Wam, bam, interactions for madam.
Muttonhawk Member
Let Slip the Corgis of War
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Dear Mr Curly,
I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all nothings lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that I am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat.
Yours sleepily,
Vasco Pyjama
xxx
P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!
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To all, even lesser gods, the void had naught perceptible but the emptiness that gave it its name. As devoid of all possibility as colour on a great, black carpet, stretching on into time and space. To render a world like this is to wipe it clean, to annihilate all that exists upon it. However, there are energies that cannot truly disappear.
Obscured from perception was the embryo of a divine spirit. It was starved of purpose, concept, and possibility, just like the void, and thus perfectly obscured. That was, until a consciousness tread upon the endless black carpet and stirred the spirit hidden beneath. Two consciousnesses. It was a poke in the side to this spirit; a reminder of its existence, but without purpose enough to awaken it fully. Unbeknownst to the sleeping god was that these interlopers knew that the spirit was there. They forced its senses into focus with a word that demanded purpose.
A shapeless creature emerged from under the void, pushed out by a tyrannical boot. It was not the only one. Other spirits, other gods, older and newer, emerged from the void in some form or fashion. The presence of each of them was a shock appropriate for one deprived of all perception for an eternity. Those beings who sought order and structure hit with the presence of a splash of cold water, while those who desired disarray and rebellion struck like a burning lash. The shapeless creature formed a body of clay in a panic and gasped painfully in the throes of life.
A soft voice sounded out. It was inevitable, but calming, much like an acceptance of death. That was, except that it forced this clay wretch to accept life: "Thou art Toun," the voice of Fate sounded, "Make this world better. This is thy purpose."
The panicked clay creature levelled completely with these words. He willed his body to improve, to smooth over, to represent a perfection that he could bring. The creature became Toun, the porcelain sire. His body paled to polished white, built like the most common form of his fellows, but without blemish. A simple robe of more perfect porcelain dressed his body, but no matter where he moved, the clay would not break.
Toun inspected his surroundings, twisting his head beyond conventional limits to visually greet his siblings. With each one he saw, his heart beat faster. Some were laying out plans and ploughing the fields for this world to grow, but it was so haphazard, so...flawed. Some knew what they were doing, but actions were disparate, and Toun knew that they would come to collide and cause a mess. He had to step in.
In one, rushed, warped step, Toun extended his leg and closed the distance between himself and the sketches of Teknall, the Artisan. Etched on his designs were the damage already done, such things that Toun could not reverse. Then again, they were salvageable. This system of order, matter, and energy, the rules were convoluted and numerous, but there was no reason that it could not render a paradise. It was just that Teknall was limited in his scope.
"You build bricks, but not houses, brother," A level, monotonous voice murmured from Toun. He reached with one hand and allowed his fingers to extend and warp into ink nibs. "Allow me to assist you."
It was then that Toun began to seep a red ink from his long fingertips. He was a creator, while Teknall was merely a crafter. New concepts came about in small, perfectly shaped pieces. These pieces he drew upon the design of this world filled in gaps, intentional or not, in Teknall's designs. They allowed for the fostering of life, but that point was where Toun's scratching halted. He shakily withdrew his fingers for a moment. Such was the enthusiasm that Toun took in creating that to halt so suddenly left him staggering, in body and speech, "Life...there was life among us...where was it left?"
Toun twisted his body frantically, searching for the essence of life. He found it in a heap, a delicate egg. "Oh...how did it come to this!" Toun took another impossible pace up to the pool of spreading, aimless life. The egg was so fragile, and it was just left here. "Why was she left here to wait for our blunderings? We are to build a paradise. We must do better for us all..." Carefully, delicately, Toun reached out and warped his hands into the shape of a bowl underneath the egg. He did not mind that the moss and ooze was covering him while he carried her, he knew it could not breach his perfect clay skin.
Toun carried the egg of Rottenbone Slough over to the designs of Teknall. In this new parameter for the paradise envisioned for the world, Toun's godly mind began to race with possibilities. All these new requirements to fill would send him into a frenzy to refine to perfection. What brought him to such a damning realisation was that Toun could not do everything. He needed help.
