. Heroes were invincible, after all.
He shot the golden-ticked male a look when he said that he’d been faking, but then he went ahead and described the actual murder—in detail. Green eyes grew gigantic as the young cub stared at him, imagining the multiple stabbings that led to the human dying. Had he not been covered in blonde fur, he might have gone white as a sheet at the imagery.
“Oh,” Skoll managed in a tiny voice after all that, “okay.”
He managed to shake off his somewhat freaked out expression and brightened when he heard the other introduce himself at last as Frodo Silvertongue. He was about to peer into the flapping mouth when the young man assured him that his tongue was actually not silver, and Skoll huffed. “Well, that name silly then,” he said. It was like giving Skoll the name “Bluenose” when his nose wasn’t blue, or something like that. Of course, his mind worked in literal terms more often than not.
Frodo went on to explain he was a traveler, and when he mentioned his journey and all the groups he’d come in contact with, Skoll beamed with admiration. His awed silence did not last long, however, as he jumped to make a comment on just about everything the man said.
“What’s a gypsy? Did you fight the pirates? Were they scary? Have treasure? Is tribe AniWaya? They bad guys, but nice Lady Lohi came make friends, an’ Hati’n’me gotta be good princes ’cause she guest, and war over anyway, and I not a squire! I only little, but I be squire someday. Noss a squire. He Strel mate. After squire’s sarrrrge an’ then—um—but the top is the con stables, an’ top top top is King, my daddy. What your pack rank, Frodo?”
After his rambling mess, he blinked owlishly at the young man who’d proved to have all the answers so far.
Word Count: 394 | my apologies for puppy-ramble, haha
Puppy ramble = awesome. Thought we could try and wrap this up... sorry for the wait, and tell me if you want powerplay changed! wc; 473
Ok...so maybe telling him all the details of the story might not have been a good idea after all. The man fought back laughter at the short reply of young Skoll, who seemed taken aback to say the least. However he couldn't help but laugh when Skoll stated that his name was silly. You're probably right, there. he said, more to himself than to the pup. His mind drifted off for a second or two and then he reverted it back once more, back to reality, the pup on his lap and the duty he felt he had, the duty that he somehow needed to keep the puppy safe. Skoll practically reeked of innocence. Frodo curled up his muzzle slightly and muttered something under his breath, perhaps a silent warning that the curious little buddy would make it through. Skoll seemed largely trusting of Frodo, straight away it seemed, something his parents would have to sort out for him as he grew up.
The little ramble found him speechless by the end. He had encountered countless puppies, and they never ceased to amaze him. Woaaah there, polly pocket! he exclaimed, patting the pup on the shoulder with a shake of his black and auburn head. Can't keep up, can I mate? he snorted, fondly gazing down with large green eyes. He racked his brains for a while, trying to think of some kind of answer for Skoll, while wondering what he'd got himself in for. Eventually he came up with.....well, he came up with something. For starters, a gypsy is someone who travels about in a biiiig group, tradin' goods and stuff. Gettin' by. he paused, indicating there should be a break in between most sentences.
Yes, tribe is AniWaya. But we're not badguys. We got taken over by bad guys, and they did the bad things. But they're gone now. Bye bye to the bad guys! and then another pause, before continuing; Finally, sorry for callin' you squire then, squire! And my pack rank is Tsidu Kanati; which means Rabbit Hunter, but I'll soon be a Game Hunter, if I play my cards right. his gaze then flickered up to the sky, where a dark red seemed to be licking along the horizon. Now, I figured if you were all the way down here, you'd be lost. Peter rabbits, if you want, I better be gettin' you home before it gets dark. Savvy? he asked, using one hand to grab the pup gently by the scruff, the other hand to place underneath Skoll to support the weight. He wandered over to the horse, and plonked the bundle of fur down into one saddle bag; it wasn't too deep, and the pup would easily be able to peek his head out. Hold on, Prince Skoll, we're in for a bumpy ride.
i need another story something to get off my chest
my life is kinda boringneed something that i can confess
Skoll bit his tongue when the young man let out a "whoa," his gingery ears falling back against his head sheepishly. It was a wonder he wasn't constantly instructed to breathe or quit vibrating or something similar every second of the day, but his curiosity was only as strong as any other puppy around his age. The fact that this was one of the first outsiders he'd ever met only lent to his interest, as well as Frodo's apparent knowledge of everything from a dictionary worth of vocabulary to the fall of the human named Caesar. Despite his outgoing personality, the young Haskel was also more acquainted with the land and the various places to get in trouble rather than his comrades; most didn't have time to babysit the pup when the war was going on, and so that left him thirsty for stories.
Beaming, the puppy waited patiently -- or patiently enough not to wriggle and squirm and whine, though his eyes might have reached out and grabbed and shaken Frodo's brain to get the information out -- and wagged his tail once his first of a dozen questions was answered. "Like a movin' pack?" he asked, tilting his head; this question carried less intensity and would be answered easily enough by a nod or shrug, as he was already trying to sort this with everything else he'd learned so far today. The trading reminded him of the artisan pack in the northwest, but as far as he knew, they were normal and stayed still like everyone else. Otherwise, they would be called gypsies too.
He frowned at mention of the bad guys that had taken over AniWaya. "My daddy kick 'em out," he informed the curly-haired wolf, that frown turning into a tiny grin. "AniWaya all better now? Bad guys no hurt an'body?" His perception of the Tribe, conjured from eavesdropping on harsh whispers and forming nightmares from the scarce information, was beginning to change quite quickly. Had he been older, his prejudices might have lingered longer -- but Frodo had proven to be really nice, and so had Lady Lohi, and now he was being told that the bad guys had been a separate entity after all. He would have to ask more about that later, provided he didn't forget as soon as he went back home.
The foreign word launched at him made his green eyes widen, and his tongue twisted in his mouth at the notion of trying to pronounce the name. The translation made a lot more sense, and he shook his head lightly. Though he knew a smattering of French as well as the puppy-babble that made up a lot of his and his siblings' talk, this strange language for ranks the Tribe had adopted seemed silly. It was weird enough to know that they had ranks unlike Cour des Miracles did, though if he had a mind to, he might have been able to draw the parallels -- but the complications of social structure wasn't something the cub wanted to worry about right now.
"Good at huntin' rabbits?" Skoll mumbled, his words slurring as his eyelids drooped suddenly. He hadn't even realized that he'd been getting tired, but the cause was apparent on the horizon: something that Frodo took note of. The puppy went limp once his scruff was grabbed, and he blinked at the young man once more until they approached the horse. At that point, he was able to fend off his sleepiness for a bout of excited whimpering as he stared at the stallion, smelled the stallion, settled in the saddle bag attached to the stallion.
"Cheval!" the golden puppy squealed, and he shifted around in the saddle bag excitedly, though he wasn't able to squirm enough to fall out. He spent more time staring at the horse than at their surroundings from then on, amazed by the prospect of being close to an actual breathing horse! He tried to explain his excitement to his newfound friend, but it came out in a long, breathy babble: "Neverevertoolittleneverbeenahorse!"
And then he proceeded to pass out snoring.
Word Count: 680 | yaayyy. we can end it here if you want, or you can post again, up to you ^^
