the poet and the painter casting shadows on the water

POSTED: Mon Jun 24, 2019 7:16 pm

It got to a point where Fennore had to take her writings outside of the group's radius, lest he catch what she was up to. In the beginning it was easy to hide the works from him and pass them off as simple things that he wouldn't enjoy reading (not that he could read, anyway) — but soon Tamlin became restless and wanted to look at her work at marvel at her literacy, which of course would spoil the surprise.

Soon, it would be finished. But for now, it would be veiled in secrecy, as anxious and curious as the Anor man was.

Again she brought Macha with her as she set about her work, finding a nice tree to take shade under as she carefully balanced the sheets on her knees and wrote in sprawling script. Recalling the novel from memory was already an arduous task, so at points like today where the lull between two major events was fuzzy, she simply... made something up. It wasn't as if he could tell the difference, though she felt a little weird replacing the brilliance of the original.

The gray kitten yawned loudly nearby, stretching and arching her back before rolling over into the grass. They both could hear the distance babbling of a stream somewhere close by, which Macha would mew for longingly, but Fennore was adamant about her refraining from giving into her temptation; the feline was very prone to inhaling water as she jumped around and frolicked, and the wolfess was not keen on saving her from choking for the nth time. At least not today.

ooc → willow! :]


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POSTED: Thu Jul 04, 2019 9:49 pm

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I'm sorry this is mostly bird!rambling because I neglect this NPC lol. Feel free to skip until the last couple paragraphs for relevant stuff. <3

Bernie was no longer a young bird, but the falcon still had great prowess in the air.

The green-headed drake took flight from the stream, but didn't make it more than a few yards over the meadow before the gyr-saker hybrid struck. Willow held her breath as their bodies collided in a clutch of talons and explosion of feathers, watching the birds tumble downwards before they landed in a struggling heap in the grass.

By the time she reached them, jogging with ears pricked, Bernie was already pulling fleshy bits from the dead mallard. She whistled at him, but he spread his wings over his kill and hunched his head, dark eyes watchful.

Willow tutted. "Now now, that en't nice, didn't Ma teach ya better?" she chastised the falcon, who clicked his sharp, bloodied beak back at her. When she approached, however, he walked off the waterfowl and allowed her to gather its limp form in her hands—not before she tore off some pieces of meat with her claws for him to eat. He wolfed these down with such tenacity as to almost take her fingers with them.

The Cormier woman frowned, but she couldn't blame him. She'd neglected Bernie in favor of her wandering, and while there were always treats of fish when she visited, the falcon had grown used to hunting on his own again. No longer did he depend on her as greatly as he had in the harsh north. Their bond was one of necessity and convenience rather than love or trust, like her friendship with her caribou, but that was simply the nature of most birds; Willow didn't have hurt feelings over it.

"Let's try t' find somethin' else, then you'll have yer fill," Willow told Bernie, offering up her arm (wrapped in ill-fitting, but still protective, leather). The falcon stepped up, not without pecking once more at the duck, until she tied the carcass to a rope thrown over her shoulder and out of his sight. His head swiveled as they walked along the stream, searching the reeds and the trees beyond, and eventually he took off again.

As the brown-dappled falcon soared over the treetops, Willow walked along the water, until a pretty oak's fanning leaves caught her eye. Drawn to its shade, she was surprised to find someone else already lounging there: a pretty white wolf with a shock of red hair, and a kitten rolling around nearby. Willow grinned broadly.

"Hello!" she woofed, bushy tail wagging.


I took the time to breathe
Among the rootbuds and the weeds
But the peat moss and the leaves took turns with both my feet
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Luperci Piscator I, Priest I druid the wilds where the caribou call They stole my dirty socks... :(

POSTED: Sun Jul 07, 2019 8:04 pm

"Fen," Macha pouted, rolling over to rub against her canine companion's leg. "Water, Fen, look."

Fennore slowly peeled the cat's small form off of her thigh. "No, Macha," she said flatly, her eyes not tearing away from her charcoal writing. But the kitten was unsatisfied with the denial, and she again scooted over to purr and knead into the wolfess's soft pelt.

"Fen, water."

"No, Macha."

"Fennnn..." Her small jellybean paws pushed and prodded the woman, but the Moonwraith did not budge, instead sighing and rolling her eyes at the pitiful display. But soon Macha's attention was drawn away by sounds of one approaching, and Fennore too lifted her gaze to see her; her speckles and palette screamed of doggish blood, and her wide smile was captivating. Macha mewled excitedly at the stranger, and she instantly padded over to the dark-haired woman, looking to investigate and beg for affection she couldn't find with the pale she-wolf.

Ordinarily Fennore would hold off from letting the creature assault newcomers — but she was also just grateful Macha wasn't annoying her anymore, so it would have to do.

