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CAVE STATUS
QUESTS/EVENTS
Torrential downpours cause localized flooding and many upset cats. Along with these frequent rain, from gentle drizzles to heavy rainfall, there seems to be a flux of Magicka drawn in particular to water sources. Occasional jet streams of warm air make narrower tunnels harder to navigate. On occasion, the rain intensifies, becoming howling storms with sleet or large hail. However, the temperatures overall are a little warmer, with snow and ice in temperate caves somewhat receding.
Aug 30 2015, 03:57 PM (This post was last modified: Aug 30 2015, 04:04 PM by Mercy.)
MAGICKA LEVEL 100% RESTORED TO 100%
Beast listened intently, the fear and guilt still gripping him, though Vazi's suddenly gentled tone and expression soothed him somewhat. He relaxed just a little, and started to scoot closer to the stag's leg, looking for warmth and affection--then remembered how he'd jerked away.
Beast instead lingered awkwardly a few inches away, staring at Vazi's leg for a moment as if lost. Finally he raised his head again, once more listening.
The stag seemed to expect something of him. Beast's young mind struggled, trying to wrap itself around the nonsense-noises that the deer had been making toward him.
Filth. Beast. You are filth. What are you. You are filth.
His mind suddenly rallied, twisting on itself to come up with the answer that Vazi was looking for--connecting the dots of logic in a sudden spurt of inspiration despite his uneasy fear.
"Beast. Filth!" he answered brightly, not at all linking the meaning of the words to their sounds.
Beast had no idea that Beast, or Filth, was a bad thing... only that it was what he, apparently, was.
Perhaps he wasn't such an idiot after all. He understood what was asked of him well enough so Vazi put a smile on his face. A twisted smile borne from the misery of an innocent. It had taken him a little while but he finally understood and as time went on he would learn more and more about what he truly was. "Exactly. Beast. Filth. Just like all of your kind." The stag stepped forward and touched the cub on the head with his nose, tenderly, almost a fatherly gesture but one shouldn't be fooled. There was no kindness in that heart. Nothing but a void. He was doing the action for reinforcement to show that Beast had done well. His love could easily be stolen away by one wrong action.
The stag's head lifted and he eyed the cub, unsure of what to do now. He had found something that would perhaps held to keep him going. He had found a purpose in wanting to purge the cave of the evil the carnivores brought but just how would he do it? Well, perhaps he should leave here and think and walk. There was the place he'd passed through when... when the event had happened that he liked. He would set up shop there and think about what was to be done. "Come, Beast. There is much I must think about and much that I must teach you." He turned and began to try and bad away, intent on leading the white creature to the place he'd seen.
words: 258
tagged: @Beast
ooc: ---
muse: 6/10
"Talking looks like this." Thinking looks like this...
The lion cub squinted his eyes shut a little as the stag nuzzled his head, a sort of smile, his fear melting away. Whatever the problem had been, it was gone now, and his family, his--father? --would guide him, maybe guard him. He stood, little tail thrashing a little, letting out a soft grunting mew as the stag turned away.
He bounced along behind, leaping up to try and swat at the stag's tail and missing, faceplanting the rock with a grunt instead. He hurried at a bumbling run to catch up with the stately stride of the long-legged deer.
His paws were oversized white mitts, his eyes bright and pale as he took in the cave around them, the little nub-horns on his head glistening in the light of the lamp-orbs. His fuzzy fur was dried, by now, fluffed and white, and he let out joyful squeaks and growls as they walked, as he bounded along and around his "father."
Surely this wasn't so bad! Vazi would lead him and guide him and take him someplace safe, and they'd eat and laugh together and play and life would be great. This was but a fleeting concept in the white cub's mind; then he focused on the now, his childlike thoughts occupied by the shine of this rock or the buzz of that fly as they walked.
The cub began to follow behind him and frolic and play. It was irritating but he could tolerate it. However, when he felt wind from the cub's paw. Had he tried to hit has tail? There were some things he could tolerate but not that. The stag pinned his ears and turned to give a wordless bellow at the cub. After a solid glare and snort he said, "Keep your filthy paws away from me, you beast! You better not ever touch me or get near me every again unless I tell you to! Learn your place!" He turned and with one last snort began to lead the way again. "If I hear another peep out of you then you will feel the pain of my hoof against your head." He didn't know where the thread came from but he just wanted the thing to be quiet. To hush and leave him alone so he could be freed from the pain of his noises. The noises that sounded like Wynry's but really weren't... It was torture... A living hell where he would never see his dear brother again.