Nemaisare

Underneath

Well, and ‘e sure ‘as some fancy words, doan ‘e?

He didn’t, really, but while he had difficulty with her accent, so she had some with his word choice. Not much, if she was being truly honest. It was more that Herring never considered any sentence starting or finishing with an accusatory you wouldn’t know, or anything with similar intent, deserving of a proper listening ear. Wasn’t any reason to hear a stranger imagining they knew anything at all about her, was there now?

Granted, most of this fellow’s assumptions were true. She’d never been strung up or beaten, had never been told she was vile or worthless—the very idea had her tilting her head again—she didn’t know what it was like to live his life anymore than he could know hers. Didn’t change the fact that he was pretending he did. It left her standing with her free hand on her hip, head still angled back and to the side in a manner that suggested confidence while her still narrowed eyes allowed for a hint of uncertainty. She didn’t have a plan for strangers who weren’t lost or here for glory. One you led out of the trees, and the rest you left to follow their destinies to an early grave or a new life. She didn’t deal with strangers, and she hadn’t the faintest clue how to treat his outburst.

Was she supposed to know how to respond to that?

Did he mean her to feel sorry for him? Because he was still walking where he wasn’t wanted, no matter what set his boots in this direction. She might have gotten angry in turn, traded outburst for outburst, but a quick puff of air to get the hair out of her face reminded her that she was tired and didn’t care. He was letting out steam like a kettle reaching boiling point, probably didn’t have a thing to do with her and if she only waited him out… there, see? The man cut himself off conspicuously, making no effort to apologise or explain himself.

Either way, she was only glad he’d stopped and didn’t seem to want her to pay it any attention. So, she pretended like he’d held his tongue properly the whole while, and even ignored the way his hands went to his wrists. Memory or recent affectation, she wasn’t going to care. He had his problems and she had hers, and unfortunately for him, he was hers.

And whatever he thought about her just now, reasonable assumptions aside, she didn’t feel the slightest sense of concern over his life up until now. Why should she? So, when he jumped back to the idea of a dragon, Herring continued staring at him.

Bringing her basket to the front so she could hold it there with both hands, and taking advantage of the height their respective positions afforded her, she made it clear she wasn’t just physically looking down on him. Making demands no please or thank you like that… her laugh, when it came, arrived after a suitably lengthy pause to make sure it was obviously mocking. And she leaned forward over the acorns ever so slightly, using what he gave her to make her message clear. If the rest of the world didn’t want him, she saw no reason to act any differently. She wasn’t going to beat him, but she wasn’t just going to do what he wanted, either. And it wasn’t just because there wasn’t any dragon.

“What makes ye think I’ve any knowin’ on where that beastie kips? Better for us both I show ye th’hole y’ought t’crawl int’ like a proper rabbit so’s isnit any trouble whate’er it be ye brung t’th’forest.” She didn’t like biding by doing as she was told. And she saw no reason to play nice now. If he was only here to hide from the rest of the world, then he could find himself some other hole and hide there. She wasn’t looking for company.

“Doan need a monster lettin’ loose round ‘ere, do I? Isnit any a one needin’ that.” Straightening up, Herring sniffed and turned away to leave him to it, whatever it might be, since he apparently wanted to join the vaunted ranks of dead heroes. She didn’t need to waste more time on him, and wasn’t about to explain that he was barking up the wrong tree looking for dragons here. There wasn’t enough light left to go back to work, but she had other chores to finish up before heading to bed.

So, off she went, muttering to herself. “Waste a time an’ good mem’ries, all these ‘ere fools. Right plague a’them.”

Sanctuary

The lights went out.

In the dark instant that followed, a shout rose from below. Panicked and shaken, breaking the evening’s casual relaxation as surely as the thump and rattle of a body flinging itself against a door. Between sobbing breaths, faces poked around corners and over couches, as the Morgans each turned surprise and trepidation towards the guest room where the stranger they’d offered a night’s shelter was kicking up such a fuss. “Hey, hey, woah now, it’s only the power’s out, be back on soon’s be, reckon. Easy there, fella.” Three children stared, wide-eyed, as their father reached for the door handle and paused only briefly at the heavy crash behind it.

When he and his wife rushed into the room, they found the kid’s bag left behind, and a broken window. The only thing missing was a china figurine from the mantel, but they found it two days later on the porch. Along with an apologetic note. They didn’t see him again.

***

Thunk!