She met the smile with a small, polite nod, though her pretty features did not replicate the gesture. "Hail, stranger," she greeted cordially, setting aside her writing and eyeing the cat with weariness. "Apologies for Macha, she is... a bit wound-up at the moment."

ooc → ahh you're fine <3


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POSTED: Sat Jul 13, 2019 9:56 am

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The kitten mewled, abandoning the white-furred woman she'd been tumbling around to trot up to Willow, who knelt immediately to her level. She offered fingers to sniff, before reaching out to rub and scritch at the places she knew cats liked pet. She only briefly glanced up at the other woman when she spoke, smiling and tickling her claws lightly over the grey cat's rump. "No need t' apologize. Nice t' meet ya, Macha."

She hadn't heard the kitten talk and so didn't know whether she could, but growing up with Meerclar and Abbott in the pack, Willow tended to address cats as equals—just in case.

"Hope I en't disturbin' you," the Cormier added, glancing at the charcoal in her hand, the collection of paper sheets balanced against her knees. She rubbed behind Macha's ear, about to joke that she could take the kitten off her hands if she needed the peace, but up close with the cat, she could smell other wolves and dogs on her fur.

"Hm." Willow cocked her head. "You live 'round here? Smell like folk I know."


I took the time to breathe
Among the rootbuds and the weeds
But the peat moss and the leaves took turns with both my feet
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Raze
Luperci Piscator I, Priest I druid the wilds where the caribou call They stole my dirty socks... :(

POSTED: Sat Jul 13, 2019 10:31 pm

The woman knew exactly where to scratch Macha's itch, and the kitten instantly melted into her coveted touch, purring in contentment and rolling around as the long-haired stranger ran her claws across her fur pleasurably. The creature mewed at her name, pawing at the lady gleefully as she parroted her words: "Macha! Macha!" Again she writhed and rubbed against her, in total uninterrupted bliss.

Fennore, having been momentarily forgotten in the revelry, snorted at the woman's apology. "Not at all. We welcome company." Even if there was a bit of stretching to that truth, she was not one to turn away a conversation.

Curiously, the blue-eyed gal seemed to recognize her scent. The Moonwraith paused for a moment, balancing the charcoal pencil between her fingers before she answered. "I reside in New Caledonia," she offered, eyes slanting just slightly. "Do you know of it?" For her part, this girl seemed entirely unfamiliar — but anything was possible, she supposed.

"I am Fennore. Who are you?" It was short and sweet, but of course not at all impolite. She subtly sniffed the air as well, as if that would help her gain some insight on her; but it too was beyond her.

ooc → ahh you're fine <3


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POSTED: Mon Jul 29, 2019 3:46 pm

Mewling her name, Macha puddled around the delighted Cormier woman, who indulged her in more scritches, even if just to offer the crook of a finger for the grey kitten to rub her cheek against again and again. Utterly charmed, she took a moment to recognize that the white wolf was speaking again, though that whiff of familiar scent redirected her focus. When she looked up, the other loner—Fennore, she introduced herself shortly—was watching her through slightly narrowed eyes: suspicious, perhaps, or guarded; but not rude.

Willow smiled in her usual way: open, empathetic, genial. She found that her innocent expression often settled people's nerves—not that it was meant to manipulate. She wanted others to feel at ease because she meant no harm. Yeah, I know it. Or a li'l bit, at least. Met Athras a while back, 'n he taught me a little. She flushed, though it wouldn't be evident through her thick fur. Met Iomair, too. I visited the camp but I don't think I saw ya there. She had been preoccupied with other things, though, first the king's tour and then the lord's attentions.

I'm Will'a Cormier.


I took the time to breathe
Among the rootbuds and the weeds
But the peat moss and the leaves took turns with both my feet
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Raze
Luperci Piscator I, Priest I druid the wilds where the caribou call They stole my dirty socks... :(

POSTED: Mon Aug 05, 2019 6:28 pm

She had seen others enchanted by the small gray kitten time and time again; it was as if Macha possessed some unearthly charm to her that utterly bewitched anyone with half a heart. In a weird, childish way Fennore was jealous of her. Back in her clan she had this sort of aura to her as well, and suitors often crowded at her family's door just to catch a glimpse of her.

Presumably, Luperci in this region were not so desperate nor floored by her peculiarities. After all, she had seen far more exotic colors and pelts here than in her backwards clan anyhow.

"Ah, Lord Eryn, I see," she mused aloud, a hidden cynicism in her tone. If she met Athras there was really no telling what kind of impression of New Caledonia this woman had, but perhaps the druid had not been too harsh or particular in his recounting of their history. "I must have been away; I tend to wander." Otherwise she would have noticed a stranger, surely; there weren't that many in their camp, even as they had grown. She could remember faces well, and this one was new.

Another vague nod, and she placed the pencil on the ground before it stained her fingers too terribly. "Well met, Willow Cormier." She stood to face her and cleared her throat before continuing: "And what did you think of all of it, if I may ask? Of Athras, Iomair, the camp."

ooc → <3


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