[html] Set on the Shattered Coast.
Progress at Esper Hollow had been going swimmingly for the past few days — from Nikita’s short-handed viewpoint, she thought everyone was pretty happy about it. Since she had no qualms with sleeping under the stars and thought she’d bring up her own shelter when she damn well felt like it, she decided to take the evening off. She set off for the walk to the broken coastline with a somewhat interesting burden: she towed a large instrument case behind her. She had long ago fastened wheels to it due to the amount of traveling she did and how much of a burden it was, and now she hardly noticed it when she drug it around. It wasn’t strange anymore for her.
She stopped when she had gotten to where she could see, hear, and smell the ocean. Near a jagged cliff-face that dropped off to the ocean and slanted to rocky slopes to the sides, she set the rolling case down next to a few boulders and pulled the instrument and bow out of it. Leaping up on top of a boulder that fit the right height for her to be able to comfortably play, she spent a few minutes tuning and cursing colorfully to herself — the ocean air didn’t do many wonders for the fine-tuned instrument. Finally, when she was satisfied with the sound of the strings, she began to play.
Nikita had picked up the instrument about a year ago, when she had first started traveling around with Laurel and the various gypsy groups. She loved playing it and, despite her rough start at learning without much of a teacher, she had developed a certain knack for it. She was no master of it, but she believed there was some charm to whatever the hell she started to play. Now, she was simply weaving some mournful chords together before steadily blending them together to a more up-beat, cheerful tempo. She grinned, despite the look of concentration on her face. She was in her happy place — near the wide ocean with an instrument in her arms and a melody in her ears. [/html]
[html]  http://img77.imageshack.us/img77/3961/poetablebgoz6.png); background-position: center top; background-repeat: repeat; background-position: top left; width: 420px;">
Aleeex! -tackleroll-
I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
The music skimmed over the small waves like a sea bird; a wide-winged glide, catching the air currents with effortless intuition, unmoved by the world's insistent pumping of blood below these whims. It wound around the wooden sides of a small boat rocking it with its rhythm, lulling the even smaller captain away from her task at hand. It had been a long time since she had heard the hum of a stringed instrument, and it conjured memories of the times passed, when it had been commonplace, when she had played her own. It was not perfect, but it was beautiful and seductive to the girl who followed songs like stories, like paintings and heartbeats. Two lobsters squirmed in distress at her feet, caught in a weed-covered trap that she pushed away with her foot while allowing the chain connected to another spill between loosened fists, careful not to allow it to clatter against the metal rim of her vessel. The buoy dropped after it, and Poe rowed into shore with keen ears guiding her to the source she sought.
When she found it--found her more precisely, she made no attempt to hide her approach, for manners or for stealth, let alone subtlety. In a pale yellow sundress, blotched with salt water, the undersized wolf walked almost to the coyote's side, eyes on the movement of her hands, practiced fingers. The easy gait came to a standstill, and she watched with attentive ears and childish eyes.
oh, no don't close your eyes
[/html]
[html] Hannah, yaaay! I was hoping for a thread with these two. ^^
She was somewhat startled when she saw the dark shape materialize from one of the rocky slopes that came up to the little point where she was playing. She had to assume from that that the wolf had come from the ocean — or from this rough shore someplace — and had come to investigate the noise. There was nothing wrong with that, and, since Nikita wasn’t exactly good enough to continue playing without focusing on what she was doing, she mostly ignored her. She lapsed once more into the slower, sweeter melody that had prevailed at the beginning, though she, at intervals, weaved in several slightly dissonant chords. This went along with a small crescendo of volume and tension within the notes until she had escaped once more into the quick tune, giving the dancing beat a bit of a frantic note. Several moments later, once she had encompassed all of the melodic things she could remember playing in this song, she ended it with a harsh slash of the bow in her had across the instrument in her arms. Then, with a sigh, she flicked her olive eyes to her guest and a quick smile appeared on her narrow features.
Of the few wolves that she had met up with in this area, she… wasn’t like them. Maybe that was it — this was the first of the feminine persuasion that she had seen in this place. That, and the fact that she also wore clothing. She often found it amusing how different she and Laurel looked amongst their crowd, but this wolf seemed to fit right in with them. Another thing she found comfort in was that she wasn’t quite as tall as the others, drifting among the smaller stature that Nikita shared with Jasper. After her momentary appraisal, she murmured a rough and slightly embarrassed, “Hey.” Some said a musician could never fully get used to having an audience. [/html]
[html] http://img77.imageshack.us/img77/3961/poetablebgoz6.png); background-position: center top; background-repeat: repeat; background-position: top left; width: 420px;">
Niiice avatar. :O
I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
Poe followed the tune, and with it, the nimble, fine-fingered dance of the coyote's hand across the neck of her instrument. Since Jeck, so long ago, Poe had been deeply charmed, nearly hypnotized by the sight and sound of a stringed instrument being played. The way that a musician could get so wrapped up, with their whole body supporting and following the movement of knowing fingers and hands as they sounded out a universal language. That boy, two summers back, had taught her how to do it herself, and while she couldn't compare to his own skill (or this enveloped lady before her), she held her own and appreciated what it could tell her body. More than anything, it made had made her want to dance. Had she not of been so captivated by the fingers that played this growing melody, she might have done just that now, but it held her attention up to the very last, strong strum.
