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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Mar 5, 2017 20:29:00 GMT
(The person who replies can decide the exact location this is at. Anywhere is ok as long as its within the magical territories)
The fire crackled warmly in the small campsite. It was simply a pony drawn wagon, a tent and a fire pit all set up by hand, set by the side of a road, not far off from a thriving civilization, for the road got a fair but not heavy stream of traffic. The pony was of course a dumb beast, but very little distinguished the owner of not being equally feral. She a fox, not much bigger than the wild kind, and covered in black fur. The biggest visible differences were that she was bipedal, wore a dress, and possessed nimble hands rather than true forepaws. She tended the fire on which was a large pot. The savory smell of meat and vegetables bubbled forth. She'd been working to make a generous pot of stew.
The fox hummed an odd melody set in an eerie minor key. If anyone recognized the tune, they would know that the story was about an elderly mother, who lost her young child to a curse, then spent her entire fortune trying to break that curse. It wasn't a song with a traditionally happy ending. The mother died in a gutter. The child did not get the chance to grow up to a happily ever after. The evil in the world seemed to have one the day.
Either because of the song, or because many didn't like her ilk, or because of being too busy, many who came down the road, on horse or on foot or with wagon either heeded her not, or actively went out of their way not to look at the foxling. She wasn't performing for show right now so that was fine.
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Post by 0 on Jul 12, 2017 19:56:54 GMT
A thinly muscled man of reddish brown skin made his way down the dirt path, with every step taken resulting in a gentle clatter of various materials. Although he was clothed plainly and simply, these undyed rags could hardly be seen past all the decorations that adorned his lean figure; piles of beads, bones, feathers, pelts, shells, skulls, stones, tools, wood, and more knocked against one another as he walked.
Despite all the objects, his movements seemed unhindered, and the noise itself wasn't all too off-putting -- in fact, the sounds were surprisingly quiet. Few items stood out from the mess, the most notable being a big object that was strapped to his back; it was a wooden board that had been attached to a turtle's shell, with strings stretching across the entire length of the object. The shell itself had been painted intricately; partially sealed, the instrument rattled as it shook across his back.
Aside from his messy choice of attire, however, the man himself held little of note about him; his hair was roughly cut, a sloppy, ropey mess riddled with mud, his hands and feet were full of freckles. The most immediately noticeable thing about him, however, was hidden for the most part by all of his decorations; every inch of skin was covered in complex, mazelike tattoos.
Moving down the road at a lackadaisical pace, he paid little mind to the others that passed him by, his attention drifting until a song swept through his ears.
The man's dusty gray eyes lifted, searching the side of the road, where he could see a fire crackling in the evening light, a large pot set upon it, and a well-dressed fox dancing about the flames, partially silhouetted against a pony-drawn wagon. He paused for a moment, listening closely to the tune, before he began to list his way over towards the bipedal fox.
A hand went to the instrument slung to his back, swinging it around his shoulders so that it would now hang in front of his chest, the turtle shell just short of his lower abdomen. As he approached, fingers began to pluck a rhythm that fell in line with the fox's, in a self-assured manner that might imply he recognized the melody.
He would pause at a respectful distance from the fox's set-up, offering up a small, friendly smile as he asked: "Mind if I join you?"
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Jul 13, 2017 17:06:36 GMT
Well someone certainly showed a talented musical ear.
The black fox dipped her head slightly, a smile dancing on her face, welcoming the newcomer while maintaining her tune.
Gradually she began a cooking dance, spinning slowly around the bubbling pot, while keeping an eye on it so the contents would not bubble over or burn. When she spoke her's were not the words of the song, yet still she followed the melody. "Welcome to my fire, warm yourself by the flames if you dare. Feel free to take my meager stew, I have plenty to share."
With a final spin, and a childish laugh, she plopped herself by the fire, signaling the end of her musical game for the time being. She could begin anew with it later if she felt like doing so. Leaning over the pot, she began to ladle the stew, which was far from meager, into a wooden bowl. "There really is enough, so help yourself. I always end up with enough for guests. If he wasn't carrying a bowl with him, she'd hold the one she had just filled out to him.
