No man is an island

P. Sylven | Black Lake

POSTED: Mon May 30, 2016 12:40 pm

The water was cold, refreshing. It caressed her like a blanket of wet and held her aloft, as though the laws of gravity had no control within the depths of the lake. Rays of sunlight filtered dimly through the surface, casting shimmering lengths of broken light down and down and down until they were lost to the darkness that held staunch command of its mysterious bottom. Ailie swam, scooping the water aside with powerful sweeps of her arms while her feet kicked out elegantly from behind her. Her tail acted as a rudder, oscillating slowly against the water's gentle resistance. She was naked but for the shell secure by a thong around her neck. A silver fish darted away from her in a flash of sequins. She followed its trail until it disappeared in a thicket of weeds then, righting herself vertically, she followed a train of tiny bubbles upwards again to the golden surface.

Ailie burst theatrically from beneath the lake, tossing her head back so wildly that a spray of water showered Mal. The child squeaked and lifted his arms to his face, one eye squinting. But he was smiling. It was small, just a gentle quirk of his lips, but it was there. The water dog broadened her own grin. "Come an' join me, then!" she said brightly, treading water to keep herself upright. "Ah can teach ye te catch fish."

Malcolm was sitting on a length of deadwood with a rusted awl and a small shell in either hand. At his feet were a small handful of various items — stones and shells and sea glass. He looked at her dubiously, the smile turning into skepticism. "You mean with your hands?" he said, his voice quiet. "You can't do that." Ailie guffawed but the sound died away again, replaced with a defeated frown. "Fine, Ah'll give ye that," she relented. "Bu' there aare plenty o' treasures te find down 'ere. Ah'll show ye!" And she disappeared again in another spray of water, down into the depths of the mysterious lake.

[WC — 347]


User avatar
Mandi
Luperci
ceilidh gràdh gràin

POSTED: Fri Jun 03, 2016 5:02 am

OOC: OTTER INCOMING. Feel free to splash Sylface ;D

IC:
The day was warm. Too warm, really, to be training in the sun, but Sylven was working with his sword all the same. He had made a dummy – a sack filled with earth and straw – and tied it to a wooden stake not far from Aster's Fields. He had never gotten over his curiousity concerning the caribou, nor the hint of nerves which surfaced whenever he was faced with one of the adults, and that was good. He needed to learn to hone his craft around distractions.

It was only when his palms grew too sweaty to properly grip the sword that Sylven gave up on training and trundled toward Sister Lake. He still held the sword, but had to switch it from hand to hand regularly, once or twice coming uncomfortably close to letting it slip from his slick pads.

Sylven didn't know at which point Smiley had decided to join him; the river otter had a habit of simply appearing, sleek and long and seemingly never at rest. One moment Sylven was walking alone, and the next the lithe brown form was at his ankles, winding tight circles around him. Smiley was apparently oblivious to the weapon in his companion's hands, and Sylven had to yell a warning when the otter's happy circles nearly tripped him.

“Idiot,” he muttered, but he could never quite keep a grin from his maw when Smiley was around. “Yu comin' to the lake, then?”

Of course the otter didn't offer any response other than an excited clicking sound, but Syl took that as confirmation. Smiley dashed ahead as grass and earth began to give way to sand and pebbles, and Sylven laughed in his wake, breaking into a slow jog so he could see his streamlined body slip into the waters.

There was someone else already at the lake's edge: a boy sat on a length of driftwood, an assortment of items scattered about his feet. Sylven shot a smile at Mal and laid the sword on the warm sand before stepping to the water's edge to rinse his hands, oblivious to Ailie beneath the surface.

“Yu got some nice treasure there,” he remarked over his shoulder.

[300+]
SYLVENFIREBRINGER

POSTED: Tue Jun 21, 2016 9:05 pm

OOC: so sorry for my gross slow :< I hope this post is okay! I wasn't sure if Smiley had made a beeline right for the water or what. I can edit if no good c:

Mal kept his mossy eyes on the surface of the lake until the ripples stilled and the sun's reflection became uninterrupted once again. Only then did he return to his work, craning his neck down to the shell and awl that were in his hands. Carefully, and with a great deal of concentration, the youth carried on worrying a hole in the hard surface of the shell. But he was not so focused that he didn't hear company approaching. The Greenhorn froze, as though if he remained perfectly still he would draw no attention, and held his breath.

