ORIGIN - young london

Pages: 1 2

The horse tilted his thin head, listening to the black... ugly-cat? He eyed her briefly over with his glowing eyes; she was certainly furry, with... ears, and legs. He thought cats had those? And she had large, round eyes, which seemed catlike enough. But somehow, she didn't look like a cat, to him. Maybe he was wrong--he certainly had not seen many cats.

He glanced up at the cow and caribou, warming a little more toward Amalthea as she danced around and tossed her head and legs about. The cow creature was speaking, too, and that was good. Satisfied that all was well, he looked back at the ugly-cat.

"My name is Khloros. And magic is... powers. My friend Booker can grow mushrooms. Nemesis, she is fire. I have--this. Many tiny friends."

He flicked pale eyes over the ugly-cat, opening the eyes within himself, trying to sense and see her own life force, any little tiny creatures inside of her. His gaze travelled over her body again, this time not seeing black fur but the white buzz of myriad life within her.

She seems... healthy.

"Your friends seem healthy." He looked up, pale eyes glimmering, the white buzz fading from his sight.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

((ooc Kay, if Cayenne is ill, or has anything 'off' or unusual about her bacteria/virus/etc levels, just let me know and I will edit! You weren't online :) ))

@Amalthea @Caravaggio

The young, gangly elk responded with a series of words which first confused the young cow. He stared at her with wide eyes, still riding out the residual shock of spewing a noise completely foreign to him, but he rolled the sounds she made around in his head. They held some meaning to them, or they must have, or else she wouldn't have said them. Then she ducked down and started to prance around him, and he found himself envying her mobility. He wanted to move around like that! He wanted to talk and he wanted to dance like her, and so consumed by his desire, the calf snorted and raised his heavy head and made a lunge in an attempt to suddenly stand, but it backfired because he only ended up rocking forward then flopping back on the ground with a loud OOF!

Why couldn't he walk? But just as he had failed, he saw her stumble. The clumsiness of her hooves had sobered her slightly and drew her back to him, and the cow watched with eyes ever widening, always, so drawn by her antics he needed to participate. For the moment, the black lemur and the plague horse were forgotten. "HEH! HEH!" He bleated excitedly, lashing his tail before attempting to unfold his limbs. His first unanticipated action, another jolt of excitement spawned by his desire to stand, resulted in one of his front legs thumping on the ground. He'd noticed this, and repeated with his other front leg. They were now both splayed out in front of him, and he tried to place them in the mud and stand, but he didn't have the strength. He didn't realize that he needed his back legs to cooperate.

Falling back on the ground, he cast a reproachful stare at the youth and his lip trembled.

@Amalthea @Cayenne @Khloros

She stared up at the big one, Khloros, in confusion. "Many...friends?" She asked softly. What did that even mean? Did he think that the disease and its open wounds were his friends?

She shivered. That seemed a dangerous way to think. If that were the case, one would never want to heal from such pustulent wounds. Khloros spoke again, looking her over, and she shivered again, more violently, looking herself over, touching her fur, searching for open sores. "I have friends?!" She rasped, turning her head to look over her backside, panicking. "No! I don't want friends!"

When she finally stopped looking herself over and knew for a fact that she had no wounds other than the scratches she inflicted on herself with her stone, she looking back up at the giant Khloros, letting out a long breath. "You don't mean friends as in wounds, do you? You mean something else, something that we can't see."

She still didn't know what magic was, but...she would love to find out. But Khloros remained stubbornly silent on the matter, simply looking her over. She huffed, and turned to look at the big new giant who Amalthea was playing with. She noticed the youngest, the big one, trying to get up, and its sad expression when he found he could not.

"Be strong," She said to him. "You can do it."

@Caravaggio

The diseased horse regarded the not-cat for a time, still pondering what she was. She said an "ugly cat" and while he was willing enough to accept it after having looked her over, it didn't quite ring true. Still, she wasn't lying, he felt. It didn't matter, anyway; she was turning back away, encouraging the lumbering, stumbling calf nearby.

With a soft blow of air through flared nostrils, the colt stalked over toward Caravaggio, eyeing him over. The calf was struggling to stand, and seemed rather distraught, almost... bleating; and while Khloros felt oddly detached--still quite aloof and cold after the events with Louie and Booker--still he felt he should help. Or rather, he wanted to, but not out of any great emotion. It was an odd feeling, and he decided to think about it later. For now, the calf clearly needed aid.

"You can stand, but don't panic. You don't need to rush. It's safe, here," he explained. At least, he assumed it was. If not, surely there were enough of them here to fight off a threat; the calf had plenty of time to learn to stand. He himself stood motionless, almost more a statue than a beast, trying to make the point that everything was calm and non-urgent.

