Biggest darn catch I've ever seen!

Attikias's has been... doing things. Totally. Just.. normal things. He wasn't one to really get bored while crafting his own gallery, his little projects always branching out. More projects meant more chores, more chores meant less projects. The unending cycle was enough to occupy him.

Interruptions weren't uncommon, whether they be from family coming to visit or some change in his routine; this one was a little disruptive, though. For little over a week, his fish traps have come up mangled, the dirt broken to where they could just swim right through, the woven nets tangled up and not reset. It's not a rare one-off, there's enough predatory lessers that'd try this, but consistently? Either something was learning or he was being fucked with.

It was frustrating all the same, having to get new nets and set it all back up, to the point that he'd kept a little toolkit in his bag when he'd go out to check for dinner. He's not sure what he expected; was Aethril messing with him again? Probably not. She had better things to do, he'd hoped. Surely she didn't want to bother him. It'd probably be some bat, or rat, or snake, or something else that'd decided to tear through everything. It was certainly active now, whatever it is, because he's already had to reset the traps he's passed by so far.

His next trap had a visitor. Hunching, green, bent down and doing something to the cubby meant to trap those fish. Were they eating it..? "Hey!" Melody flitted off of him as he shouted and lifted his shoulders. "What're you doing?" He shouldn't have been so mad, but he couldn't keep his tail from lashing, slight frustration thinning his lips while he paced towards the offender. "Don't mess with that!"

"Hey!" is all that's needed to get the interloper's attention. Anything past that is just courtesy spared to a child that hasn't actually really even conceived of such a thing yet.

Like a question that has a very obvious answer when Plover finishes startling long enough to whirl around on all sixes and fix dark, beady eyes onto Attikias with enough speed to flash their whites: Tearing open his traps and eating all of the fish that don't manage to scatter back out in time, as evidenced by full cheeks and the fish tail still sticking out of xir mouth when xe looks at him.

There's a moment, then, where Plover looks, and xe considers the features before xem. Upright, maybe missing a pair of arms, handy-dandy like someone who could build something so delicate over and over—

Xe blinks wetly, and then glances at the trap and xir own dirt-encrusted and wet forearms that has all of the evidence of xir alleged crimes on them, and bares shark-like teeth in an awkward grin and lowers xir ears and tail with guilty admission— "MMm—" Oh, right. Fish in mouth. A spirited slurp puts the rest of the fish away, and xe gulps down the other fish-mass stuffed into xir cheeks with a quiet, "Blegh."

"UHHHMMMMMMMM," Plover drones without inside voice, having clearly already spent all that time thinking on it and drooping in place with every prolonged moment of the noise before— PLEASE SAY NO. PLEASE, PLEASE— "... WERE THOSE ALL YOURS..?" I BROKE SO MANY OF THOSE!!

Xe's guilty. Just from the reaction, xe's guilty, but at least they don't seem very proud of it. Xe's shrinking like a child and all Attikias can do is sigh and rub the butt of his palm into his forehead, eyes closing once he's in speaking range.

Well, speaking range for him. This guy's like Dread: heard from a mile away. "Well, they don't grow themselves." Shoulders droop away from their previous tension. On the bright side, he found the cause of all that destruction, and xe probably didn't know better, but...

Melody flitters in circles around either of them, chirping away the anxiety he's offloaded to her. Her swooping in close and chirping by his ear like a speeding bullet earned her an exasperated "Mel..." and a wave of his hand. 'Not now.' His face construes back into faint annoyance while she gets the message, flutters away and back towards the treeline to watch.

That's taken care of. With a huff more physical than vocal, Attikias plants his hands on his hips and assesses the damage. 'That's a goner.' Woe to that cubby. Xe has hands though, and they must be hungry— Attikias hasn't ever seen anything he'd classify as something big and monster-y that wasn't ravenous. Plover's obviously embarrassed, and he's not even sure if xe'd let him near xem, but he turns towards the water anyway and trudges in.

Teach a Plover to fish, and you won't get your traps broken anymore.

"Here. You're handy with your— hands?" Attikias squats down in the river's shore, gentle water soaking into his pants. The net that's already there is ripped up already, a shame, but he'll just forge on. "I'll show you how to make them. Mm... get some sticks. Long ones." Xe could find sticks much easier than a net anyway, even if it meant potentially losing out on some fish... Or, maybe he just likes the assurance.

Attikias glances up to Plover briefly and gestures off to the woods, right before leaning down and beginning to shore up mud back into a funnel. Xe could run off if xe wanted to, he's not going to chase them, but they do want more food, right? Easy fix. Plus, it'd mean he wouldn't have to make every trap by himself...

One would think, with how many times they'd miraculously reappeared and been full of fish again that— "Well, they don't grow themselves." All right, nevermind, they grow themselves, ergo YUP. THOSE WERE ALL HIS.

See, it had occurred to Plover that there might be consequences for tampering with something so clearly not a natural land feature, but— there hadn't been yet! Those horrible birds at least had the courtesy to warn something directly to not bother them. This guy..? He has nothing but a much smaller, much more appetizing-looking bird on his person, to xir knowledge; and that is security enough to pull xemself into a more upright, casual position and shuffle out of his way when he comes closer.