They exchanged smiles immediately, and Poe decided on the spot that she liked this girl. Her coyote features were delicate and demanding of careful attention at the same time, even under the almost bashful gaze. "That was beautiful," she said in place of a greeting, attention still stolen by the sight and sound in place of manners and formalities.
oh, no don't close your eyes
[/html]
[html] Thanks! I’ve been admiring yours intermittently as well. 
Nikita grinned in a slightly nervous fashion, rubbing the back of her head with a hand that still held the bow for the instrument. She didn’t handle praise well at all — personally she felt that she wasn’t deserving of it. “Uh, thanks.” She always had such perfect manners! She put the bow in her lap, swiveling the cello on its thin stand so that it could lean much more comfortably against one propped-up knee. She sighed, grateful to be in a position slightly more comfortable than before. She was quiet for a moment, her olive gaze on the dark-furred wolf before her, before she flicked her eyes towards the place where she imagined the wolf had come from. “You came from the beach?” she said absent-mindedly, fashioning the statement into a question mid-way through. It made sense, with the scent of salt-water that accompanied hers, and yet she wondered what she was doing against the shore here. She had gotten a view a while back — there was barely any sand, only rocks. A perfect place to get smashed against the rocks if one wasn’t careful. [/html]
[html] http://img77.imageshack.us/img77/3961/poetablebgoz6.png); background-position: center top; background-repeat: repeat; background-position: top left; width: 420px;">
I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
The coyote's shyness surrounding her talent was endearing, and might later prove to be entertaining when Poe would come to see her spitfire angles. She smiled warmly to the reply while Nikita maneuvered her instrument into a more comfortable position. It was rare (unheard of by Poe's ears) to see someone skilled and loyal to such a cumbersome instrument--it took a dedication and inconvenience that none of the musicians she had previously met would offer up for their trade. A thought that came without criticism, particularly with the memory of her own poor care of a light little fiddle--only months into her ownership, and it bobbled off overt he horizon (along with her friends and family, more unfortunately) to Europe without her. Responsibility and dedication were not Poe's top skills, and the evident contrast that this coyote presented in an instant was admirable.
Her attention strayed from the intriguing pair of musician and instrument with a couple of words, and she followed the girl's glance with a nod. "I was pulling up my pirate booty from the ocean floor when a siren's song called me inland," she explained, perfectly serious in tone, and casual in gaze. It was only a small flourish on reality, next to the silliness she often went off on. "Any lesser pirate would have crashed into rocky doom, as the tales go. But you can rest assure that I'm no ordinary pirate," she said with a deep bow, punctuated by a quick quirk of her lips at its depth, further betraying her level tone. When she returned to her (less-than impressive) full height, her eyes were thinned with a smile that did not touch her lips.
oh, no don't close your eyes
[/html]
[html] http://i275.photobucket.com/albums/jj31 ... sts/t4.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Oh, she’d gotten the whole ‘why the hell do you haul that thing around?’ discussion before. Many, many times. Most musicians liked to keep instruments that were easy at hand — violins, fiddles, banjos, flutes, small drums, and everything else in between. Nikita not only wanted to be a tinier bit different when it came to her instrument pursuit, but, around two years ago, she had first heard the sound of a cello and fallen in love with it. There was something… different about the instrument that was particularly interesting. And, since then, she had gotten her own and never let it rest behind her. Her devotion towards it was enough that she had hammered wheels onto the heavy plastic case, so, surely, it was a bit more than just a small hobby for her.
The coyote watched the wolf with vague amusement as she spoke, the tip of her tail twitching behind her. “Of course. No normal pirates would sail these dangerous waters,” she said, her quick olive gaze darting out over the ocean. She could plainly hear the rasp of the waves crashing on the rocky cliffs, and didn’t doubt her own words in the least. “So, with what degree of a pirate you are, you must have gotten your hands on some pretty good treasure.” Her eyes glimmered with an unspoken joke as she paused to see what the response of the dark-furred wolf would be.
