2018.01.28:The Kindness of Caerns
| The Kindness of Caerns | |
|---|---|
| Natives of a local Caern show kindness to a stray bird. | |
| IC Date | January 28, 2018 |
| IC Time | Early Evening |
| Players | Iris, Dusk, Flit! |
| Location | In the chamber of a secluded Garou Caern. |
| Prp/Tp | Ithe Kindness of Caerns |
| Spheres | Garou, Shifter |
Dramatis Personae
In order of appearance: Iris, Flit! and Dusk.
(Standing at a common 5'9" tall, Iris is a pretty average girl, nothing tending towards any extremes . She's probably in her late 20's, olive skinned with dark hair done up in long, thin dreadlocks that she keeps pulled back from her face. Dark eyes are often framed in black rimmed cat's-eye glasses and outlined in liner, though she wears little else in the way of makeup. Her features are distinctly Grecian, given something of a classical appearance despite modern touches such as a simple ring in one nostril.
She tends towards more Bohemian styles, favoring plain and loose legged pants, long halter tops and dresses that tie behind her neck and leave her back bare to display a large and intricate tattoo of white feathery wings. Her tastes are inexpensive but durable things with beaded designs and subtle colorfulness, you can be certain a fair amount of it is made of hemp. When it comes to weather protection she skips sweaters and goes with shawls, big Stevie Nicks things with long fringe and pretty patterns that she can wrap up in. She's got The Big Purse, a large and colorful woven bag with a zipper along the top, capable of holding damned near everything except the kitchen sink.)
(A large shiny black bird with long black beak and bright blue eyes. A curious tilt of it's head gives it the appearance of something less wild, something almost approachable. Almost domestic. Almost intelligent.)
(The light brown locks at his head appear to be in a state of artful disarray, with the hair at his crown longer by perhaps an inch or two then the short cropped hair at the sides. His beard is sparse, more of a perpetual five o'clock shadow, and expressive eyebrows, thin but dense, rest above his moss-green eyes. Even his forearms are in on the hairy act. He tops six feet by an inch or two, with a slender build, and looks to be in his early twenties.
A two tone gray Patagonia jacket covers his torso, while a brown Henley shirt can be seen underneath, the sleeves reaching just past his wrists, and sits untucked over a pair of slim, straight-legged jeans in high-quality dark indigo denim. A black leather belt, usually hidden beneath the shirt, helps to keep them up, and their lower hems meet the tops of his simple black leather sneakers.
Nor is he a man to shun other accessories: There's bracelets, hidden under his right sleeve: woven cloth, leather, twined with seashells, even what seems to be a shoelace. A ring decorates his left ring finger, cobalt featuring a serene pine forest laser carved into it, as well.)
Log
The Kindness of Caerns CoH - Sunday, January 28, 2018, Early Evening
A vast lush, dense underground forest surrounds the area as thick, tangled vines creep on up past high, rising treacherous, slick, black walls. The volcanic rock face that surrounds this natural valley seems to reach on up to the brink of infinity and beyond, making it nearly impossible to climb with its slick, plate-like surface. Inside the surrounding chasm lies a dangerous lush and vibrant woods as while the deeper one goes only seems to surround the area with eyes that watch from afar. Strange, foreign sounds echo throughout as odd beasts mock those that dare to travel in here, simply waiting in hiding to prey upon the weak and less fortunate. Numerous deep, dark, twisting caverns wind ever downwards to make up the expanse of the labyrinthine structure of the underground tunnels surrounding the area.
The ceiling of the caverns reaches something of hundreds of feet tall, far beyond what the eye an see into the dark as great stalactites and stalagmites meet each other in grissled embedded rock structures of enriched, pure minerals. Differently colored crystal pools of shimmering mineral water cascade down from flowing indoor springs as a cool, eerie air seems to constantly blow through the area, howling like a banshee on the wind. Photoluminescent algae clings healthily to the rock beds near the pools of water as they glow malevolently, casting a dim light for those to see that pass through these dark paths. Deep abysmal, dark and dense caves completely surround the area as the latent sound of dripping water lightly echoing against dried, crusted, volcanic rock and stinging gentle mineral pools with their soft *Hiss* as the cool water gently touches to make a light steam in the thick air.
The pathways that lead around these eternal caverns here are exceptionally deadly and dangerous as all lies within complete darkness except for the brief moments of glittering light against soft pools of crystals, green moss, illuminated algae, and shards of silvery reflections inside cavern waterfalls. The lush, thick, dark underground forest seems to surround the dense area in tight entanglements of vines, bushes, jungle and shrubs. The trees hang down in their weeping willows as branches mix with gnarled roots that sink beneath the cracked, rocky, stygian, encrusted earth. Depths of coiled mist surround the thick humid air in a serpentine pattern as spouts of steam spit out from the dark chasms in bursts of fiery hot gaseous flames.
Notable artifacts in the area around the Caern include a Stone Tablet and Totem Pole with several tunnels leading off to untold mysteries of the network of underground forest and caves.