Beady eyes watch as he observes xir handiwork and lack thereof, ears pricking first with interest, and then dismay at the task assignment. Being shown how to make the traps instead surely must precede being asked to replace all of those; and maybe xe would anyway, with the newfound knowledge, but—

"I'VE ... NEVER TRIED TO MAKE SOMETHING BEFORE," Plover whinges dully, at an arguably more appropriate (but still loud) volume than the one xe had greeted Attikias with. Why does xe have to look for sticks? Xe would be great at making a shape of mud like that, if xe is so good at destroying lumps of mud already... "I LIKE DIGGING IN THE MUD INSTEAD..."

Yet, despite xir grousing and grumbling: The thing leans down to get a bead on what kind of a long stick xe should be looking for in the woods over in that vague yonder (WIMPY-LOOKING— OH, I COULD HIT SOMETHING ON THE HEAD WITH A STICK!! HAHA!!!); then, without any further preamble on that thought, bounds off into the brush.

A good seven or eight minutes pass before Plover makes a less than grand return, coming to squat and hunch about a foot away from Attikias, panting and depositing a small armful of young, pliable sticks. onto the riverside grass; keeping one grand specimen for xemself, and sticking that one into xir mane for safekeeping.

Licking xir lips, xe shuffles closer on xir haunches, wags xir tail and states the obvious between panting breaths, "I BROUGHT STICKS."

Xe leans in then, and continues more quietly: "Can I do mud now?"

At the very least, the beast is simple. Xe understands the assignment well enough, and with a flick of his tail, Attikias just nods and encourages them with "In a sec, sticks first."

The damage is terrible enough that he might as well start all over. It's a shame, but whatever, it'll be fine enough. Plover returns to Attikias elbow-deep in mud, dredging up a trough and utterly soaked in the healthy dirt. His poor clothes; he'll have to wash those, but they've been through worse. What he's more worried about is trying to layer on a proper wall, frowning then trying to scoot it a little bigger to get the right size.

It doesn't take long for him to notice xem, to start hauling himself up and stepping around to gather some of the sticks. 'There has to be a thousand knots in xir hair,' he idly muses as they settle in. 'Xe probably doesn't know what a brush is.' Wiping water away from his cheek and only getting himself with a streak of brown mud, Attikias shakes his head to keep his own wet hair from clinging to his nape. It's a futile effort. He's going back in anyway, gesturing to the meager wall he's started to shore up.

"You can make a trough? The idea's to get the fish trapped," he explains while kneeling into the water, gathering mud before spearing a stick near the opening he started to make. "They see the wall and start going to the pit, but they're not likely to make a sharp turn out of it once they're in there. Make those walls thick." His tongue sticks out in focus as he aims and spears at the other side. "And this is to keep the water flowing."

He bends as he talks, stooping over and beginning to make the back end more sturdy, lining the bottom with mud to keep it in place. "I don't think I've seen you around. Are you with Vargas's group?" A longer stick's deftly worn in half amidst the working. "The river over in Pegasus is probably easier to fish in. You don't have to compete with the Hellswans." Of course, that leaves xem with the question of why he's making traps here, but... convenience, alright?

Sticks first. An absolute tragedy.

Plover watches on despite the tragedy, rather carefully attentive. Xe sits all pretty and intently-focused, squatting flat on xir paws with one pair of hands on xir knees, and the other loosely held behind xir back; then immediately breaks xir posture at the first opportunity to get xir mitts dirty again.

With a blueprint shoved loosely into place, it's not hard to grasp how to dig thoughtfully. Fish are fast and annoying to catch, but they're also dumb. Dumb-dumbs that are easy to corner and totally decimate in one sitting. It's also easy to grasp how to maybe not totally trash the trap every time by practically climbing inside of it.

A clump of mud hits the rather venerable wall xe is shoring up with a SPLAT!. "WHAT'S VAR— UH, WHAT'S GUS-GROUP?" Plover packs the fibrous mass into place, then moves on without smoothing it out. A muddy hand lifts in Attikias's vague direction. "I'M..." WAIT. ONE, TWO THREE— A second hand, also fully-splayed, comes up— "THIS MANY SLEEPS OLD. I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING."

Then it's back to delighted mud-building, with a small grumble of, "I wanna EAT those birds one day..."

HMM. Speaking of eating: What doesn't make sense about the design, is... Well.

Xe pauses, turning xir head toward the open end opposite to xem and wrinkling xir muzzle with thought. "... DOESN'T THE OPEN BIT LET THE LITTLE FISHIES OUT?"

Oh. This is a baby.

Eyes widening as he continues to work, Attikias glances up to their finger-counting and things begin to click into place. Xe isn't exactly like Dread— xe's a child, and a young one at that, having fun in the mud and figuring out how the world works.

And here he is, making xem work. How cruel could he be? It's a useful lesson though, and he flicks his tail this way and that, rather pleased with himself at having someone to help. "Don't eat the birds," he warns gently, "they're owned by the Palace. Trust me, you don't want to get on their bad side." Attikias huffs distantly, a single-note laugh at that. "Vargas," and he says it slowly to enunciate properly, "his group comes through here, the Palace is kind of their boss? They're..."

