A Rest in the Rain (Open)

[balraun]

Thousands of tiny drops poured into the River Moss, casting ripples throughout the water. A rather large figure slowly marched towards the water's edge. Raindrops made loud, plopping sounds as they landed atop the figure's enormous hat. Then the water collected, running streams down the figure's jacket. Underneath all the clothing was a exceptionally dry fox, though he was a bit perturbed with the drenched feather atop his hat.

Upon reaching the waters, the figure stood for a moment staring into the water with one wide opened eye. His expression was blank as he gazed into the reflection of himself, which was obviously disturbed by the ripples on the surface. Moments later he'd abruptly plop down on the shore, water splashing beneath him, an all together random action. Raising up his left hand, he began unweaving a bottle strung on his hat. He was cautious not to take the one to it's right as this was a bit of poison. What he had was a bottle of honey, and sufficing his sweet tooth he downed the bottle. He made sure he cleaned the bottle of every drop before filling it with water from the river. Then taking some mud, he'd mix it into the bottle. Yes, it was just muddy water, but he'd string it back to his hat knowing it would match well with all his other trinkets.

[Cressida.]

There was a faint sound of crunching leaves beneath her paws as she approached the figure into the distance. The golden-furred squirrel was deeply perturbed by the fact that none of the otters who lived here had not yet bounded upon the ugly canine. Unfortunately, she had long since lost the element of surprise due to her poor stealth skills and the loud squelching sound that her damp paws made every time that she pulled it out of the soggy riverbank mud. Despite her rather noisy approach, her own appearance was hidden behind a rather thick patch of ferns, and she still had an advantage.

Leaning closer to the plants and straining her tomato-like eyes to catch a site of the large-framed figure through the now heavy rain. As Cressida's aureate paw strayed back instinctively towards her bow, is stopped midway when her optics caught sight of his motions. Once more, she bent in more, scarcely breathing. The strain of keeping herself quiet combined with refraining from dragging her muddy foot paw out of the ground was starting to prick her heartbeat. Could his sharp, attentive ears hear the thumping through the constant, steady pitter-patter of the rain? Her jaw was moving up and down as she debated whether to signal to her companion, Argy, with her dripping tail or simply call out to him; she resolved by shoving her moist paw [[now in the shape of a fist]] into her mouth.

Did he just ... fill a bottle with muddy water and ... tie it around his hat? He must be off of his rocker. Deciding that it was time to take action, she hoisted her extremity out of the the mire with a final squelch and stepped out of the shelter of the ferns.

"Why 'ello there, sir. 'Tis a pity that you don't have any more of your foul kind skulking in the proximity." By the time that Cressa had spoken, her soaked, chilled paws were gripping her fully-equipped whitewood bow. The arrow quivered dangerously as she aimed it loosely at the fox with a relaxed expression. She wasn't exactly worried about a sudden ambush from him; Argy was always hanging around, and the sly, witty youngster would quickly leap to her aid. "Kindly explain your unwanted presence in this neck of Mossflower, sir."

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[balraun]

((OOC: Sorry if it’s choppy, I rushed it))

Balraun knew there was a presence about, knew that he was no longer alone. He knew this long before he caught the sounds which the beast made, the sound of the bow string stretching back. It was foolish to make so much noise, but it mattered non the less. In this world each beast gave off a strength that he as a seer could feel, he believed it was one's history that gave off this strength.

The fox would sit still for a while appearing to disregard the words that the beast uttered. He needn’t make a run for it, there was really no reason for any actions. He was not a beast of action, thus would end up dead if he did try anything. He committed no crime, only aroused suspicion because he was born a fox. He had to do something though, otherwise he'd have an arrow in his back. Words could heal tension, and he was about to prove himself as a mere seer looking for the few little tips of those who wished to know their fortunes.

He turned himself to face the beast. Trinkets all dancing with the movement, clattering against each other in a rampage of noise. His one eye came to a wide stare, scanning the golden squirrel. "Pity eh? Pity be that a beastie can't roam these lands without a quiver loosing some weight at his sight. You Ms. Cressida, think that I am up to no good because I am a fox." He raised up his right arm to scratch his ear, not because it itched but to show the beast that he really only had one arm. He was not much of a threat, not physically anyway. "Now your wondering how on earth I know your calling? Well I know much more about you, I'm a traveling seer hence my being here."

[Cressida.]

[[Ahah, 'sokay. ^ ^; I can't say anything since your posts are still better than mine. x3

.. Sudden muse loss.]]

As the creature began speaking, it took her but two heartbeats to realize that the poor beast had only one arm. Feeling a curtain of guilt descend over her for blaming a disadvantaged fox of crimes, the aurulent squirrel quickly deposited the arrow back into its rightful place - its quiver. She was still slightly apprehensive and cautious of any funny business, she edged closer inch by inch until she was but two tail-lengths from him. Suddenly, Cressa froze at the mention of her name in the form of a foreign voice. He.. he knows my name?! Shocked and now quivering slightly with anxiety, the female stared at him dumbly. When Balraun began to gave an explanation of himself, instead of feeling more secure, Cressida's jaw dropped open by at least two inches before snapping shut again.