He contained himself long enough to leave the bowl containing Slough on the design parchment itself. "Sister...please...persevere." The bowl detached from Toun's body, but he immediately grew new hands and seemed to step off in several different directions at once. Under Toun's obsession, reality ran in several parallel moments.
Vowzra had already done his work. Toun stepped up in front of him with a start, angled his head, huffed, and sprang away. There was nothing else he needed from him that had not already been laid out. Time was a constant march now.
Logos, the original architect of order in this world. He had already stymied Toun's aspirations before he even knew to act. Toun stepped up close to his face, such that in the glossy white of his head, Logos could see the reflection of his shining eyes. Toun had only brief, quivering, almost crazed words for him. "Brother. We seek to build more from this world. Please see that we do not break your code lest our designs spiral into destruction." With that, Toun shot off as well.
Niciel. The pure hearted spirit from which all virtue was rooted. Toun came up just as close to her. His words were more level, if only because it was difficult to be unsteady around her. "Sister. Please see that our plans are not corrupted by minds of suffering." Toun stepped away as suddenly as he arrived.
Zephyron was the first god that Toun confronted and flinched back from. This was a force that could undermine all. Indiscriminate and deadly. Toun exhaled harshly in disgust and left the roiling storm alone. If any change were to help, Toun would not be the one to suggest it. Then again, the adversity of Zephyron could serve to harden their creation like heating a metal. Toun decided to allow Zephyron to go about his business than warn him away.
Varkarlon and Daegon. It was almost difficult to spot the deceitful beings. They had stayed back, likely waiting for something to impress their talents upon. Toun gave them each a sideways glance, tsked, and stepped away without a word. Their games could come after their great designs were complete, not before.
Vestec was a beast that Toun found to be a waste of time. The objective of this creature was to undo anything they created. Toun lifted his upper lip in disdain and stepped away. He noted the identity of the one that would try to exploit any weaknesses of their design.
The spirit of war, Kyre, was one that Toun found an inspiration from. Not because of the conflict he represented, but the converse unity. Toun took the great warrior by the shoulders, held his face close such that his reflection was seen as well on Toun's face, and spoke with quiet zeal. "Brother. I beseech you to keep our design safe. All its creators must unite to prevent its destruction."
Julkofyr required a few impossible steps to find, camouflaged as he was. As soon as Toun found his form, he gasped in realisation. The darkness was already ingrained in the very universe being created. Julkofyr was already part of the grand plan. Toun gave no instructions and left the darkness to its own devices.
Jvan's opening comment brushed over Toun's body like it was nothing. Beauty was not something he was concerned with, especially with his focus purely upon this new project of creating a the paradise for them all. When he stepped up close to her, Toun was initially both enchanted and taken aback at the same time simply by confronting Jvan. For a pivotal moment, he forgot her motivations, the damage he could do. He gave in to an inspiration in his mind and spoke. "Sister. The life we wish to foster requires flesh to live in. If you could only donate but a morsel so we may shape it, it would be built upon with greater potential than any clay I could shape."
Toun shot away to allow Jvan to consider. There were still other beings to speak to.
Death. Reathos. Toun understood his purpose. It was the unfortunate flaw of life that it must always be recycled into death at the rate that it is made anew. Toun confronted Reathos in a similar way to the others. The reflection on Toun's glossy face almost imposed the image of a skull into his head. It was metallic and cold, like the aspect of death before him. "Brother. Please do your duty when we are done. Keep this world's life in balance lest it swallow itself."
The scintillating muse known as Ilunabar did not inspire Toun directly to give her a role. Her presence already filled it. She served as inspiration to a countless number of patterns and problems in Toun's mind regarding the design of their new paradise.
Toun simply took Ilunabar by the upper arms and reflected her face to her like everyone else. "Sister. Please, never cease to provide creativity. It is the key to the vault of our solutions."
Rather than step up to Astarte, the mercurial goddess of the arcane, Toun had to take flight with her. When he finally caught up behind her, Toun flew parallel to her, facing her back and staring at her potential. "Sister," Toun said past sensation of movement. Again, his tone was quivering and obsessed with what he was creating. "You are unclear to me. However, your power may lend a resistance to destruction. Please, allow our creation ways to protect itself where order limits its survival."
