Blackberry Fields if third time's a charm then what does that say about the second

All welcome buuuuuuut @Merys nudgenudgewinkwink

Back here. He hadn't risked it since that awful day, shamed by both that bullish stranger and Nineva, made to feel every bit as tiny and helpless as he normally did. But that wasn't what normally happened these days, the status quo of Secret Woodlands was respect and validation and loyalty. Before he'd been interrupted, Duck had been looking forward to trying out fishing in the river which was bigger than his normal creek. With Miccah's words of gratitude and encouragement bouncing around in his scrawny ears, it was a lot easier to push aside the anxieties and try to be the kind of wolf that could be trusted with an official, respectable pack role.

And that kind of wolf didn't run away from adversity. While Duck wasn't quiiiiiiite 'that kind of wolf' yet, he had to start adjusting himself in little steps, little baby steps, starting with the things which really weren't worth being anxious about.

Like this damn river.

Once more, there he sat, peering down at the water, seeing the glimpses of silver body flash through it, and knew that it was deeper and faster than the creek he was used to. In fact, he knew very well, and was rather more acquainted with it than he wanted to be... Licking his lips, ears flicking about warily, once more he glanced about, saw nothing (especially nobody creeping up behind him like some sadistic creeper-creep) and waded in. He was hardly adverse to getting wet, he just liked it to be on his terms! Duck had chosen this spot carefully, where the river ran straight and, in this particular spot, rather shallow. It meant that he could stand comfortably with all four feet on the riverbed, but without any of the water yet going above his elbows. The riverbed fell away quickly in front of his feet, and even though this was very far from a grand river, Duck knew that it went a little too deep to risk being sloppy. The only way he could drown in his favourite creek would be to deliberately cram his head into the water. This river would probably be too tall to stand in, nose to toe, at its deepest point.

But, rather than make him nervous, all Duck could wonder is what kind of fish swam in there? He could see tiny bodies of smolts going wherever tiny baby fish went, and larger bodies of salmon and other silvery beasts as they went about their fishy business on this fine day.

Duck watched them, biding his time, patient, and thought that this time would go better. He padded along the river as he contemplated it, softly splashing as he went, re-assessing his position, and after some time had travelled a good couple-dozen yards from where he originally hopped into the water. Deciding that it would be best to get a little more perspective again, he turned to climb back up what was now a slightly steeper river bank - and upon breaching it, was met with exactly what he had feared.

Damnit.

(This post was last modified: Jun 20, 2016, 03:50 PM by Duckweed.)

You have no idea how ecstatic I am to be having this thread.

"Still no luck, eh? The fish must really not like this river," Merys said, as he looked down at the familiar boy coming up the bank. The five year old lay on his side casually, as he had been for some time. He had been watching the meek boy since he approached the river. He could not have been happier once he realized his luck in company. His tail had thumped curiously as the boy waded through the river, actually looking competent as he used the river's zeitgeber cues to navigate. He had elected to stay quiet since he had still been quite a distance from him. Though, like everyone, the boy was just drawn to him and Merys didn't have to do anything to have him drift towards his side of the bank. Effortless; he couldn't have planned it better.

He had travelled south for the simple reason of .. well, no, it wasn't that simple. After speaking with Gent about the nightshade branch, his curiosity had been piqued so strongly that he had to explore again. If he ever did run into that woman again, he would have some theories to run by her about her gift. Oh, he would figure her out alright. One way or another. 

The sky was clouded over, but it did not take away from the heat baking down on the earth. His relaxation had put him in a content mood, and his memory reminded him of the last time he had returned to this river. When the male strode up to its running waters, it was like fate had brought them together once more. Simply put, they were clearly meant to be best friends. How could the boy not see this? He climbed the bank, and while his face did not portray the idea that he was exactly happy to see Merys, his droopy appearance encouraged Merys on nonetheless. His comment had been innocent enough, right? He shouldn't startle or bolt just yet? Just a friendly discussion between hunters.

founding member | 2016

It took a lot of willpower not to just slide back down the bank and into the safety of the river. Stood there staring at the guy's smug face, hearing his smug voice... did he have to subject himself to this? There would be no shame in just noping out, right? What was he doing here, anyway? Did he live here or something?! Just lurking by the river, waiting for someone to prey on and make fun of?! Well! Duck wasn't going to give him that satisfaction! Not this time!

The pale wolf set his thin jaw in a way which helped him to pretend he was more sure of himself, and without a word of acknowledgement (but he'd given the lounging-around smartass a dirty look already) finished what he'd started, and came to stand properly on the ground beside the river, the bank now veering down behind him. He wished that he'd gone for a swim so that he could have an excuse to shake off his pelt, but flicking his wrists in the smarmy wolf's direction wouldn't have had quite the same effect.