Iris is hanging out near the bonfire, sitting cross legged with a beat up spiral notebook on her leg and a pencil in hand, that look of 'I can do this!' concentration on her face while she does a little bit of drawing. She's not all that great at it, but in a technology-free caern you gotta work with what you've got.
From a large cavern leading to the outside, a large young raven flapped into the safety of the Caern chamber. This was a safe spot, the kinfolk had assured him. He cawed in greeting to the young woman below and landed a few feet away.
Iris is a bit startled by the loud sound and jumps a bit, sharing attention between erasing a bad line she just made and looking over towards the newly arrived raven. "Hello, bird." she says, although in plain old english rather than raven speak.
The young Raven tilted his head puzzled, "Do ya speak Corax, then?" He chittered not expecting a positive response.
The young Raven hopped over to take a closer look at her drawing, a slave to his curious nature.
While he watched he softly mimicked a Garou greeting howl. A howl that very much sounded like Blacktail's jubilant cry.
The warder passes on patrol carrying a clothing iron at the end of a steel chain.
Iris is working on a caduceus, she's not real great at it and it looks a bit cartoony, but it's still possible to tell what it is. At the imitation howl she looks down from her work to the bird again and says, "I'm pretty sure you're not." She understand howls, at least! But alas, that looks nothing like Blacktail the wolf! She could be wrong, but she sounds confident that the bird isn't her.
Iris is sitting on the ground cross legged near the bonfire with a battered notebook on her lap and a pencil in hand, having a sort of a 'conversation' with a blackbird. I mean it's a bird, so conversing can only go so far without some neat tricks, but still. It's talking. Kinda. "I'm pretty sure you're not." she's just said in english to the bird in reply to an imitation of a howl.
The young raven ruffles his shoulder feathers in avian laughter and nods his feathery head and the young lady's drawing as he hops in front of her. He whistles impressed.
From the pathway, Dusk approaches, head down, accordion case slung over his left shoulder. While his course would take him towards the amphitheater, he pauses after a cursory glance towards the conversation and a double take. Brows lift while he straightens his posture, an inquisitive expression overtaking his features.
Iris sets her pencil at rest and eyes the bird with a quirked smile when she's whistled at. It'd be a lie to say she's not a bit charmed, you go complimenting someone's shitty artwork and they're bound to end up with a smile. "You're a clever bird, aren't you?" she asks while reaching out cautiously as if she wants to pet the critter, "Are you someone's companion, or a corax?" Like she'd know, she's just making guesses.
"...Or a Corvid?" He mimicked back at her with a chittering of laughter.
The large raven tilts his head inquisitive at the new fellow with the accordion. The Celtic band he had followed to the Americas had an accordian. Instead of howling this time, he mimicked the sound of a accordion doing a jaunty reel. Just a short bit, but enough to recall the splendid rhythm.
Torso turning, Dusk unslings his case down to the ground and up nods his head towards the corvid, "I don't think that's a pet." Knotted with worry, his brows uplift while his mossy green eyes shift from the bird to Iris and then back. "You should be careful. They have a thing about eyes. I think Paul, if you know Paul, knows more about 'em." He pauses for a moment and sniffs absentmindedly, "That one didn't sound like this one, though."
If she's not stopped, Iris is totally gonna pet the bird. A little on the head, a little under the beak. "Nooo, companions aren't pets!" Iris says, towards the bird but in reply to Dusk, "Companions just hang out and eat half your dinner. I have a companion, a very nice horse, but she's definitely not a pet and would probably kick me if I ever said she was. Do you shape shift, pretty bird?"
The large black bird tilted its head and hopped back a few steps. It bowed and in a breath's span. He shifted to a larger featherless form.
A pale, lanky, dark haired lad kneeled before her and the musician, quite completely naked save for a wry unabashed grin. He seemed confident in his nothingness and friendly in a fashion. His eyes dancing curiously about. He tilted his head in a birdlike fashion and spoke in a lyrical, gaelic lilt, "Feeagh, mam. Saer." He nodded merrily at both the homids. "At yer lovely services, then."
"Uhh," objects Dusk, throatily, to one or more things said to him. He takes a step back when Iris offers to stroke the bird, and worse still, when it moves away. Its shift triggers the Nope reflex in Dusk, who is abrupt in picking up his case with his left hand by the strap and heading on to his destination, his other hand used to shield his eyes, brimmed at his eyebrows, either at the other man's nudity, or at Dusk's limited exposure to Corax and their purchase for eye eating.
Iris is a lot less noped by the whole thing, glancing towards the averted eyed and fleeing Dusk before looking back to the bird-man, "Such prudes!" she jokes, and then states the obvious, "You, sir, need some dedicated pants. It's nice to meet you, my name is Iris."
"Aye. That I do, Miss," he agreed in a lyrical lilt, "I have a stash cliff-side by the Cove. A gent
said he might be able to help dedicate a pair this comin' week, then."
"What sort o' music do ya weave, saer? Accordion is a popular, fine instrument in the Isles back home. Not as sweet as fiddle or whistle but splendid, nonetheless."