"Ull'Yang!" Toun stepped up to the newly arrived and crystalline god. He knew exactly the role for this one to play. He had so much unbridled energy within him. "Brother. See the life of Slough, her life of suffering. She is spreading mindlessly thin, as per her nature. Without nourishment, she will surely die. Please, feed our creation. Renew its vigour so that paradise may reign unobstructed."
And so it was that Toun pleaded to all the gods yet to make themselves apparent. Little did he know the folly of his pleas. The recipe he was trying to stir was unstable, fragile. In his obsession, we was trying desperately to keep up with complications upon complications. All these measures and countermeasures were ripe for meddling, but he would not stop until he saw it all created.
With Slough protected beside him, Toun continued to scratch upon the designs of Teknall, taking leads from him as he took leads from Toun. They were together architect and engineer in one. They only awaited the components to see their magnum opus created.
Obscured from perception was the embryo of a divine spirit. It was starved of purpose, concept, and possibility, just like the void, and thus perfectly obscured. That was, until a consciousness tread upon the endless black carpet and stirred the spirit hidden beneath. Two consciousnesses. It was a poke in the side to this spirit; a reminder of its existence, but without purpose enough to awaken it fully. Unbeknownst to the sleeping god was that these interlopers knew that the spirit was there. They forced its senses into focus with a word that demanded purpose.
'Come.'
A shapeless creature emerged from under the void, pushed out by a tyrannical boot. It was not the only one. Other spirits, other gods, older and newer, emerged from the void in some form or fashion. The presence of each of them was a shock appropriate for one deprived of all perception for an eternity. Those beings who sought order and structure hit with the presence of a splash of cold water, while those who desired disarray and rebellion struck like a burning lash. The shapeless creature formed a body of clay in a panic and gasped painfully in the throes of life.
A soft voice sounded out. It was inevitable, but calming, much like an acceptance of death. That was, except that it forced this clay wretch to accept life: "Thou art Toun," the voice of Fate sounded, "Make this world better. This is thy purpose."
The panicked clay creature levelled completely with these words. He willed his body to improve, to smooth over, to represent a perfection that he could bring. The creature became Toun, the porcelain sire. His body paled to polished white, built like the most common form of his fellows, but without blemish. A simple robe of more perfect porcelain dressed his body, but no matter where he moved, the clay would not break.
Toun inspected his surroundings, twisting his head beyond conventional limits to visually greet his siblings. With each one he saw, his heart beat faster. Some were laying out plans and ploughing the fields for this world to grow, but it was so haphazard, so...flawed. Some knew what they were doing, but actions were disparate, and Toun knew that they would come to collide and cause a mess. He had to step in.
In one, rushed, warped step, Toun extended his leg and closed the distance between himself and the sketches of Teknall, the Artisan. Etched on his designs were the damage already done, such things that Toun could not reverse. Then again, they were salvageable. This system of order, matter, and energy, the rules were convoluted and numerous, but there was no reason that it could not render a paradise. It was just that Teknall was limited in his scope.
"You build bricks, but not houses, brother," A level, monotonous voice murmured from Toun. He reached with one hand and allowed his fingers to extend and warp into ink nibs. "Allow me to assist you."
It was then that Toun began to seep a red ink from his long fingertips. He was a creator, while Teknall was merely a crafter. New concepts came about in small, perfectly shaped pieces. These pieces he drew upon the design of this world filled in gaps, intentional or not, in Teknall's designs. They allowed for the fostering of life, but that point was where Toun's scratching halted. He shakily withdrew his fingers for a moment. Such was the enthusiasm that Toun took in creating that to halt so suddenly left him staggering, in body and speech, "Life...there was life among us...where was it left?"
Toun twisted his body frantically, searching for the essence of life. He found it in a heap, a delicate egg. "Oh...how did it come to this!" Toun took another impossible pace up to the pool of spreading, aimless life. The egg was so fragile, and it was just left here. "Why was she left here to wait for our blunderings? We are to build a paradise. We must do better for us all..." Carefully, delicately, Toun reached out and warped his hands into the shape of a bowl underneath the egg. He did not mind that the moss and ooze was covering him while he carried her, he knew it could not breach his perfect clay skin.