His voice trails. Not that he has anything against them, and Vargas seems to think highly enough of him, but he doesn't really have anything to say about them. "Hm. They're harsh? Tough. They're fine, just... a little much. I wouldn't worry too much about them." Good enough. He leaves that there, knee-walking once he's finished with the sticks and shaping up the remnants of the last funnel.

Fishing is a more practical thing, one he can more easily explain. "Fish aren't really smart. They don't like to make turns, so they just kind of go forward. But look." One finger trails through the water, tracing the path a fish might take and swirling it in the trap. "They see this bit and they'll turn away. They don't realize there's a hole there 'cause they've already swam forward." Satisfied, Attikias hauls himself up to stand, soaked to the bone. "Bvv." Always an uncomfortable feeling.

Planting his hands on his hips, he judges their handiwork, tail-tip still flicking. "Are you still hungry? I've got some better food than raw fish, as long as you don't mind waiting."

In the defense of manual labor, Plover is feeling thoroughly enriched by the project, even if xe is feeling equally as disappointed to know that the so-called Hellswans are likely permanently off-limits, revenge or not. Xe especially doesn't care to scout out the palace now, knowing that the fucking things aren't just pests. BLEH!

"Var-guhs," xe repeats after him for posterity, having to stop for a moment to commit all xir brainpower to retaining it. Obviously, the name's important and worth mentioning— and xe will probably forget it in a few sleeps, if xe doesn't have to worry too much about them. Never mind on all that nodding along to show that xe was listening ...

Except for the part where fish really are just too dumb to just turn around and swim back out. Plover'll hold on to that. "THAT'S WHY SOME OF THEM WERE SO SLOW..." xe huffs, taking a victorious nod for xemself and comprehension. "SLEEPY FROM SWIMMING IN CIRCLES!"

(An observation which is actually a point against xem in the court case of "not knowing any better" about ruining every trap, but—)

Attikias stands up and shivers, leaving Plover for a moment to stare up at him; xir head is tilted like a dog, wondering WE'RE DONE? So soon? HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN, ACTUALLY—? Maybe a few minutes. Plover turns back to the restored trap. It does look about like the others had. Xe will make the rounds to fix the others, too—

No xe won't.

In continuance of the dog comparison, Plover lights up at the mention of food. "M'ALWAYS HUNGRY! AND PLOVER!" Lurching up from the river with xir tail wagging a mile a minute and flinging water off its oily coat into every direction, xe levels Attikias with xir most hopeful stare and raised, muddy fists of thinly-veiled excitement. "THERE'S BETTER FOOD THAN THE FISHIES?!"

The point of them just naturally being slow doesn't make it out of his mouth. Plover's logic is so, so endearing, and Attikias can't help but laugh a little at it. "Actually, I don't know if fish sleep..?" He mumbles his musing, a brief look of concentration on his face before he lets it go.

Fish are left to the wayside at Attikias's suggestion. Hungry Plover is bound to explode with excitement, and Attikias builds off of it, nodding and padding out the tension. "Just one thing." Pause for effect. "Cooked fishies." His smirk makes him look like he just told xem a secret, and maybe he did; not everyone cooks their meals, but it does bring out the flavors. Not that everyone can eat cooked meals. Plover... probably can.

"C'mon. Let's see if any of the other traps worked." If xe didn't break them all... If xe did, then he'll just have to find something else to cook. And he has other traps too anyway; actually, maybe bringing Plover around to the other traps might not be that great of an idea. "Have you ever had rabbit?"

Pointedly, Attikias starts heading away from the river, pinching at his clothes like it'll help get the water out. Ugh, water. "We'll check if the traps got anything and I'll check the river later to see if there's fish." He could just bring his spear out, but first thing's first. "For now, can you look at the paths—" Xe won't know what he's talking about, hold on. "Actually, just keep an eye out for any Lessers that aren't bugs. They don't cook very well."

The excitement is indeed dialed-up to the nines with that dramatic pause, and though Plover doesn't immediately explode with tension, xe does deflate just a little bit with confusion; beady eyes narrowed, muddy fists loosening. "WHAT'S 'COOKED'? THAT'S NOT A COLOR." All of the fish that xe had been stealing from the traps? Those had been colored! Silver and blue were xir favorites— SO HUNGRY... Maybe "cooked" is as yummy as those, if Attikias has that good of taste with the same favorites...

Even confused, Plover's tail keeps wagging, and xe plods along after xir impromptu mentor for all things food with no dampened amount of enthusiasm, answering with "NOPE" about rabbits (NO IDEA WHAT THOSE ARE!) and lamenting the move away from the river with a befuddled grumble, "I DIDN'T BREAK ALL OF THEM... MAYBE WE COULD STILL GET FISH NOW..."

Xe wants more fish. But, xe also wants to know what "cooked" is, and what "rabbits" is, and other such things, and Attikias has given xem another task to focus on. Which, xe would, if xe didn't have more to say, mostly to the tune of: "I LIKE EATING BUGS... FAT WORMS TASTE THE BEST."