10-04-2009, 10:16 PM
[html]ooc: October 4th is a full moon, so "Harvest Moon" for the Oct. game challenge, lots of posting. ;P
The sun had already sunk below the horizon, the deep reds and violets of the autumn sunset feathering into indigo. There was still ambient light washing the leaf-covered ground, though, radiating from the gold-dipped full moon. It was what they called a "blood moon", wasn't it? Slay watched the decidedly red disc with curiosity, his ice-pale eyes only partly obscured by the shaggy hair of his werewolf mane. He had seen these red moons before, but only in the fall months. He was trying to remember the significance that his superstitious birth pack had attributed to the red moon... Was it good hunting? They certainly didn't have anything to harvest, up in the frigid north.
With a derisive snort, the lumbering werewolf returned to what he was doing. His broad-shouldered frame loomed above the trellises of the vineyard, their spiraling vines reaching playfully to catch on his elbows and tail as he walked down the unkempt rows. Since the autumnal equinox had already passed - along with his birthday - the grapes were ready to harvest. And thanks to the shining light of the full moon, he could do so in the cover of night. He grasped the ends of an old burlap sack between his claws, plucking the plump wild grapes with his teeth and dropping them into his bag. It was his own private harvest celebration. He would save the best to surprise his mate - did Cercelee eat grapes? He had no idea, really, she was usually a dyed-in-wool carnivore. He had found a family of quail to satisfy that aspect, too.
But for now, alone with the harvest moon, Slay emerged from the tangled vines triumphantly swinging his sack of grapes. These were for his own midnight snack. He liked the sweetness of fruit - and honey, but he dared not tempt the bees again like he had during the summer. He knew his eating habits were odd - fish and fruit were his favorites, rather than the standard rabbits and deer - but everything about the male was odd, he knew that much. His fur, his eyes, his sleeping pattern, his oversized werewolf form, etc etc. As long as Cercelee was okay with it, he would try not to let it bother him so much. Tonight was set aside for welcoming the new season, grape style! He felt a small twinge of sadness, though - he had promised Catalyst de Sadira that when the grapes were ready in the fall, he would share them with her. But she had left with her siblings, and he was picnicking solo instead...
The sun had already sunk below the horizon, the deep reds and violets of the autumn sunset feathering into indigo. There was still ambient light washing the leaf-covered ground, though, radiating from the gold-dipped full moon. It was what they called a "blood moon", wasn't it? Slay watched the decidedly red disc with curiosity, his ice-pale eyes only partly obscured by the shaggy hair of his werewolf mane. He had seen these red moons before, but only in the fall months. He was trying to remember the significance that his superstitious birth pack had attributed to the red moon... Was it good hunting? They certainly didn't have anything to harvest, up in the frigid north.
With a derisive snort, the lumbering werewolf returned to what he was doing. His broad-shouldered frame loomed above the trellises of the vineyard, their spiraling vines reaching playfully to catch on his elbows and tail as he walked down the unkempt rows. Since the autumnal equinox had already passed - along with his birthday - the grapes were ready to harvest. And thanks to the shining light of the full moon, he could do so in the cover of night. He grasped the ends of an old burlap sack between his claws, plucking the plump wild grapes with his teeth and dropping them into his bag. It was his own private harvest celebration. He would save the best to surprise his mate - did Cercelee eat grapes? He had no idea, really, she was usually a dyed-in-wool carnivore. He had found a family of quail to satisfy that aspect, too.
But for now, alone with the harvest moon, Slay emerged from the tangled vines triumphantly swinging his sack of grapes. These were for his own midnight snack. He liked the sweetness of fruit - and honey, but he dared not tempt the bees again like he had during the summer. He knew his eating habits were odd - fish and fruit were his favorites, rather than the standard rabbits and deer - but everything about the male was odd, he knew that much. His fur, his eyes, his sleeping pattern, his oversized werewolf form, etc etc. As long as Cercelee was okay with it, he would try not to let it bother him so much. Tonight was set aside for welcoming the new season, grape style! He felt a small twinge of sadness, though - he had promised Catalyst de Sadira that when the grapes were ready in the fall, he would share them with her. But she had left with her siblings, and he was picnicking solo instead...