'Souls RPG

Full Version: We'll travel far; far as the eyes can see
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OOC: Backdated to May 20th in the Floral Meadows.

It was weird, having a place to live. Marten didn’t think their camp would be permanent — there was too much island to explore for that — but their current home reminded her of, well, home. The woods were small enough that she could walk from end to the other before the sun set, and she could hear the ocean from almost everywhere, and obviously some of the plants and animals were different, but beside all that it was just like the caribou forest of her youth.

Which also meant it was boring, at least when Chipmunk was chattering in her ear. They always wanted her to explore, explore, explore, even when she just wanted to rest, rest, rest.

Blaise had taken the animal guide’s side, though she didn’t know it; she’d just wanted to find something to eat and have someone to talk to on the way. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken much convincing to get Marten out of bed and on the path to adventure. Where did that path lead? Who knew! That was always the best part.

The pair’s paws took them through the thick forest and into the sparser woods beyond it, mostly by following a game trail littered with deer droppings. Marten had considered rolling in them, but Blaise was explaining how archery worked and it would be hard to focus on both things at the same time; maybe she could roll in it on the way back instead.

The forest thinned the further they walked, until it was easy to see between them. ”Blaise, look!” Marten shouted, cutting her friend off mid-sentence. Beyond the trees was a massive field of wildflowers, with bright green grass and colorful blooms as far as the eye could see. ”It’s beautiful.” There was a clearing like this on the edge of her parents’ territory, but it was way smaller, like… Like if the clearing was the size of a puddle, this field would be the size of a lake.

”Hey Blaise, do you see that stump?” Marten asked, gesturing to the remains of a once-massive maple tree. It was tall enough to be seen over the grass and flowers, so hopefully it would be easy to find once they were in the thick of it. ”Last one there’s a rotten egg!” The yearling play bowed at Blaise before loped through the treeline and down the hill.

A chorus of small, seed-eating birds took flight in front of her, and Marten leaped into the air to snap at their feet. Landing with a grunt a few seconds later, she crashed through the dense grass without caring what hit her or where; she wasn’t going to be a rotten egg!
there's no crowds in the streets and no sun

Since the group's arrival to the island, Blaise often compared her current situation to her own plans prior to meeting Thread and Marten. Sometimes she  had thought she would turn around and go back to Sinopa; other times, she had considered seeking hospitality or even residence from one of the packs in the area. The Sadira knew that she had relatives in Nova Scotia - her mother had told her as much.

Instead, she found herself camped out on an island with a few other loners to whom she was almost certain she was not related, a circumstance wildly different from her "plans." Yet, she was not unhappy with it. 

She had grudgingly agreed to accompany Marten on a little adventure to scout out the area. Blaise would have much preferred to slink off by herself, but she was concerned for the other young woman's feelings, and did not want to hurt her. They set off, and once they put some distance between themselves and their camp, Blaise felt her mood lifting (much to her surprise). It was a lovely day, and Marten's company was... stimulating, and mildly delightful. Once, as they traced a game trail, the other woman had been overcome with a strong urge to roll in deer droppings. Blaise rushed to  explain why this was not a good idea, feeling a bit disgusted, and very amused. Marten may have been able to notice the one corner of Blaise's lips curling in a lopsided grin as they moved on from the droppings. 

Eventually their paws brought them to the edge of a breathtaking meadow. Marten told her to look, and she did, her eyes growing large in the shock of colorful flowers nestled in the midst of the forest. "Yes, it is beautiful," she agreed. Like Marten, she was reminded of a similar meadow in her homeland, though it, too had been much smaller than the one they currently beheld. 

She had only seconds to absorb the beauty before Marten challenged her to a race. Blaise fixed the she-wolf with an incredulous stare, sighing deeply. "Alright," she grumbled, again agreeing to something she did not especially want to do. 

Marten was off like an arrow, and Blaise followed, her long legs carrying her easily through the ocean of wildflowers. A small flock of birds erupted before them, easily avoiding Marten's snapping fangs, disappearing into the trees. The light breeze stirred all the lovely aromas of the flowers and the plant life around Blaise as she ran. She had regained some of her strength since she joined the loners, and she was as fast as ever. She reached the stump and whipped around, looking to see if Marten had reached it before her, a sudden competitiveness having awakened.



OOC: 458

in my own summer
Wildflowers whipped at Marten’s face as she ran, leaving torn petals and crushed stalks in her wake. Each bounding step and panting breath brought her closer to her goal, and as tall grass gave way to clover, victory felt certain. “Ha! Can’t catch— Whoah!” Marten stumbled as Blaise darted past, overtaking the green-eyed girl with long, loping strides. Once she reached the stump, she skidded to a stop and whirled around in search of her opponent; Marten, hot on her heels, veered to the left to avoid crashing into her.

The race was over, and Blaise had won. Marten laughed and headbutted her friend’s shoulder. ”You’re so fast! I thought I was gonna win, but then you ran faster than me, and then you won, and it was awesome!” She said, her paws sliding in the dirt until she was leaning against Blaise’s side. Marten was so tired and so happy that she didn’t even mind being a rotten egg. The phrase didn't make any sense anyway; why would losing a race make her a smelly old egg?

”What should we do next?” Marten asked, having already forgotten why they’d left camp in the first place. She leaned toward a large-petaled flower, all her body weight now pushing against Blaise’s side, and took a big sniff. The field was too smelly to pick out one its particular scent, but that wouldn’t stop Marten from trying.

”I think we should race again!” Chipmunk chirped, because of course they did. Marten shook her head; she was tired, and they didn’t have anywhere good to race to.

The animal guide continued chattering in her mind's ear, guiding her gaze around the meadow. Chipmunk suggested they race to a patch of yellow flowers, or a particularly tall blade of grass, or the dead tree on the far side of the field. Which was actually a pretty good idea, the more Marten thought about it; maybe they could check it out when she stopped panting, or after they did whatever Blaise wanted to do.

Marten’s paws slid a bird’s hop too far, and she flailed as the ground rushed up to meet her. She didn’t yelp, because it didn’t hurt, but it was disorienting to suddenly be staring up at Blaise when she’d been mostly upright seconds ago.