At least he was lying down, and hadn't tried to startle Duck back into the river or anything... while he was like that, Duck could deal with it. It wasn't like the guy had hurt him, physically. Still, he hoped that Nineva wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, because he was quite determined for this to turn out differently. That kind of wolf didn't just avoid everything unpleasant, because that kind of wolf wasn't a massive sissy.

"I ha-ha-ha-hadn't ssss, s-s-st-st-started," he ground out through clenched teeth, avoiding eye contact and bracing himself for the next dose of sweetly-spat lies and jokes at his expense.

Merys smirked at the boy's wrist flicking. He was as pathetic as he was effective. Though, whether it was his previous experience here or just the lazy mood that the hot sun was putting him in, the five year old didn't have much energy for berating the boy. Yet, anyway. The smile stayed on his maw even as the boy stuttered through his three words of explanation. He planned on even next discussing fishing techniques with the young man; he was feeling that good today. He meekly avoided Merys' eye contact though, which may have been a good thing, for in the next few seconds as the boy walked by and the breeze blew by, Merys' smile was wiped from his face completely. 

Merys' nostrils flared, grasping violently at his faded and suppressed memory. He stood abruptly to approach closer to the boy, unconcerned with the boy's likely skittishness. It didn't matter if he bolted out of reach, the scent felt like it was everywhere around him now. His nose twitched purposely, outstretched in the boy's direction. The familiarity in the air between them was lighting a wildfire in Merys' head. It had been all passive exploration before, never intending on actually finding her. Her, she, nightshade; whatever sniglet he had coined that day for the unknown woman. "Who are you?" He demanded, ignoring the fact that it would not be the best method for interrogating the boy. He was driven by urgency. "Where are you from?" He asked again. He did his best to not seem intimidating, a trace of concern laced in his expressions. Who was this boy? He smelled like her. He smelled so much like her. She's real, he gleaned. She's real, he repeated again in his head. Of course she was real, he had always known that. Real meant something else.. she was tangible. 

founding member | 2016

He didn't actually flick his wet wrists, just considered it :P
also the unintended parallels here are blowing my mind but ofc he would say this

With his not-so-bold declaration out in the open, Duck supposed that now he should really make good on it and get on with his business. He had absolutely no intention of spending one second longer with this wolf than necessary, and he decided that he would pretend that this little jaunt back onto dry land was exactly as long as he originally intended. Yeah, he was just coming back up to consider his options and loop back around, straight into the river. Yep.

As he began to walk away, though, he saw something change about the brown wolf's posture, then - oh no - he got up, and marched forward, and Duck twisted about to face him, grey eyes growing wide with panic, tail curling underneath him even as his body lowered on slightly quivering limbs. It was as much submission as it was defence - what had changed?! It had been a bad idea to turn his back on this freak. Now he was gonna get shoved back into the river, and that was a best-case scenario.

The questions rolled over him, almost missed in his thumping fear for white noise, but the queerness of them registered. Why the fuck would he care about those things?! Almost out of bewildered anger at such stupid questions, Duck's curled his lip at the wolf who thought to bully for such meaningless things, his spiralling anxiety having lit that familiar fire under his toes. He barely noticed how the wolf was actually trying not to be intimidating, his gut was too quick to jump to conclusions. "No-no-no-nobody and no-no-nowhere," he growled, feeling incredibly small when faced with such a large wolf (why were they all so fucking large) but now his terror had spilled over into fury, so he cowered there and all the while he burned. What would a confident wolf do? "The f-f-ffffffffuck you care?!"

(This post was last modified: Jun 21, 2016, 02:23 PM by Duckweed.)

The boy melted underneath Merys' demands, though he did his best to throw in his best to do so with some fury-on-top. While this didn't bother Merys at first, it became clear that it wasn't going to get him anywhere. The boy looked younger than ever slinking to the ground beneath him, giving Merys pause. He realized his tail had been lashing high and excitedly behind him and he consciously slowed it. The boy stuttered his way through denial of his questions, and Merys snorted in displeasure. He shouldn't be surprised that the boy clammed up from the fresh tohubohu that the five year old had just thrown at him. His mustered attempt at a 'tough guy' remark when unnoticed, as Merys' gaze faltered to the side; what was he going to do? How did he not lose this lead?

Brown eyes shifted back to the pile of boy bones in front of him, lingering over him a moment longer. "I'm looking for someone," he said quietly, the sternness in his voice less so than before. The scene slowed down. "Tell me where you're from, at least. You're obviously from a pack; how far from here?" He asked, less demanding than before but still clear enough in his need for an answer. Hopefully the tone change would be enough to take the little turtle back out of its shell, he was not sure how else to deal with this. His curiosity and wish for an answer was still too heightened to come down to a place where he could coddle and bait the boy with kind words. 

founding member | 2016

... that should have had more of an effect, right? Duck's thinly-veiled attempts at confidence plummeted as it was painfully obvious that the man barely even noticed them. The fire under his feet cranked its heat up a few notches even as he shrank away more, his display having done nothing except for amplify his own fear and indignation.

