Drooping Willows an alright start

A leetle short for the first post, sorry!
<blockquote>Rain fell steadily that morning. Fat drops pelted Rihael's forehead as he trotted aimlessly southward along the River, blinking through the shower, his thick coat already hopelessly wet. Fortunately, Hael didn't mind the rain. In fact, to him, being wet came second only to being muddy, and crossing the River had already coated his large paws in slick, dark mud, so that was taken care of. He was probably leaving pawprints, but that wasn't a problem, since the gentle rain would wash them away, and his tracks would be covered. As long as the River remained within its confines and didn't flood or anything (like last time), Hael was okay with the rain, and was feeling pretty at peace with the world. But, he was careful to keep the River in check with a series of glances down at its rushing waters as he sauntered along.

After some time he looked up to see the area he'd discovered. To his delight, he could see through the rain that a forest of strange, large trees had blossomed around him. Their branches, yellow-green, were long and bendy, drooping to the green earth. They looked sad somehow, but also whimsical, and Hael wasted no time in bounding forward into the reaches of their arms. The leaves were thin and wispy and gave him decent shelter from the rain. Curiously, he studied one for a moment, then moved into nose at it. It smelled sweet, fresh. So maybe they also tasted—

"Plehhhhhbleheew—" Not good at all. Hael sputtered and spat the branch he'd torn off to the ground, nudging it again with his nose for good measure. Well, at least now he knew. Shrugging it off, still licking his chops in a futile attempt to get the bitter taste out of his mouth, he stared at the odd leaves. If nothing else, they made a pretty sweet green mane for the kid as he then stuck his head through them, grinning wildly, oblivious to the fact that he might not be alone.</blockquote>

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<blockquote><ul><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'>dat cutie pie~</span></li></ul>
After putting much effort into ditching her debbie-downer mother, Dagrún was suddenly at a loss of what to do with herself. Aimless wandering, however, was not for the frail, feral child. She <i>blazed</i> through Relic Lore at a breakneck pace, only slowing down when she needed to catch her breath — which was often. Either unaware or unwilling to acknowledge the limits of her pour body, Dag continued to push the boundaries of her feeble heart as if it were all a game. As if she wasn't wearing herself down. As if she were healthy, <i>immortal</i>. This place that she had been brought to, well, it sure seemed awfully <i>boring</i>. The thought of settling down was disappointing to the little spitfire, who dearly loved to roam. And to settle down <i>here</i>? Well, in that case, she concluded she would die of boredom before the week was out.

But wait... What was that? An icy droplet, aimed by some mocking god, had struck her left eye just as she lifted her face skyward. "<b>Ow,</b>" she said breathlessly, shaking her head violently to rid herself of the stinging pain. Dark, swollen, and brooding, the clouds loomed on high. Suddenly, Dag felt more than a little stupid. She hadn't noticed the clouds, the sky, she hadn't noticed a damn thing. But when had she ever? The rain began in earnest, then, and it brought a devious, hungry smile to the young girl's face. Oh, how she loved the rain.

With a careless abandon, the spitfire began to dance among the willow trees, singing a tuneless song at the top of her lungs in that reedy, childish voice of hers. She danced like a madwoman, throwing her back legs out from beneath her and bucking like a deranged horse. Rearing up on her hind legs, the child attempted something like a pirouette, only to fall on her soaking wet behind. A hiss of displeasure passed her lips. As she was getting up, though, she heard a strange noise. <i>"Plehhhhhbleheew—"</i> What? Dagrún's head shot up abruptly, realizing she was not alone. The disembodied head of a dark and smiling boy floated in the green curtain... and it scared the living daylights out of her. She screamed, collapsing in a heap on the ground once more as her legs gave out from beneath her.
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Sorry! Just turned in a huge project so now I am freeee
<blockquote>Oblivious to the fact that there had been someone else nearby— and unaware that he must've slightly resembled Jack Nicholson in The Shining— Rihael was absolutely startled by the shrill scream of a girl. In a flash he jumped backward, almost falling over, safe for a second behind the curtain of the willow leaves that had previously made up his luxurious locks. The rain seemed to swallow the sound all around him, but he could hear his heart thumping in his chest as he crept forward to peer around the drooping willow branches. She was still there, of course, her white coat drenched. Immediately his fear at having been startled dissipated, and he now felt overtaken with laughter as he stepped through the branches, parting them with his large form.

"Hah, I'm sorry—" he started, though with difficulty through his laughter, "I— definitely did not see you there!" At first glance, he thought for a second that it might've been Arlette, the female he'd met at the Marsh. But this girl was different; she was just altogether a different shape, smaller, very small, actually. Was she younger than he was? Her scent was muted by the earthy, overwhelming scent of rain, so he wasn't sure, but he watched her interestedly, his laughter slowly dying down. It was only after a moment that he actually calmed down enough to notice that she... seemed to have really been scared. Or at least she seemed to be?

"Didn't mean to startle you," he added, now unsure whether or not he even needed to explain. She was small, maybe she'd thought— "I wasn't trying to attack you, and... I'm... still not trying to," he finished, not sure whether or not it was obvious. Guilt began to wash over him, and so he stood there placidly as the rain flowed in little streams over his eyes. He blinked them away, but found himself just awkwardly batting his eyelids at her, so he gave a hearty shake of his tricolor coat, fiery eyes opening again once he was finished. And then, he simply waited for her to say something, <i>anything</i>, just in case he'd given her a heart attack or something...</blockquote>

(This post was last modified: May 04, 2012, 05:44 PM by Rihael.)