Brakes screamed shrill protest as the woman’s leg locked straight in panic spurred adrenaline. The truck wobbled, back end drifting, but came to a stop still more or less parallel to the road. Swearing, she looked in the mirror for the deer that had run out in front of her, knowing without wanting to admit it that the hit had been too solid to leave it standing. Wishing they weren’t so fast, wondering where in all hell it had jumped out from. What had it leaping into her way when it could have gone the other and lived?

The shadowy silhouette that slipped up out of the ditch as she finally saw the deer in her rearview mirror was large and eerie in the sudden quiet. Witchfire glow lighting up its eyes as it glanced her way a long moment before turning to the dying deer and dragging it, in a series of sharp tugs, back into the shadows where her lights couldn’t reach.

A wolf? So near the city? More likely a big dog, with surprisingly good timing…. Without really thinking, the woman rolled up her windows before she set off again, and she couldn’t help looking back more than once, but the creature must have hauled the carcass into the ditch by then, out of sight and in the shadows. She’d have to ask someone if wolves often came this way.

***

Old Abe, from up the way, swore he saw some varmint sneaking about near his goat shed, setting the flock into fussing. But when he went and grabbed his gun, wasn’t hide nor hair of it, not a single thing but a footprint. Darndest thing though: looked human. Musta been a bear.

Old man’s eyes aren’t what they used to be.

***

The beautiful day ahead had turned into stormy skies and angry rumbles. He’d known it was coming. He’d smelled the rain on the wind, felt the tension rising. But he’d thought he’d have more time to find some shelter. Trouble was, he didn’t know the area. Hadn’t known where he was almost from the start. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he’d crossed the border yet or was still in Canada. It wasn’t like territories were only a human concept, but rocks and plants definitely didn’t care either way, and he’d mostly been avoiding roads. They’d made walking easier, but they weren’t exactly the safest places when cars came barrelling out of nowhere.

Another few seconds, and that deer he’d been chasing might have gotten off home free, and he’d be the one lying there…

At the time, Addison hadn’t thought about it. He’d been too busy making the most of a good opportunity. Filling his empty stomach. It was only later, replete and satisfied, that his mind had flashed back to that split second’s hesitation and fear he’d felt. To the broken deer, the truck’s taillights flashing bright and swaying as the driver straightened out and kept going after a long, long pause. That could have been him. And even if it wasn’t, a smaller car, or a less experienced driver… Someone else might have died. And it would have been his fault. He didn’t need to risk his own or anyone else’s life more than he already did for a meal. Even if it was probably the only way he’d catch a meal. Better to wash dishes, if it came to that.

Only, that meant following roads again. Well, country roads had less traffic, and slower, usually. So, after a while, he’d found himself another one. Not quite a dirt track, but it hardly looked like it had two lanes, let alone enough to be a highway, and there were plenty of turn-offs here, down long driveways. Dogs had been barking at him from just about every second house for the last two hours. But he’d politely ignored them and kept on. And now, here he was, drenched within seconds by the downpour, daylight suddenly dark as twilight, no public roof in sight, every barn guarded by dogs, and him too shy to go knocking on doors again after the last time.

The memory still made him flush warmly, so, asking for shelter was out as an option. But, before he gave up entirely, Addison decided to give hitchhiking a go. Might get him somewhere he could stay, and let him keep going for a bit, too. Not to mention, if he could ask someone where the hell he was, that would be great. Just as long as the map in his bag, which was currently dribbling a steady stream of somehow colder than the rain rainwater down his back, was still legible. Because otherwise, yeah, he was lost. Not a horrible thing. Wasn’t like he’d been going anywhere to start with, but he was thinking that maybe he should start thinking about that. About having a destination, because sooner or later, he’d hit ocean, and then what? Couldn’t swim that.

Without a goal, there wasn’t much point in moving forward, after a certain point, and he didn’t know what he was looking for. Made him restless, even though he’d been on the move almost every day for the past month.

So, making a miserable picture on the side of the road, sodden, hunched against the wind, dark hair slicked to his head and dripping into his eyes, shorts doing absolutely nothing to keep out the chill, Addison kept on. One soggy shoe in front of the other, hand out whenever he saw light flashing off the water on the road. Three cars in slow succession went on past… One, considerately, went wide so as not to splash him. The thought was nice, but the effort pointless, he was already as wet as you could get. With the light rapidly fading despite it being only mid-afternoon, Addison figured that the rate of traffic might give him two, maybe three more chances before he’d need to ditch the road and risk a dogfight to get out of the rain. He was already shivering. It was friggin’ cold.