"A seer, eh? Not many of those around these parts,

[/b]" she muttered cautiously to him, her paw hanging dangerously near her quiver should he make any sudden movements. Deciding not to give him any slack until Argy came by to settle this evenly, she gave him a cool stare with her coralline eyes. "That still doesn't give you the clear, sir. With all due respect, my job is to strictly hunt down any trouble-causing vermin in Mossflower.[/b]" Once these words left her mouth, Cressa knew that she would have a hard time proving her beliefs to him. It was hard for her to admit that she had no hard evidence aside from the fact that he was a fox ... and to admit her dislike of him just for his species was considered racism.

Now racking through her brains for any valid, justifiable reason for her suspicions, she attempted to stall out the time. "Simply knowing m'name isn't exactly an accomplishment, sir Fox. However, since you now know mine, I would like the pleasure of knowing yours.[/b]" Her ear twitched absentmindedly. "After all, one cannot simply survive a conversation by giving the other an indefinite name." Sir Fox ... Well aren't you clever, Missus Cressida Orchid DeLuna? she thought to herself rather smugly, even if her words were a tad sarcastic.[/blockquote][/size][/font]

[balraun]

((OOC: I see nothing wrong with your posts, there very good. I mostly wolf RP though, I'm a lot more comfortable playing a wolf or at least something on all fours.))

"Ah but me wretched self is causing no trouble. Every beast must make a living, mine be traveling about telling fortunes. In return I only want a wee tip, something that'll help me stay alive." He watched her lower the bow, a foolish move at the most. A smirk played across his well hidden face, though he had no intention of doing anything. If he were the Cressida, he would have kept the bow locked on. Then again he could tell she was still cautious, and the mention of him being a seer seemed to make her only more eager to whip that bow right back into aim.

"I don't blame you of course, most of my brothers are wicked beasties. I am not like them of course, I have an ability that separates me from them. My calling should not matter to you, and as a seer I find it makes me much more mysterious if you do not know. Though...seen as how you could send me to Dark Forest at any moment, I shall tell you. Tis Balraun Darkthorn, the lone seer, the teller of fortunes unfolly, and the altogether mysterious." He spoke in an almost enthusiastic, spectacular fashion. It was a way that almost advertised he, and his fortunes. A skill learned from experience, a skill that always caught the attention of little dubbuns. "Ah but your name is not all that I know, that lovely pendant you wear. Was it not given to you when you were born, perhaps by some beastie named Maybelle? Your mother?

[Cressida.]

[[You flatter me. xD -nods- I'm used to role-playing felines, so playing as a squirrel is a big step for me. For one, they don't purr. O-o' ]]

Twitch. Twitch. Glare. The vain, arrogant squirrel might've been imagining it, but was said fox getting cheeky with her? Sending a few more daggers at the mysterious character, she paused for a few seconds white listening attentively to his small speech, unfocusing every now and then to reflect on his words. Oh puhlease.. she thought, wincing. Although the female could find nothing against him, she wanted to believe that he was up to no good, and she would therefore have a valid reason to let the arrow fly. At least it's a good story compared to the tales that some of those other foul vermin give us.. they're tall enough to match Argy's.

Crossing her arms and shifting her weight from one paw to another, Cressa eyed him beadily before murmuring, "Balraun Darkthorn, huh. Well tickle me tail, that's just about the fakest alibi I've ever heard

[/b]." Yet, she found herself frustrated all over again when she realized that this was nothing to put a death sentence on the canine's head. She had to restrain herself from laughing at his ecstatic, cunning attitude when he gave her his full 'title'. Rolling her coralline eyes, Cressida found herself thinking, He should get together with Argy. The both of them could outbrag any creature. A smirk crossed her pulchridutinous features at the thought of her arrogant, argent-furred friend.

That's when the words drifted lazily towards her absentminded ears. "... that lovely pendant you wear. Was it not given to you when you were born, perhaps by some beastie named Maybelle? ..." Cressie's eyes widened inconscpicuously. He.. He knows my mother's name? Immediately her suspicions soared, more out of fear than from prejudice. "You.. You are no Seer. A gifted fox, maybe, but the devil's work nonetheless[/b]." Her voice trembled slightly. He knew her mother ... was he the only one who knew her name? Her location? If not, then she would have no choice but to eliminate those who did - for her mother's safety. After all, Maybell was no more a young, fighting spirit. She was old and frail, barely capable of standing up without the support of her thick, oak staff. With her arrow trembling directly at the fox's head, she strained her left eye in order to line up.[/blockquote][/font][/size]