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As quickly as the head had appeared, it was suddenly gone.

Panting, utterly exhausted by the psychological trauma that accompanies seeing a floating, severed head, Dagrún merely sat there in the mud. All of a sudden, the cold and the rain seemed to skin into her skin, and it made her tremble like a pathetic little leaf in a gale. She was tiny, after all —<i>abnormally tiny</i>— and her immune system was so very weak. Although she pointedly ignored the frailty of her body for the most part, she was vaguely aware that her mother would be furious with her for dancing out in the rain, because she'd probably get sick. And being sick was no fun. It meant being confined to some den for <i>days</i>, and that was boring.

But after a few moments the floating head appeared again... except this time a body emerged along with the face. And what a <i>handsome</i> body it was, so brawny and big, a mixture of brindled earth and cream. Gazing at him with undisguised awe, the little girl felt her heart stop and she was sure she was in love. Alright, maybe she was another year away from complete maturity, but she had recently discovered that boys... even with all their cooties were really quite... <i>something</i>, and they made her feel... <i>something.</i> And since she could not name that something, she called it <i>love</i>, because she had been told by someone that men and women fall in love... so surely... <i>surely</i> this was love.

When the boy began to laugh at her, she felt a twinge of indignation. Dagrún did <i>not</i> enjoy being laughed at. But...She began to reevaluate. <i>I love him. I'm not allowed to be mad at him.</i> Perhaps she would have to cut him some slack — after all, they had only just met, and he wouldn't know that she didn't like being laughed at. Or, for that matter, being coddled. But there was something in the way this boy was so desperate to make sure she was alright, that made her want to yell at him and swoon at the same time. "<b>I'm not afraid of you!</b>" she piped up in that reedy voice of hers, as she clamored to her feet. Realizing that was a little harsh of her, she amended with a softer tone, "<b>I'm only shivering because I'm cold and I — ACHOO!</b>" Her head thrashed with the strength of the sneeze so powerful that she almost fell over again.
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<blockquote>For a split second Hael thought he might've killed her. There was a weird glassiness to her bright, clay-colored eyes that made him wonder if she knew how to speak actual words— but luckily, her expression twisted into a determined frown, and she almost began shouting. Feeling somehow very oafish in that moment, he simply stood looking down at her, perplexed and slightly bewildered by the sudden change in her behavior. Her voice sounded to him like it could've come from a bird, a very small, standoffish bird, and he pulled his head back as though it would help soften the blow of her sudden retort. Not afraid, huh? <i>Well you certainly </i>looked<i> afraid,</i> he countered inwardly with a twinge of annoyance. But if she irked him in that moment, all that melted away as a powerful sneeze just about knocked her back down on her butt.

Now that she was standing, Hael realized just how little she really was; he wondered what he looked like from all the way down there, probably like a bear or something. An endeared mix of amusement and concern washing over his masked face, the boy tilted his head. "Then don't stand in the rain! Here, c'mere," he offered with a lopsided smile, stepping backwards through the drooping, yellow-green willow branches behind him. She seemed sick, and he didn't really want to be sick either, but the least he could do was get her out of the relentless, chilly showers. Once he was back behind his little curtain, he waited quietly to see if she'd follow— even though, to be honest, he was halfway expecting her to tell him <i>no!</i> and go huffing and puffing away to her own little sickly endeavors.

Although, he hoped little Muddybutt would choose to take him up on that offer; the willow tree didn't provide perfect shelter, but it was better than just standing out there and being rained on. So he waited as patiently as he could, tail beginning a low wag behind him, resisting the urge to peek around the branches.</blockquote>

(This post was last modified: May 10, 2012, 10:50 PM by Rihael.)

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Well he sure was <i>bossy</i>. Just as Dagrún opened her mouth to say so, however, he wheeled about and darted back behind the willow-curtain. Feeling quite miffed about his <i>theft</i> of her opportunity to voice her much-needed opinion, Dagrún momentarily considered just sitting out in the rain to spite him — maybe <i>then</i> he would care that he had hurt her feelings— but just then another violent sneeze wracked her wretched body. For once, she decided that she would just have to swallow her damn pride and just tell him off later. They were in <i>love</i> after all, and perhaps that meant that boys were allowed to be bossy. But that was pretty damn <i>stupid</i>... Except, now that she was in love, it wasn't like it could really be helped. With an exasperated shrug and a "well, here goes nothing" shrug, she plunged into the curtain after him with the enthusiasm of a volcano.

"<span style='font-size:9pt;line-height:100%'><span style='font-family:georgia'><i>YARGGGG!</i></span></span>" Unable to aim herself in the half-light, but still give it her all, the muddy little girl threw herself towards wherever she assumed her lover must be waiting for her behind the veil. Whether this was an attack or an embrace was hard to say — it was probably equal parts infatuation and a need to have fun. She would let him be bossy if that was how things were supposed to be, but in no way would she ever sacrifice having <i>fun</i> to be in love. Thus, this was a test — or an excuse.

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