Toun carried the egg of Rottenbone Slough over to the designs of Teknall. In this new parameter for the paradise envisioned for the world, Toun's godly mind began to race with possibilities. All these new requirements to fill would send him into a frenzy to refine to perfection. What brought him to such a damning realisation was that Toun could not do everything. He needed help.
He contained himself long enough to leave the bowl containing Slough on the design parchment itself. "Sister...please...persevere." The bowl detached from Toun's body, but he immediately grew new hands and seemed to step off in several different directions at once. Under Toun's obsession, reality ran in several parallel moments.
Vowzra had already done his work. Toun stepped up in front of him with a start, angled his head, huffed, and sprang away. There was nothing else he needed from him that had not already been laid out. Time was a constant march now.
Logos, the original architect of order in this world. He had already stymied Toun's aspirations before he even knew to act. Toun stepped up close to his face, such that in the glossy white of his head, Logos could see the reflection of his shining eyes. Toun had only brief, quivering, almost crazed words for him. "Brother. We seek to build more from this world. Please see that we do not break your code lest our designs spiral into destruction." With that, Toun shot off as well.
Niciel. The pure hearted spirit from which all virtue was rooted. Toun came up just as close to her. His words were more level, if only because it was difficult to be unsteady around her. "Sister. Please see that our plans are not corrupted by minds of suffering." Toun stepped away as suddenly as he arrived.
Zephyron was the first god that Toun confronted and flinched back from. This was a force that could undermine all. Indiscriminate and deadly. Toun exhaled harshly in disgust and left the roiling storm alone. If any change were to help, Toun would not be the one to suggest it. Then again, the adversity of Zephyron could serve to harden their creation like heating a metal. Toun decided to allow Zephyron to go about his business than warn him away.
Varkarlon and Daegon. It was almost difficult to spot the deceitful beings. They had stayed back, likely waiting for something to impress their talents upon. Toun gave them each a sideways glance, tsked, and stepped away without a word. Their games could come after their great designs were complete, not before.
Vestec was a beast that Toun found to be a waste of time. The objective of this creature was to undo anything they created. Toun lifted his upper lip in disdain and stepped away. He noted the identity of the one that would try to exploit any weaknesses of their design.
The spirit of war, Kyre, was one that Toun found an inspiration from. Not because of the conflict he represented, but the converse unity. Toun took the great warrior by the shoulders, held his face close such that his reflection was seen as well on Toun's face, and spoke with quiet zeal. "Brother. I beseech you to keep our design safe. All its creators must unite to prevent its destruction."
Julkofyr required a few impossible steps to find, camouflaged as he was. As soon as Toun found his form, he gasped in realisation. The darkness was already ingrained in the very universe being created. Julkofyr was already part of the grand plan. Toun gave no instructions and left the darkness to its own devices.
Jvan's opening comment brushed over Toun's body like it was nothing. Beauty was not something he was concerned with, especially with his focus purely upon this new project of creating a the paradise for them all. When he stepped up close to her, Toun was initially both enchanted and taken aback at the same time simply by confronting Jvan. For a pivotal moment, he forgot her motivations, the damage he could do. He gave in to an inspiration in his mind and spoke. "Sister. The life we wish to foster requires flesh to live in. If you could only donate but a morsel so we may shape it, it would be built upon with greater potential than any clay I could shape."
Toun shot away to allow Jvan to consider. There were still other beings to speak to.
Death. Reathos. Toun understood his purpose. It was the unfortunate flaw of life that it must always be recycled into death at the rate that it is made anew. Toun confronted Reathos in a similar way to the others. The reflection on Toun's glossy face almost imposed the image of a skull into his head. It was metallic and cold, like the aspect of death before him. "Brother. Please do your duty when we are done. Keep this world's life in balance lest it swallow itself."
The scintillating muse known as Ilunabar did not inspire Toun directly to give her a role. Her presence already filled it. She served as inspiration to a countless number of patterns and problems in Toun's mind regarding the design of their new paradise.
Toun simply took Ilunabar by the upper arms and reflected her face to her like everyone else. "Sister. Please, never cease to provide creativity. It is the key to the vault of our solutions."