Sanctuary

I've written stuff, oh so impressive of me. lol

Underneath

Glad you like! And now, to sleep with me! And you, maybe, yes...

Underneath

Heee. :D It was just too perfect an opportunity to pass up. He just had to be laughed at. Poor fellow.

Underneath

It was not Herring’s usual practice to address any stranger that came tromping in between the trees like they owned the place. Ordinarily, she spoke not a word to them until they hadn’t the strength to argue. Get them turned around and blundering about and, though she hated the mess they made, once she separated them (if they came in a group, at any rate) they were inclined towards starvation or making their own way out and never coming back. Many a fool hadn’t the good sense of even a sparrow, and ate the least likeliest things to keep them alive. Turned out the wrong way round, but ended it all the quicker, leastways, though it often amounted to even more mess and greater stench, but wasn’t as though the forest was so small she couldn’t wander wide of the place for a year or so without bother. Some days, she thought it might make a better deterrent if she gathered all the skulls and set them around the borders to glare at anyone thinking the same as their previous owners.

But this fellow hadn’t come swaggering, or tromping, or blundering anywhere. He wasn’t looking to play hero. He had the shape and manner more of the huntsmen who had their look around and decided whatever had been here wasn’t anymore. Or was impossible to find. They were the ones who left of their own volition, and the ones best able to make her work all the harder in keeping track of where they wandered. They weren’t meant to go just any old where. But if they were well-mannered in their visit—and she couldn’t care less how gruff or surly a man was if he knew how to clean up after himself—sometimes she’d send them a parting gift. Nothing special, just a bit of keeping the magic alive so they wouldn’t go blabbing about that it was a perfectly ordinary forest with fine wood for logging, or great hunting for boars.

He hadn’t the least bit of preparedness about him though. So, she was of a mind to think he’d actually lost his way without her help, and the faster they fixed that, the sooner she could get back to acorn gathering. So, she spoke up, and promptly bounced off her heels when he spun so quickly, startling herself by frightening him with his leaping like a rabbit, and only scowled all the harder as he stared back. Pity it was too dim under the trees to let her see his expression, might have been a sight worth her trouble. Though not by any means comparable to forgetting the colour of her mother’s eyes.

It was strange though, she thought, as they stared each at the other, that he truly had been frightened by her. Not merely startled into reaction, but spinning into stepping back and crouching down, reaching for whatever weapon wasn’t there… And, she realized a moment later, it wasn’t the light keeping her from seeing his face, but the depth of his cowl. Her eyes narrowed even farther at the gloves… If she’d known he thought of her only as a screeching alarm to be silenced, she’d likely have thrown her basket at him and given him a proper lecture on minding his manners in someone else’s home if he wasn’t even brave enough to show his face. As it was, his first angry croak had her about to explain that sure and common sense ought to be enough for that, if he did know the stories, when he followed up with a line she’d never heard before.

Head tilting slightly, Herring couldn’t help herself. She laughed. Deep, full-throated, raucous merriment that lasted a good minute as she struggled to regain her breath and composure. “Ah, mercy. Mercy, Merry Maudlin, no. I cain breathe.” She was leaning against the tree, whooping and wheezing, as she gasped the words. Finally, she ended it with a snort, still bracing herself upright and shaking her head at this surprising fellow. “Isnit never as I 'eard th’like! Y’do be thinkin’ what grimauld minds itself a forest ‘as better manners’n th’lot as come round no knockin’? Well, Rabbit, there’s a pretty thought, only it were true.”

YOWL: a character-centric worldbuilding collab

Sounds like fun, this does!

Underneath

Eyo,

Awesomesauce. :) There's no rush, of course, but still eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. :P

Underneath

Posted, so I did. Not sure there's much there for you to do much with, but they have now met. And Herring's opinion is possibly the lowest of the low... And she doesn't even know he's a drow yet, ha!

If you need more something or other in there, lemme know. I'll be happy to provide it. :)

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

0th posts seem like a pretty nifty idea. And it gives co-GMs special abilities! Mwahahahahaha! *coughs* Yay for it working properly!

lol Nah, not aggressive, just enthusiastic. Enthusiasm is good! Though it did catch me by surprise with jumping right to Sherahd, but methinks that's probably more of a mapping issue than an enthusiasm problem. :P I'm pretty sure we had ideas somewhere in our chatter on Discord, but I can't remember exacts and I'm too lazy to scroll through all that.

Skipping ahead to either of those works great!