The first to break through the sedges and rushes surrounding their little beach was an otter. Mal allowed himself a little reprieve, releasing his held breath as he watched the sleek mustelid hop in ungainly bounds toward the lake. He slipped beneath the surface and disappeared from view just as the wolf approached.

Mal snapped his head around, taking in the man with a rapid flick of olive eyes before turned his attention to his hands. Big as he was, the way that the youth hunched his back and drew in his shoulders and hips and limbs made him seem somehow small. "Thanks," he managed to mumble quietly, thinking he might join Ailie after all in the lake.

She broke the surface finally, the lake writhing and rippling as spray shot out in all directions. In her arms was something oblong and black. "Din't find treasures but Ah found Raosar!" she bellowed. The loon pecked irritably at Ailie's curly arm until the water dog released her with a squawk of pain. With a level of grace reserved only for creatures of lake and sea, Raosar returned to the water, skimming its pristine surface with effortless majesty. Once she was a reasonable distance away from the canines, she glared at Ailie with deep red eyes. The woman gave the bird no further grief, her attention locked firmly on Sylven. "Who's this then, Mal?" But the boy merely shrugged and left his guardian to glance expectantly at the seal point wolf.

[WC — 352]


User avatar
Mandi
Luperci
ceilidh gràdh gràin

POSTED: Tue Jun 28, 2016 11:11 am

OOC: No worries. And yeah, Smiley just dove in without waiting for Syl because otters got no manners xD

IC:
The youngster seemed uneasy, so Sylven made sure his gaze didn't linger of him for long enough to compound that feeling. Mal's fleeting gaze reminded him of his sister Akara, but Syl wasn't about to interrupt the boy's work to tell him that. He was more interested in the lake, too, and his gaze soon shifted back to the glistening surface and the spot where Smiley had slipped beneath the ripples.

Sylven was shaking droplets from his dark hands when the lake's surface shattered and sprayed up and out in a shower of glinting beads. The young man started, twisting away from the sudden disturbance with the agility of a cat. From the depths of the lake rose a figure, dressed in a tightly curled pelt and holding a struggling creature which Sylven could identify in the next moment as some sort of bird. Forgetting his fright in a matter of seconds, he straightened and tilted his head. The bird was putting up a good fight against the woman's arm, until it was finally released to sail some distance away.

Not for the first time, Sylven wondered at the temperaments of birds. The loon looked less than happy even at a distance – not that Ailie seemed at all bothered.

The Wayfarer's fur had darkened streaks tracking through it thanks to the impromptu shower, and he rubbed a damp palm against the wet spots as if that would somehow restore his coat's proper colour. He glanced again at Mal, this time with his brows raised. The boy had obviously known that the curly coated woman was going to erupt from the lake at some point, though he had chosen not to share that knowledge with Sylven. Far from being put out, the guardian was amused.

“Name's Sylven Firebringer.” She had a coat of a rich rust colour speckled with white, but it was her curls and dreadlocks which compelled Sylven to look at her. He smiled. “Looks like yur made for the water.”

[300+]
SYLVENFIREBRINGER

POSTED: Sat Jul 02, 2016 11:28 pm

OOC: Hah! Otters do what they want!

While Sylven attempted to exchange pleasantries with the awkward youth and Mal, in turn, willed himself to achieve full invisibility, Ailie Morgan pulled her curly body weightlessly through the lake's pristine depths. Another flash of silver caught her eye just in time to see a second fish flit away into a thicket of slimy emerald streamers. Without another thought towards it, she twisted away and drew herself deeper and deeper and deeper down Black Lake's murky gullet. Ailie could hold her breath a fair length of time but she was still mortal in the end. Just as she was running out of oxygen, Raosar shot past her like a bullet followed by a trail of tiny shimmering bubbles. She swam after the loon, scooped her into her loving arms, and brought her back up to the life-giving surface of the world again.