[/html]
[html] http://img77.imageshack.us/img77/3961/poetablebgoz6.png); background-position: center top; background-repeat: repeat; background-position: top left; width: 420px;">
I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
It was genuinely gutsy of her to sail about these shores, but she had spent a large portion of the last few months finding a few key locations in the rugged landscape, for both her traps as well as her boat. Not without a few bumps and bruises, to the boat and her own body, but the result left her small vessel nestled comfortably on between two sloping rocks that were protected by one of the many miniature islands only a small ways offshore. A year at sea had taught her a number of things, but she hadn't expected docking to be one of the most useful ones.
"Incredible treasure," she confirmed with a slow, knowing nod. "Crusty rabbits of the sea," she noted, remembering a similar euphemism written on a number of tins she had found stored in homes, containing fish of some sort. "They're plentiful in these parts, and far more entertaining to cook up." The scream had startled her the first time she had cooked a lobster herself, but the ordeal had become a slightly morbid, but entertaining game to her. It wasn't like they didn't fight back at her, anyway.
As if suddenly remembering that there was such thing as manners and names, Poe suddenly rolled a hand out to Nikita with a toothy smile. "I'm Poe D'Angelo, by the way. Pink Pirate Bootypants on the high seas, but just Poe by land." Where she pulled that one from, no one knows.
oh, no don't close your eyes
[/html]
[html] http://i275.photobucket.com/albums/jj31 ... sts/t4.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
With, strangely, a limited knowledge of the sea and all the creatures that lived in it, she could only wonder what the dark-furred wolf really meant when she described the treasures she had harvested from the sandy seafloor. Something told her it wasn’t fish, and she was just guessing either crab or lobster when the stranger mentioned them being entertaining to cook up. A slightly dark grin spread across Nikita’s features as she knew that it was probably the latter — she had heard stories of lobsters and how they would yelp and howl when you put them into boiling water.
Her mind was already wandering down the path of wondering how well Jasper could throw together some lobster stew (if he was well enough to cook at all, that was), when manners seemed to dawn on the wolf. Nikita chuckled at her introduction, taking her hand and shaking it. “It’s very nice to meet you, Poe,” the coyote said, using the last name stated because they were, of course, on land. If they ever got out to sea, though, she’d have to remember to call her Cap’n Bootypants of the high seas. “I’m Nikita Eirisa, a member of a little group settled at Esper’s Hollow not too far from here.” She retrieved her hand, slipping her instrument to where it safely rested against the rock and freed her to stand — therefore she did so. She stretched lightly, speaking as she did so, “I decided to get out and see the sea today, and thought I might as well take my music with me.” Hey, a cello might not be as convenient to carry around as an iPod, but it was pretty effective nonetheless!
[/html]
[html] http://img77.imageshack.us/img77/3961/poetablebgoz6.png); background-position: center top; background-repeat: repeat; background-position: top left; width: 420px;">
:||| I suck so hard. I am like one of those algae-eating fish. I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
"Nikita Eirisa," Poe repeated, rolling the word over her tongue and allowing it to settle into her skull as their hands locked and pumped. A little feisty, a little exotic with a pleasant flow, the coyote's name began to grow roots of meaning and association, as names had a way of doing. She had spoken with a seemingly lost boy in a ghastly forest of such things once upon a time.
Poe continued to smile with a pleased ease at the Nikita, nodding. "I've always thought that the ocean had a kind of innate appreciation for music," she said idly, glancing out over the gentle arch of oceanic horizon stretching out to one side of the pair. "It's got it's down beat, its conductors and singers. And it's as moody as your typical artist, too." Her attention turned from there without pause, back to Nikita's angled features. "So you're new to these parts?"
oh, no don't close your eyes
[/html]
No, you don't. I suck worse. :b
[html] http://i275.photobucket.com/albums/jj32 ... /nikt1.png); background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Nikita smiled in amusement to Poe’s created analogy betwixt the sea and the many aspects of music and its performers, her olive eyes glancing out towards the gray-blue sea and back to the dark-hued wolf as she changed topics soon thereafter. Nikita nodded, not thinking that sharing this information with Poe to be dangerous in the least. “That’s right. Laurel and I rolled in a few days ago, and pretty randomly met up with one of his old friends. They got around to talking, and a few days later, we were setting up camp a little ways away from here in Esper Hollow.” The tale was rather silly and strange in its own ways — usually, packs or groups or whatever they were were usually planned out in advance and meticulously made sure to be strong enough to stand up against to other packs lingering around. At least, that’s how she remembered things. Here, however, they simply set up shop and some others had rolled around to their front door, asking to stay with the new pack…
She turned her green gaze once more to the similar one of Poe, making sure she didn’t sink into thoughts long enough to allow the conversation to sizzle out. “And you?” She didn’t think that Poe was particularly new to this place, but it would surely be interesting to see how her history had taken her to this place.
 [/html]
|