Rather than step up to Astarte, the mercurial goddess of the arcane, Toun had to take flight with her. When he finally caught up behind her, Toun flew parallel to her, facing her back and staring at her potential. "Sister," Toun said past sensation of movement. Again, his tone was quivering and obsessed with what he was creating. "You are unclear to me. However, your power may lend a resistance to destruction. Please, allow our creation ways to protect itself where order limits its survival."
"Ull'Yang!" Toun stepped up to the newly arrived and crystalline god. He knew exactly the role for this one to play. He had so much unbridled energy within him. "Brother. See the life of Slough, her life of suffering. She is spreading mindlessly thin, as per her nature. Without nourishment, she will surely die. Please, feed our creation. Renew its vigour so that paradise may reign unobstructed."
And so it was that Toun pleaded to all the gods yet to make themselves apparent. Little did he know the folly of his pleas. The recipe he was trying to stir was unstable, fragile. In his obsession, we was trying desperately to keep up with complications upon complications. All these measures and countermeasures were ripe for meddling, but he would not stop until he saw it all created.
With Slough protected beside him, Toun continued to scratch upon the designs of Teknall, taking leads from him as he took leads from Toun. They were together architect and engineer in one. They only awaited the components to see their magnum opus created.
Country Australia:
Vita! Post, sil vous plait!
I have thought about Toun's entrance. I've even taken some notes, which is madness this early on. However, the post is going to take a while, so I'll have to finish it tomorrow.
As hints, I'll not have Toun go full crazy until the BB itself, but he'll be interacting with Slough, Teknall, and maybe others.
If everyone could be so kind as to leave the plunger for the big bang untouched until tomorrow at least, that would be awesome.
As hints, I'll not have Toun go full crazy until the BB itself, but he'll be interacting with Slough, Teknall, and maybe others.
If everyone could be so kind as to leave the plunger for the big bang untouched until tomorrow at least, that would be awesome.
In response to Ma'tanza, Tzirret smiled widely and ran his hands through the fur on the back of Ma'tanza's neck. He took a slow breath in as if to speak, but was interrupted as Ma'tanza held onto him more tightly. In his blissful state, he almost said that he loved her, but her comment about the cold and the extra second to let more rational thoughts in put those words aside.
"Oh, you must be cold. Sorry." Tzirret's smile faded, but he had a soft expression, "Tzirret is used to it, but he forgets that there is little cold where Ma'tanza lives. Here," Tzirret kissed her for another few moments, and then smiled and began to sit up.
Tzirret intended to start heading down the hill with Ma'tanza, but looking down the ridge proved it to look more treacherous in the dark, even with the dim definition allowed by their eyes. Instead, Tzirret looked to Ma'tanza unsurely, but not necessarily in his regular defeatist worrying. There was more contemplation to his expression.
After another few seconds, Tzirret made a decision. He stood up, gently holding a hand against Ma'tanza's shoulder. "Lay back for a moment. This one will give you a lift back." With that, Tzirret squatted and transformed. He had not been able to hunt for a while, but with how bold and elated he felt tonight, he felt as though he had enough control for this simple task. Once the transformation was complete, Tzirret's beast form craned his head down to sniff at the air over Ma'tanza. The next movement was more sudden. With a great sweeping heft, Tzirret dug his clawed hands under the bedroll and picked it up in his arms, Ma'tanza, satchel, and all. With Ma'tanza safely wrapped up in the warm bedroll against the wind, Tzirret made his way down the ridge of the hill with sure feet.
The rest of the short walk was at a gentle pace. Tzirret's beast form seemed surprisingly calm as he carried Ma'tanza, gently holding her like something precious. It was in contrast to the excitable creature that Ma'tanza hunted with before they entered the desert. It wasn't until they reached the gate that Tzirret carefully set Ma'tanza down and seated himself on his haunches to try and transform back. It would take a short while, but he wanted to stay with Ma'tanza for a little longer at least.
Gallus' brow was still raised, but he gave a tight, sturgeon frown and a nod. "How clever," he commented as he went to retrieve a staff and a chunk of meat, "I'll have to see it to believe it, but if it works, I'll have to tell everyone at home about this. Fantastic..."
Before another moment passed, Gallus held the thorny staff forward with a half a skinned jackal in his other hand. He pulled an odd face for a moment and shook the staff for a moment. "Hmf, my apologies, it has been some time since I have had to use one of...aha!"