Mal didn't seem terribly impressed by her "find" but Ailie just chalked that up to their new pack mate's sudden appearance. While the loon glared irritably at the canines, ruffling her checkerboard feathers for good measure, the Greenhorn listened to Sylven's introduction while simultaneously treading water. Her eruption from the lake's surface had clearly showered him with water. She could see how the wheaten shades of his pelt had become speckled with tan and the seal with dark chocolate. Rather than offer apology, Ailie grinned. After all, a little water never hurt anyone.

Malcolm could feel that the man was looking at him and focused his gaze so fiercely upon the ground that it was a wonder it didn't cave beneath the weight. He thought, over and over again, that he should have said something — offered him some kind of warning — but it was too late now; the damage had already been done.

Ailie glanced from her silent ward back to the seal point wolf, amusement will clear on her face. "Aye," she replied tentatively, her grin flashing mischievously. "Among other things." Her tone was bold and cheeky. "Ah'm Ailie Morgan an' yon bairn is Malcolm. The woman's arms flapped loftily beneath the lake to keep her afloat, creating tiny ripples and whirlpools upon the surface. She tilted her head. "Well?" she asked, a playful tone in her voice. "Does yer name suggest ye canna swim then?"

[WC — 389]


User avatar
Mandi
Luperci
ceilidh gràdh gràin

POSTED: Wed Jul 13, 2016 3:39 pm

Sylven brushed off the impromptu shower quickly enough – figuratively and literally. His sepia hands flicked droplets from his fur, and they landed on the ground like fallen soldiers. Malcolm seemed intent on looking at the ground; Sylven had never in his life met a youngster so quiet with the notable exception of his sister Akara, and he immediately decided he would give the boy his space rather than trying to force him into a conversation.

Besides, the curly coated woman was much more interesting.

Even as the rest of her glistened with water drops, Sylven thought he saw a cheeky gleam in her eye, and noted that though one was clearly wolf and the other patently dog by blood, they had similar eye colours. He wondered if looking at his own sunflower eyes gave rise to curiousity in others.

His gaze had lingered a little too long, as it was prone to doing around attractive women. He managed to shift it onto the sword whose blade shone white in the bright sunlight, before coming up with a response to the water dog's question:

“Doubt I'd have lasted long in Krokar if I couldn't swim.” There was a good-natured lilt to his Irish tones, and he took a step closer to the water as if to demonstrate that no amount of the stuff would extinguish the Firebringer.

Feeling emboldened by Ailie's playful demeanour, Syl glanced again at his sword to check that it wasn't going anywhere before taking a step back. He flashed a crooked grin at the woman – the only warning he would offer that she was about to get a taste of her own medicine – and then ran down the bank. His shaded arms came together above his head and he dove, aiming to hit the water a foot or two from Ailie. His body shot through the water with speed; he ended up perhaps a foot away from his intended spot, but when he emerged he wore a blazing grin.

"So what else are yu made for?"

[300+]
SYLVENFIREBRINGER

POSTED: Thu Aug 11, 2016 12:08 am

OOC: I freaking love Syl's new chibi <333

A dusting of sparkling droplets settled into the sand at his feet, turning the tiny granules from tawny to dark umber. Malcolm watched this happen, assuming more interest in the magic of water darkening the hue of sand than in the seal-point figure standing silently next to him. Tentatively, the coywolf lifted his olive gaze from his feet to assess the evolution of the current situation and was relieved to see that Sylven's attention was turned wholly upon his waterlogged guardian. His heart stilled slowly and, with a great deal of relief, the youth turned back to the shell and awl between his large fingers.

Ailie considered the man's response with a gradual curl to her lips. Her sunflower eyes betrayed her devious thoughts. "Aye?" she questioned brightly, feigning mild disbelief as her speckled arms sliced lazily through the water, keeping her afloat. "Ah dinnae s'pose ye plan te back yon statement with action..." Her ivory teeth were healthy and bold when they reflected the light of the sun overhead. Mal's floppy ears twitched and he chanced another furtive look up from his work, more worried than curious how Sylven would react. Quickly, he turned his attention upon his hands again and wished he'd decided against joining Ailie at the lake.

But the pointed wolf appeared more emboldened by Ailie's cheeky temperament than annoyed. With very little warning, he gathered momentum and sailed down the bank with his arms clasped together above his head. The Greenhorn had only a moment to cover her eyes from the pelting spray before Sylven hit the water not a two feet from where she tread water. She was still grinning when he emerged again, her eyes finding him again easily.