"We will look after you while you learn to stand. Can you understand?" he asked. To another adult, his lack of apparent emotional concern, despite his obvious intent to help, might have seemed disturbing; but to a baby, perhaps, it might seem reassuring. After all, he was an older thing, and he didn't seem worried. Or, at least, that's how he hoped he'd seem.

Still keeping deliberately very calm, he folded up his own long legs and lay down in the mud a little bit away from the calf, demonstrating that there was nothing to be concerned about.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

@Caravaggio

For a while, he very much considered just laying there and giving up. His life at that point would have been fleeting. He would have come and gone, like catching a fleeting glimpse of a dry leaf spinning in the air as it passes by a window. A single breath in the lifetime of the world, but not even that - a hiccup, a subtle exhalation, phlegm catching in the throat. Then he would be gone. He considered this for a great long while as the black lemur thing gently encouraged him and the nasty plague horse spoke, strange voice first coaxing him to take his time. Listen, understand. It didn't matter how gently he spoke though, his mere presence was setting the cow into anxiety. It was then he decided that he couldn't accept giving up here. He had to get away from the plague horse.

He let his heavy head hang down again, examining the filth into which he was stuck. The placental fluids of the chrysalis, once slicking his short hair down, had since dried upon exposure to the air. It made him feel stiff, and the mud below just made him feel worse. It was thick, wet, sticky. Bad. He grunted and looked back up at the lemur thing. Be strong, she told him. What did strong even mean? The cow frowned ever so slightly. He lifted one limb - it was still really heavy, but he focused. Once the hoof was dug into the viscous substrate, he raised the other and did the same. Both front hooves settled in the mud. Then, he braced his hind legs, and he pushed. He was surprised to find himself lifting his torso above the ground and now that it was out of the mud, he wanted to keep it that way.

Pushing, struggling to stay aloft, he nearly slipped. But he caught himself before he went crashing into the mud again, bleating cautiously. With a snort, he managed to fully extend his front limbs. Then he did the same with his hind legs. He wobbled a few times; his body was heavy and hard to balance, but after a few minutes, he finally did it. He was standing. "MEH!" He huffed excitedly, looking up at the lemur thing with a lash of his tail and a wide smile. But his hooves were beginning to sink in the mud, quick to diminish his delight. "WEH! S-S-SSS-- EEEWW!!" The cow suddenly wailed loudly, staring helplessly at the black lemur. What could he do?!

@Cayenne

With a glance towards Khloros and their calm words, she nodded and moved towards the giant and where Amalthea stood, watching on. Those words were rational and easy, and if she was younger and only had those words to go on, she felt like they would soothe her. Clearly the new giant didn't agree with her, looking at Khloros with disdain.

When she was close to the giant, she petted its fur, a strange texture against her sensitive hand - like some slick substance had dried on it - and she remembered how strangely wet she was when she emerged, her fur standing on all ends, making her look like a wild, hideous child. She felt sympathy with it. It was completely uncomfortable, and she had felt the raging desire to wash her self off as soon as she could.

....Right as she did, though, she had to tend with her own disgusting reflection, and after she got herself clean, she avoided bathing or reflections as much as she possible could, barring keeping her hands clean.

the giant listened to the both of them and tried to lift themselves from the mud, one leg at a time, struggling, almost falling, letting out childish grunts, and both she and Khloros watched patiently as the giant made it, making happy sounds, and she patted them, saying, "Yes, you did it! There you go, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

When the giant started to sink in the mud, she let out a quick 'ah', covered by a more confidant, "No, it's okay, it's okay, keep trying - it's just mud, it won't hurt you. It may be gross and icky, but it won't hurt you. Just take a few steps, there, come this way, that's it," She said, moving in front of the giant, beckoning them, keeping eye contact. "It's okay, it won't hurt you, I promise,"

@Khloros

The calf was sinking.

That was the first thing he noticed.

The second was that it seemed to be disgusted--by him, or by its situation, he couldn't quite tell. He felt only the briefest flutter of--what was it? Shame? Embarrassment? Grief? He wasn't even sure; it was here and gone like a moth in the dark, touching and vanished, before he could even process it. What was left was his regular self: aloof, brokenly distant.

He stepped forward.

If the calf didn't take comfort from his words, but disgust in his presence--if even it was he who disgusted him--then he would use that. He couldn't be allowed to sink, or he might get stuck, and a young one so large might be difficult to move again.

So, somewhat on impulse, Khloros slowly approached, lowering his long neck so that he seemed to almost stalk toward the calf from the side, circling around behind him.