A roiling bulb of purple conjuration magic materialised at the tip of the staff. Immediately following was the sound of a harsh thrum and tear as light dilated around an area on the floor. A large purple ovoid sprung out into reality for but a second, shrinking into nothingness just as quickly. In its place was a short, thin, toothy, and pointy eared creature that looked up at Gallus expectantly. Gallus wrinkled his nose at the smell, but stepped back and allowed Ri'vashi to demonstrate the technique.
"Oh, you must be cold. Sorry." Tzirret's smile faded, but he had a soft expression, "Tzirret is used to it, but he forgets that there is little cold where Ma'tanza lives. Here," Tzirret kissed her for another few moments, and then smiled and began to sit up.
Tzirret intended to start heading down the hill with Ma'tanza, but looking down the ridge proved it to look more treacherous in the dark, even with the dim definition allowed by their eyes. Instead, Tzirret looked to Ma'tanza unsurely, but not necessarily in his regular defeatist worrying. There was more contemplation to his expression.
After another few seconds, Tzirret made a decision. He stood up, gently holding a hand against Ma'tanza's shoulder. "Lay back for a moment. This one will give you a lift back." With that, Tzirret squatted and transformed. He had not been able to hunt for a while, but with how bold and elated he felt tonight, he felt as though he had enough control for this simple task. Once the transformation was complete, Tzirret's beast form craned his head down to sniff at the air over Ma'tanza. The next movement was more sudden. With a great sweeping heft, Tzirret dug his clawed hands under the bedroll and picked it up in his arms, Ma'tanza, satchel, and all. With Ma'tanza safely wrapped up in the warm bedroll against the wind, Tzirret made his way down the ridge of the hill with sure feet.
The rest of the short walk was at a gentle pace. Tzirret's beast form seemed surprisingly calm as he carried Ma'tanza, gently holding her like something precious. It was in contrast to the excitable creature that Ma'tanza hunted with before they entered the desert. It wasn't until they reached the gate that Tzirret carefully set Ma'tanza down and seated himself on his haunches to try and transform back. It would take a short while, but he wanted to stay with Ma'tanza for a little longer at least.
Gallus' brow was still raised, but he gave a tight, sturgeon frown and a nod. "How clever," he commented as he went to retrieve a staff and a chunk of meat, "I'll have to see it to believe it, but if it works, I'll have to tell everyone at home about this. Fantastic..."
Before another moment passed, Gallus held the thorny staff forward with a half a skinned jackal in his other hand. He pulled an odd face for a moment and shook the staff for a moment. "Hmf, my apologies, it has been some time since I have had to use one of...aha!"
A roiling bulb of purple conjuration magic materialised at the tip of the staff. Immediately following was the sound of a harsh thrum and tear as light dilated around an area on the floor. A large purple ovoid sprung out into reality for but a second, shrinking into nothingness just as quickly. In its place was a short, thin, toothy, and pointy eared creature that looked up at Gallus expectantly. Gallus wrinkled his nose at the smell, but stepped back and allowed Ri'vashi to demonstrate the technique.
Alright, work time. G'night!
Being that Tzirret had never passionately kissed someone out of pure affection with the same in return, he wallowed in the moment for as long as he could. Whenever it seemed as if he was slowing down, he would reassure his grip on Ma'tanza and redouble the passion. He didn't much care about the creeping cold at all.
After a while, out of seeking comfort or more closeness, Tzirret and Ma'tanza laid out on the bedroll while they kissed. Tzirret of course felt physical desires, but knew them well enough to recognise them and keep himself restrained.
It must have been at least an hour that passed before there was any other form of communication between the pair. Their lips parted reluctantly, leaving smaller kisses in an effort to keep going. Tzirret finally stopped and held his forehead against Ma'tanza's. With a deep sigh, he breathed, "This one has lived no better night than this."
Gallus pulled a humble smile. "You flatter me, clan leader. Best of luck for your future endeavours."
When the subject went to sating beast spirits, Gallus lifted his brow in surprise. "Other ways? Well, now that you mention it, there wasn't really anything to hunt in the desert. You've piqued my curiosity." Gallus strode to the weapon rack and replaced his chosen armaments. "What are these other ways? Fighting? I know I could stand to sate my beast spirit, but it might be a bit difficult after transforming earlier today."