But the huge wolf didn't attack, and even seemed to correct his body language to be a little less full-on, though of course it was all too late. When no immediate response had come, Duck had had no choice but to stand there and wait to see what would happen next, unable to muster anything in pre-emptive retaliation. When the explanation did come, it washed over Duck even as he hyper-focused on it, its innocuous message completely at odds with the provocative words he had been expecting.

What was this guy's deal?

The fur along his spine lowered by a fraction as confusion began to seep in alongside his anxiety. Seriously, why did he care? What was going on? Making it quite obvious that he didn't trust the man's motivations one bit, Duck's eyes narrowed as he tried to coax his limbs into quivering a little less, because this was a strange situation... one of power. For him. For some reason, this guy wanted to know something Duck could tell him, and pretty badly. All of Duck's instincts warned him not to say a word, because how could he betray the pack which looked after him so well, trusted him, encouraged him? And this bully could want anything. Duck thought of Miccah, of Rose, of Aideen, of her young children, of his mother. What would a confident wolf do?

"Whhh... why d-do you w-w-want to know?" he asked, more quietly, more guarded, with a touch more self-control, his panic having reached a tipping point. An idea occurred to him, a last-resort, because Duck knew himself well enough not to assume that he would be able to resist a more insistent interrogation. But maybe he could grab onto this one little thread of power and keep riding it as long as he could.

While frustration mounted, Merys fought the urge to let it show with the trembling creature. Why did it have to be this kid that reminded him of her? Why couldn't it have been a non- bumbling idiot who could converse and socialize at a normal pace? Of course, he had nothing to do with Merys' social skills, and entirely with the boy. When you could do no wrong, others had a tendency to always seem dumb and dumber. 

His stuttered response had still gotten the brute nowhere. The only solace Mer could find was in that he was still too scared to dart away. Easily spooked, and hardly manageablel, he thought with a frown, rolling his eyes. Wasn't the child listening? He was not in the mood for holding his paw through this interaction. Granted, Merys also knew that he likely would have a lot more patience than usual right now, considering this was in one and only lead towards the nightshadey-wolf. God, why did he even care so much? So much to the fact that he was berating some random.. wet sack of child bones into helping him find her. Would she even care that she was found? Did she have a second thought about him? Would she desperately berate this child in order to find him? 

The unanswered questions, like all the rest, began increasing Merys' frustration, largely at himself for letting his emotions get this tohubohu and out of hand. Stupid woman. So what if she had made him happy. Happier than he'd been in a LONG time- No. Just regular happy. Get over yourself. This was why becoming smitten made wolves do crazy things, this right here was an example of Merys being out of character for a silly reason. He snorted again in disgust at himself, and the boy for not giving him an easy answer. "Because I'm looking for someone," he repeated, annoyance creeping back into his tone. Was he going to be able to hold it together? "They dropped something when I last saw them. I need to return it," he admitted, hoping his perfectly acceptable excuse for looking for a wolf would coax the boy out of this .. act. "Which is why I need to know where I can find them," he explained with a curious tail flick, proud of how much exasperation he finally hid from his last comment. Oh, you go, glen coco.

founding member | 2016

There is a deer that was killed by a lynx nearby. +10 Health

In a sad, twisted way, it was working. Duck could see the man's patience trickling away as he didn't get the kind of answers he wanted, but he hadn't actually made any more forward moves, hadn't applied anymore force to his questioning. Duck still held the upper hand, if by that he meant the location of Secret Woodlands, for he was quite certain that his own identity was completely irrelevant - a point proven as the man explained just why he wanted to know where Duck lived so badly.

So he wanted to find someone from the Woodlands? Duck had to assume that the man had recognised something of his scent, and wondered which of the wolves knew this whack-job, and more importantly, who might actually want to be found. Hardly in a position of great trust, Duck eyed the brown wolf with clear suspicion despite the innocent-sounding reason. There was more to it than that. And even if there wasn't, why should he believe it, anyway? The only relationship that this guy had fostered, up until now, was one of mockery.

Duck licked his lips, swallowed, and took a careful breath, watching the man's gaze (for making eye contact is what a confident wolf did). "I'll t-t-t-t-tell you," he said at length, taking a step back just to give himself some more breathing room, but he didn't make any move to flee. Did he had the balls to do it? His one upper-hand, his one strength, the whole reason that he had doubled-down on this 'confident wolf' bullshit in the first place? "Iffff," he added sharply, hating how his lips quivered despite all his conscious efforts to control them, "you c-c-c-can c-c-c-ca-ca-catch m-more fish th-than me."

Fuck you.