they shoot the dice for one remaining bone

POSTED: Thu Sep 13, 2018 4:18 pm

With freedom sometimes came monotony, if you didn't know what to do with yourself.

Few of their little troupe seemed to have that problem, though there was a low current of unrest and dissatisfaction on those warm days where lazing around seemed to be the only option. Merari was quick to notice also that many of the coyotes left -- for hours or days -- to sate the need for action. She, of course, was one of them, venturing north into the mountains to climb (hoping sometimes to find Bramble again) or exploring caves and lakes and hollows.

Others patrolled. Nazario thieved. John whored. Laurel traded -- and gambled.

An exclamation of Spanish drew her from the tent -- just a hide thrown over a low-hanging branch for shade -- and out into the open where she saw the paunchy coymutt leering at John. The two men were seated near the campfire ashes, occasionally rolling small pieces of carved bone. Laurel watched one bounce past his hip then leaned down to look at it, apparently satisfied with what he saw; he smiled and rubbed his muzzle with sooty fingers. I have all the luck, amigo.

What are you guys doing? Merari asked, her eyes bright. Show me.

POSTED: Thu Sep 13, 2018 9:29 pm

The Magnificent

John squinted down at the dice that Laurel threw. The cigarette jammed between his teeth shifted from side to side as he chewed on it, brows lowered in concentration.

The stakes were simple ones, hated chores were put up against the roll of the dice. He had a nagging thought that Laurel might be cheating, that dirty motherfucker. Not that John blamed him. From in the trees above their head Goblin watched and occasionally screeched a slur or a swear word down at the two gambling yotes.

Laurel crowed with triumph and John uttered a low oath,

"You sure this shit ain't rigged." He glared doubtfully at Laurel, but a win was a win and John rubbed at his forehead. Shit, he'd have to drag all the water up from the river now.

Johnathan took in a deep drag from his cigarette and blew out the smoke away from his niece then tossed the stub into the cold, dead fire,

"Hey Merari. I'm getting shafted is what's happenin'. Laurel laughed and John scowled all the harder.

"We're playin' at dice." This game was one he was not as familiar with and he suspected Laurel had fudged the rules in his own favor. He side-eyed the man suspiciously.

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Johnathan Winthrop
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Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Sat Sep 22, 2018 8:51 am

How'm I gonna rig it? Mal perdedor, Laurel mocked, reaching up as if to flick the cigarette drooping in the coymutt's pouting lips. La diosa fortuna favors the beautiful, 's'all. He laughed and traced his fingers vainly along the dark streaks that marked his brow and cheekbones -- though if he was ever properly handsome, time had stripped this from him.

Merari cocked her head as Laurel played with the bone dice in his palm, bouncing and rolling them absentmindedly. He flashed her a grin, revealing his missing fang, and laughed at John. Her uncle explained that they were playing at dice, and Rari tiptoed over to see what the little objects being cast were. Laurel helpfully lifted his hand to show her.

Give 'er a blow, he said. Ain't gonna turn down more luck.

The young coyote laughed and puffed air at them, and Laurel held one up between his index and thumb, showing her the symbols engraved into the bone. Got numbers on 'em. Most games y' roll yours against your friend's. Or y' roll and hope for a certain number.

Merari glanced at John then plopped down beside them, sitting tailor style and crossing her feet at the ankles. Bracing her hands on her thighs, she leaned forward. Show me. I wanna play. What do you win?

Laurel glanced slyly at John.

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