Ailie laughed, entertained and perhaps even a little impressed. "Ah cannae tell ye aall my secrets," she grinned toothily. "But Ah bet ye Ah can race ye te th' shore yonder." The water dog pointed to the far side of the lake, her eyes glinting with challenge when she found Sylven's matching irises.

[WC — 347]


User avatar
Mandi
Luperci
ceilidh gràdh gràin

POSTED: Thu Sep 01, 2016 9:18 am

There was a definite challenge in the curly coated female's voice, and Sylven had never been one to back down from a challenge. The grin he sported when he emerged from the cool depths of the lake was a triumphant one, and there was laughter in his sunny eyes. He had hoped to impress her, but, unsure if it had worked, he was ready for the next challenge to be set.

Ailie didn't disappoint. She proposed a race, and Syl's brows rose as he looked towards the far shore. It was quite a stretch away, and partially obscured by the twinkling of the water, but Sylven was in fine fettle and he wasn't about to let Ailie know that he had never swum competitively before.

“I'm sure yu can,” he admitted, “But can't help noticin' that yu didn't mention winning!”

With that, the seal pointed Firebringer struck out with his muscular arms, cutting through the blue of the water with ease and power. He suspected Ailie would be more than a match for him, but even if she was slower than she looked, he had no intention of throwing the race to let her win. Cool water caressed his torso as he swam, keeping his head above the surface and casting a glance over his shoulder only once to see how hot Ailie's pursuit was.

He felt aquatic plants tickling his feet, but he powered onward, kicking out with enough force that the fronds might have retreated in fear. The opposite shore was in sight, and now Sylven was cutting through those same sparkles and gleams he had viewed from far off. He did his best to keep up speed and moreso efficiency of movement, trying not to completely tire himself by kicking or swinging his arms when he didn't need to.

It was only when the bank was within touching distance that he realised he had completely forgotten about the short sword laying on the bank. He reached the end point of the race and wasn't sure who'd won – but he addressed Ailie through a pant.

“Hey, Malcolm won't make off with me sword, will he?”

[300+]
SYLVENFIREBRINGER

POSTED: Sat Sep 10, 2016 11:33 pm

OOC: hehehheh

"Some cheek," she whispered through a crooked smile, her sunflower eyes hooded beneath an amused frown. She watched his toned arms arch over the sparkling water before slicing trough it again, propelling him forward. A short snicker tickled her throat and, without wasting any more time, Ailie launched herself forward after the seal-point wolf.

She was made for water, her lean figure and narrow nose giving her an almost streamlined frame. The tight, oily curls covering her body allowed for some water resistance while her well-defined arms and legs pulled her forward. Her only downfall were the dreadlocks adorning her head, which had long ago soaked up lake water and become heavy and thick. Despite this, they didn't seem to affect the woman's ability to catch up with her competitor nor hinder her continued success in keeping up with him. She was used to them and the challenges they sometimes provided.

The Greenhorn was still frowning with amusement when her eyes caught Sylven's glance. "Best mind yer awn self," she panted between strokes. The cool water lapped against her face and filled her mouth with refreshing encouragement. Ailie sliced the dense water and kicked at the weeds, boosting herself until she was neck and neck with the Wayfarer.

When at last they reached the bank, Ailie gave Sylven a playful shove and lifted her arms in victory. The wolf's rendition might not agree with her own, but the Greenhorn was certain she'd won. She grinned at the man but delayed her shameless gloating when she noticed something seemed to be bothering him. When she vocalized his concerns, Ailie struggled to keep her face straight and the laughter from her voice. "Ach, laddie! Ye left yer sword ahint?" She shook her head gravely. "Ah dinnae think it's yer's ne more. Yon bairn likely took off with it th' moment we left."

She paused to allow the idea of a meek, anxious child running off with a short sword to sink into Sylven's mind before busting out in laughter. "Ah kid ye, laddie. Ah kid," she managed between giggles. "Shells an' stones aare more valuable te Mal than yon sword. It'll still be yonder when Ah beat ye back again."

[WC — 379]


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Mandi
Luperci
ceilidh gràdh gràin

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