He listened to Cayenne encouraging, flicking an ear toward her to listen. She was kind, and he bet she was warm. That was the third thing he noticed--but it was vague, and distant, and unimportant to getting the calf to move. He turned his attention back to Caravaggio.

"That way," Khloros encouraged gently, the words kind, but his actions were his insurance. If the calf didn't listen to them and head toward dryer ground, he'd try to scare him that way--but slowly, he had to move slowly.

The last thing he wanted was for Caravaggio to slip in fear and tumble back down, so he kept himself at a distance--but he made his intentions clear. If the cow didn't move, then eventually, Khloros would touch him.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

@Caravaggio

In that brief moment, he had forgotten about the plague horse. His panic was rising, his heart palpitating furiously in his chest, his eyes staring hopelessly at the lemur thing. Quietly they begged for help - he wasn't ready to give up anymore! He wasn't ready to give in and let this mud swallow him whole! He didn't want to die! But she didn't seem as worried as he was. In fact, she looked confident, speaking gently to him and attempting to coax him to move forward. She described the mud the only way that he could really associate to it. "G-G-GROSS.... ICKY...." He huffed in between dry, frightened sobs. Yes, that was what this mud stuff was! It was gross and icky! Exactly! Very good. Now that he made that distinction, all he had to do was get out of it. She was moving around in front of him, keeping eye contact and trying to get him to move.

He tried - he raised one hoof, but as soon as he did, the other hoof began to sink in further. He could feel the wet mud siding up his skin, dampening it, covering it with nasty blacky-brownness. The cow wailed again, returning his hoof to the ground in an attempt to pull the other out, but really only ended up sinking them both even further. No no! This wasn't going how he wanted it to! This was the opposite of what he wanted! The cow hesitated, frightened to make any more attempts.

Until he noticed the plague horse had moved. He was no longer where the cow remembered him being. Alarmed, he swung his head, searching, and found the pustule green-black creature lingering behind him. His eyes widened with fear and he nearly hadn't heard the horse's words. He was focused on the fact that the plague beast was getting closer, closer, closer still. "Ehhh... ahhh,,HHH...AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" He couldn't take it. He could practically feel the sickness rolling off of that horse, he could feel it crawling under his skin and into his pores - was that a tickle in his throat?! Was he getting sick?!

He let loose another frantic bleat and with his skin crawling, he finally moved forward. He took one sloppy step, then another, dragging himself out of the mud and onto the dry land next to the lemur thing. Only he didn't stop. Once he got going, he kept going. He didn't even bother to look back at the plague horse - as far as he was concerned, it was still behind him, it was always going to be behind him, breathing down his neck and infecting him with grossness. He just kept running, tripping, stumbling, as far away from that plague horse as he could get.

What a wonderful start.

Exit Caravaggio,,, scare man has fled the scene

@Cayenne

She nodded when the giant spoke his first words, mimicking her, and she said softly, "Yes, gross, icky, that's right. All you have to do is step out of it, like that, right - wait, no, don't - " She watched the giant raise one leg then sink further into the mud and panic and struggle, hesitating, scared.

Everything stood still except for Khloros deciding to stand and move behind the giant, peacefully telling them "That way," as if he wanted the giant to have all the time in the world to get up out of the mud and onto dry land. Cayenne watched the whole process, her hands frozen, her mouth slightly open. She wanted to say that that might not be the best idea, given that the giant was rather afraid of them, but before she could, the giant started to cry and flail, charging through the mud and away from them. She looked at Amalthea, who stood there confused and worrying about the whole ordeal, and back to the retreating giant.

"Ah-" She started, looking towards the retreating giant and back at the still Khloros, and said, "It was very nice to meet you, Khloros," with a polite bow. She really wanted to keep talking to them, to understand what they meant by 'friends', but the giant was more important. "Come on, Amalthea," She called climbing onto her and asking her politely to follow the giant. Surely they couldn't have gotten too far.

[exit Cayenne]

@khloros

Khloros inclined his head faintly to Cayenne. He would have spoken further--would have offered a farewell of some kind--but she was already off, after the calf. Maybe that was for the best; the cow obviously was young and afraid, and his own contribution had merely been to scare him off. Maybe that was for the best, too--it had certainly gotten him out of the grasping mud--but Khloros knew that he had no more part to play.

Left alone, he stepped quietly forward to sniff over where the cow had lain. Nostrils flared and air blew forth gently as he tested the scent; the mud smelled rank, but he took in the calf's odor, picking it out from the rest with a vague curiosity.

So that's what he smells like.

Disinterested in much else, and relatively satisfied that at least the youth wouldn't drown in mud, the plague horse turned and slowly picked his way back into the shadows of Eridanus's thick jungle.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

Exit Khloros

Pages: 1 2