[P] Hallowed Holes and Other Places to Hide Things
Quote:Create a safe space to hoard your stolen treasures, make sure its location remains a secret! 395/2000

She had been here many times since the first lesson. Even still the stones all looked weird to her. Somethings she could make out, most were still unknown to her. She wanted to ask her masked partner in crime if they’d teach her more about how to read, using the stones again, but they weren’t in the Bone Garden for scholarly purposes. Still, it wouldn’t hurt if they were sighted together among the marker rocks. Any glances from passersby could form a theory that Émeraude was helping her learn how to read if they lingered for a while. Woodsmoke had yet to speak, but she glanced to Cherub who was serving as their eye-in-the-sky lookout. “Em, stand with me here for a moment,” she instructed.

Had they made a bee-line for the crypt, then the hypothetical passersby may have their curiosity piqued. Why would two packmates enter such a lonely, secluded, quiet place? What tantalizing information could they acquire with prying eyes and eavesdropping ears? She could think of a few assumptions, but the truth was what she wanted to keep hidden. She waited by a stone while her companion found their way next to her. Gazing at the masked bandit for a moment, the wild woman was glad she wouldn’t be alone for a while. “We can’t really hide anything here, but underground is perfect,” she explained, voice low, almost a mumble. “I want others to think I’m trying to read, if there’s anyone around Cherub is not spotting.” She didn’t want to disparage her bird’s ability, the raven was an excellent scout, but folks could slip through the tiny gaps in his gaze.

Confident in establishing their front, the woman headed towards the crypt’s entrance. “The stairs go very far down, but you need to be careful.” She warned as she carried herself forward on her fours. “The stairs could be slippery, and some parts have caved in.” Manmade structures always crumbled with age, even those made of stone. She wondered what would come of anything that New Caledonia made. Would they create something so grand that it would last forever after they were gone? And would some curious adventure stumble onto one of their shared stashes ages after they expired? Time would only tell. For now, they were finding a spot to hide their ill-gotten goods from the rest of their pack.
Quote:Rogue Prompt II: "Create a safe space to hoard your stolen treasures, make sure its location remains a secret! "

In the months they had spent getting to know Woodsmoke, Em had taken a liking to the woman. She was much less civilized than the other Caledonians, more in tune with the Luperci's natural state. She spent all her time on four legs and used no tools, her house was a hole in the ground while the closest thing to clothes she had had was the blanket that sometimes covered her. She was simple where Em was complex, the wolf mutt rough while the dog had smoothed out all their exterior rough edges. The contrast was something to be appreciated, one of the reasons why Em kept coming back to her.

And the fact that they had the same job certainly helped. When Émeraude finally got around to thinking about a stash spot for ill-gotten loot they knew just the right person to turn to. "Sure." Why were they standing in some dusty old graveyard? Why had that blasted bird followed along? What did any of this have to do with hiding stolen goods? It would all be revealed in time, Woodsmoke's way of doing things was unorthodox but never stupid. So Em did as instructed, waiting for his partner in crime to finish staring at the gravestones while they rubbed their nails against themself. 

The explanation was a satisfactory one, masked bandit not even looking at Woodsmoke when giving their response. "Good thinking then to bring the bird but let us hope we're not overheard."Even while whispering they couldn't escape their compulsion to rhyme, the habit formed by too much repetition. 

There was little else to say once the coast was clear. The dog did their best to keep from slipping on the way down, peering curiously about the ancient tomb. The only light available was the suns rays leaking in from the door, enough illumination to make out the cobwebs and dust that choked the place. "Hmm...we could defile a coffin, stick the loot between rib bones, that would ensure that it's left alone. Or we could just find a cranny, some secluded nook, bag our things and trust that no one will look?"

OOC: Wordcount 364
As they descended the old stone steps of the crypt, Woodsmoke rubbed her face on obvious spots to hide their things. False scent markers to throw anyone off. Her intent was to make as many fake places where folks would check, only to have their real spot unmarked and hidden in plain sight. Only the frustrated or determined would check every nook and cranny in death’s domicile. If they could brave the morbid atmosphere and the spiders. Oh, the spiders. There were many, but they didn’t move much at all. Hibernating in the cool, but not frigid underground. Their stillness only to ensure that they may move when the warm sun showed while gentle breezes blew carried the heat of the day with them all around. Summer was a wonderful time, all animals reveled in it.

“That’s the plan,” she told her compadre, the side of her face smushed against a panel that likely housed a body of those that came before behind it. “Either or, but I want to make it confusing for anyone coming in here.” They didn’t have their aerial guardian down here with them in the depths, possibly to Em’s relief. Cherub was a handful, that much was true, but he respected Woodsmoke. Not too many others though. The woman wondered how many pack members had been down here, if any at all. Perhaps some curious pups, or maybe someone seeking a little prolonged solitude. Aye, pack life held great stressors for its adults and grand adventures for its youngsters. What evil things lurked below that they could vanquish and how cool and calm this place was, if one could stand being surrounded by the dead that is.

She stopped for a moment and stared at an opened slot. With head tilted slightly she peered inside, only to be greeted by a wood casket, ravaged by time. Long ago this body may have been installed improperly, leading to this gaping hole, or perhaps the body was being removed? She did not no, nor did she care, but the smell and the spot caught her attention. The scent of decaying wood could cover up any traces they left behind, and the awkwardness of touching a long since dead body might deter individuals from stealing their ill-gotten gains. “What about here?” she asked, looking to Émeraude. “We may be able to hide our stuff in here, but you’re the one with arms.” She said with a grin. Was Em as squeamish as their brother Calan? Here she’d find out. “Think you could do the honors?” If she had to, she’d shift and do it herself, but she wanted to test her partner in crime’s fortitude.


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