Before anyone has a chance to interrupt the lad, he added with a wry smirk, "And I doen know a Raven one that has ever ate a live man's eye. Or woman's. Can't speak for me more beastly cousins, but for we Corax Fera ya can be sure. 'Sides. We rather like wolfs, then. Hadn't ya heard?"
"If you bring me your things, I can get them dedicated for you, if you like." Iris offers with a smile, "I won't even make you wait till next week!" She doesn't seem to have much of a problem with the nudity though, but otherwise doesn't interrupt the questions to Dusk.
Attempting to make good his escape, Dusk flees towards the amphitheater with -- one, two – both eyes intact. So far. A breathy sigh of relief precedes being asked a question, and Dusk stops in his tracts, "Uhh," is the sound he makes when his reply is being thought of. Turning to address his speaking, or at least in the other man's vicinity, Dusk's head uplifts to check out the cavern ceiling. Nice ceiling, the ceiling that would wear pants.
"I'm, ah. I play a little of this and that. I guess, nothing set in stone. " Dusk shakes his head softly, "I don't think I've heard, she repeatedly told me she was going to eat my eyes."
"That would be lovely, Miss Iris. I acquired just the pair last night then. Can Ya do a shirt and boots as well. Doen know how the homids get about on such tender feet. Feet, right? Not paws. That's when yer furry then?"
He looks puzzled at the musician and turns to the artist, "Does me lack of feathers upset him. I'd guess him t' be homid then. Some seem t' have issues in that regard. Still practicing at being 'human' me. It's an acquired taste, I think."
The immodest lad frowns, "will ya be here later then, Miss Iris? It will take a spell to fly there and back. And I might need to rest along the way back...wait...I'll fetcha sack or a bag... that should do then."
The young man seemed happy with the solutions he'd come up with.
"Ok, here," replies Dusk, putting his musical instrument down again. Both hands go to his throat and pull down his jacket's zipper, "I can't stand this anymore." Pulling the jacket off, he opens it for Feeagh to slip his arms into. "Here," Dusk says still addressing the ceiling, "put this on at the very least. And go ahead and keep it, I can afford to buy another." Though he wasn't addressed, Dusk shakes his head, "I'm not homid. I just didn't expect to see bits and tackle this late in the afternoon. My name's Dusk. I'm Kinfolk."
Iris laughs a bit and nods her head, "Feet in homid, paws in lupus." she confirms. "Aww, nude shaming. You've got to loosen up, man." she says to Dusk while he tries to get his coat on the bird. "But yes, I'm likely to be around, but um... here..." she picks up a Bigass Purse from behind her, unzipping the hemp woven thing to dig dig dig around in there before coming out with one of her shawls that's been folded up into a little roll that she can hand to Feeagh. "I want that back, so don't lose it, but you can get your things all wrapped up in it."
"Well thanks for your generous gift, saer. Makes sense yer kinfolk. Shifters are rarely so body shy then." He slips into the jacket that Dusk holds out. It hangs low on the slender, shorter lad just barely sparing the young man any immodesty.
"Itsa good fit, innit?" He asks the young lass. "Nice and loose. Like a second set o' wings almost.
"He nods attentively at Iris as she speaks, head tilted oddly so he doesn't mis a thing.
"He accepts the shawl graciously. "Very generous then. The Kinfolk were wise to send me here, then.
So...should I leave the Jacket then. And be off to fetch the clothing?"
Green eyes lower a little, but only so Dusk can roll them, and with a guttural dismissive exhaust of air, he draws his eyes down and nods. "Better," and he's about to open his mouth to add something when there's conversation about leaving the Jacket behind. Dusk throws his hands up and looks what would be skyward, "Ugh." Before heading back towards his downed accordion case with a soft, humorous smirk.
Iris rolls her own eyes with an amused smirk, muttering, "Men, so insecure." She nods to the bird then and says, "Sure, if you want to go and get it, I'll wait here and.. He'll run away." she adds, hooking a thumb towards Dusk.
Laughing merrily, he turns away from the kinfolk and takes off the jacket and passes it to her... It's a moment's struggle until he gets the hang of it. "Bit of a puzzler, that."
"Well. I'll return with a fair wind, then, Miss Iris."
"Well met, generous Kinfolk he calls out as he kneals with Iris's shawl in hand.
A breath's moment later, the young man smoothly shifts back to his feathered form.
"Caw! Caw!"
He rises into the air gracefully and departs back through the large cavern from whence he came..
Dropping his jaw, Dusk looks hurt at Iris and lets out another single grunt of disbelief. "Well I
was going to the amphitheater to practice. But if I go there now it looks like I'm fleeing," Dusk ponders his situation, his gaze casted upwards, following the flight of the Corax, brows lifted. "Fine, I'll just drive out everybody out from here, though I'll have to leave eventually. My wife will expect me back sometime." Remaining standing, Dusk opens the clasps of his accordion and pulls out the custom made piece.
The warder passes on patrol carrying a clothing iron at the end of a steel chain.