After a while, out of seeking comfort or more closeness, Tzirret and Ma'tanza laid out on the bedroll while they kissed. Tzirret of course felt physical desires, but knew them well enough to recognise them and keep himself restrained.
It must have been at least an hour that passed before there was any other form of communication between the pair. Their lips parted reluctantly, leaving smaller kisses in an effort to keep going. Tzirret finally stopped and held his forehead against Ma'tanza's. With a deep sigh, he breathed, "This one has lived no better night than this."
Gallus pulled a humble smile. "You flatter me, clan leader. Best of luck for your future endeavours."
When the subject went to sating beast spirits, Gallus lifted his brow in surprise. "Other ways? Well, now that you mention it, there wasn't really anything to hunt in the desert. You've piqued my curiosity." Gallus strode to the weapon rack and replaced his chosen armaments. "What are these other ways? Fighting? I know I could stand to sate my beast spirit, but it might be a bit difficult after transforming earlier today."
I will write something up after work.
Tzirret's mind burned as Ma'tanza got closer. Hearing his feelings get reciprocated was one thing, but he thought his head might explode when she kissed his cheek.
With him still holding onto her loosely, Tzirret sat agape and focussed his stare into Ma'tanza's eyes. He wasn't there anymore, not in a desert or on rocky crags. There was no moon or stars or anything. The only thing he was experiencing was the feel of her soft fur under his hands, her eyes, and the sensation of closing the gap between them. He moved without any further worries haunting him, bringing his arms around Ma'tanza's body, closing his eyes, and pressing his lips against hers.
The fear in Tzirret's mind had gone from worry to thrill at this point. Whether or not Ma'tanza felt the same way, he knew that taking this chance would only have been more difficult later on. Just this once, he had to overcome the limits of his temperament on his own. He did, and it was terrifying.
"Ah!" Gallus exclaimed as his wrist was caught out of the air. After a short struggle, Gallus' strength was overcome by better leverage and he was left to ponder just how Ri'vashi knew what his movements would be. Either he was so rusty that he was telegraphing too much, or she had some kind of sixth sense.
"Say what you like, Ri'vashi, but let it be known that you have a better combat instinct than any old coot of an advisor." Gallus said painfully. When he tapped for mercy and was let go, he took a moment to rub his strained arm and loosen up again. "I do not know how you could convince Dro'cahi about prioritising the war, I don't know him. But...it sounds like this attack on the stronghold, if it proves possible, could be an opportunity to prove yourself. Use what you are good at; your keen eye, your reflexes, your intuition, and your training. Then you'll at least have a platform of respect to stand up on. How does that sound?"
With him still holding onto her loosely, Tzirret sat agape and focussed his stare into Ma'tanza's eyes. He wasn't there anymore, not in a desert or on rocky crags. There was no moon or stars or anything. The only thing he was experiencing was the feel of her soft fur under his hands, her eyes, and the sensation of closing the gap between them. He moved without any further worries haunting him, bringing his arms around Ma'tanza's body, closing his eyes, and pressing his lips against hers.
The fear in Tzirret's mind had gone from worry to thrill at this point. Whether or not Ma'tanza felt the same way, he knew that taking this chance would only have been more difficult later on. Just this once, he had to overcome the limits of his temperament on his own. He did, and it was terrifying.
"Ah!" Gallus exclaimed as his wrist was caught out of the air. After a short struggle, Gallus' strength was overcome by better leverage and he was left to ponder just how Ri'vashi knew what his movements would be. Either he was so rusty that he was telegraphing too much, or she had some kind of sixth sense.
"Say what you like, Ri'vashi, but let it be known that you have a better combat instinct than any old coot of an advisor." Gallus said painfully. When he tapped for mercy and was let go, he took a moment to rub his strained arm and loosen up again. "I do not know how you could convince Dro'cahi about prioritising the war, I don't know him. But...it sounds like this attack on the stronghold, if it proves possible, could be an opportunity to prove yourself. Use what you are good at; your keen eye, your reflexes, your intuition, and your training. Then you'll at least have a platform of respect to stand up on. How does that sound?"
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