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Post by 0 on Jul 13, 2017 17:28:42 GMT
The man saved a smile in place of laughter as the fox welcomed him in, plucking the instrument and watching her dance around the pot.
When she was done, he turned the rattling banjo back around so that it was once more hanging between his shoulder blades. Satisfied with the affirmation of her rhyme alone, he took a seat with legs crossed opposite the fox, untying a clay bowl from his hip.
"I must extend my gratitude to you," the man said, holding out the bowl for her to fill with as little or as much soup as she decided to.
Earlier, his bow had broken during a failed hunt, the sheath for it now lying hidden behind his instrument. Even if civilization was near, which he had no idea whether any were, he was broke beyond belief, and the day wearing thin meant not many would be left to take his offer of work for a meal. He would have had to go hungry for the night, unless he happened to stumble across some wild edibles that needed no preparation.
He didn't say as much, but his expression was sincere enough to convey such a thought.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Jul 14, 2017 11:42:28 GMT
Shianna filled the clay bowl generously, and there would always be enough for seconds if the man wanted more. "Well you're welcome." The fox answered to his thanks. She certainly knew what it was like to go to bed hungry, or be asked to pay more than she was usually able.
Of course she was managing fine these days.
The fox allowed some time for the man to begin his meal, digging in to her own bowl of the thick savory stew.
"You look like you've traveled far?" The fox eventually prompted, leaning back slightly and setting her bowl temporarily in her lap. She was curious as to places he'd been and things he'd seen, and a good story was always appreciated.
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Post by 0 on Jul 14, 2017 15:25:41 GMT
The man took a brief, slow sip from the bowl, wanting to savor the new taste of a foreign meal. Only a few parts he could recognize, but many unfamiliar pieces comprised the taste of the stew.
After a moment of contemplation and silent thanks, the man finally dug into the stew's contents, the bowl tipping as he poured the warm fluid down his throat.
He paused, wiping some stray stew from his chin as the fox asked a question. "So do you," he told the fox with a laugh. Who else but one of long journeys would use such a wagon on her own, camping out in the evening light to the side of a road far into the countryside?
"I come from a land of deserts and rainforests," he offered, drinking the last of the stew from his bowl. He turned the bowl over on the ground, letting what few contents he could not obtain drip into the soil, seeming content with the small portion alone, or perhaps simply unwilling to take more than what was necessary.
"That's a big pot for one person," he said. "Were you expecting someone?"
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Jul 17, 2017 0:23:21 GMT
"Oh I have." The fox agreed as to how much she had traveled with her cart and her pony. "I've never seen a rainforest though I come from a more temperate forest region. not unlike this during this time of year." She was referring to the temperature mostly. In this place the trees were far more sparse than in her homeland.
"I travel as a performer." she added. Her dance and song might have hinted some of that, but why beat too much around that bush.
As for the stew had many wild plants, some which resembled common garden varieties but were not quite the same similar to radishes or potatoes,or which looked like one thing, but tasted like another, and so on. Over all it was very savory, heavily spiced with the wild plants and meats used to make it.
and he was right, she did have a very large pot of it.
"Only people like you." The fox answered cheerfully. "strangers, and travelers of the night who need a easy meal. They always come, not always the same people nor the same number, but I rarely have too much stew in the end. Sometimes there's even too little."
She didn't expect many specifically to show up, but those who did would probably be as diverse of the objects which the man carried.
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Post by 0 on Jul 17, 2017 20:45:42 GMT
The man nodded as he listened to the fox. "You must see the rainforests," he told her, smiling. "They are very beautiful; like the desert, only wet and without horizon. Many things there you would not find anywhere else."
His gaze seemed to fade for a moment, losing himself in the memory of the rainforest from his homeland. This land was a bit cold for him, although nowhere near as cold as a certain mountain he had once climbed. It at least wasn't all that cold in the moment, however; it was summer, after all, and even in the waning light the air could be mistaken for the heat of the flames.
His focus returned as she mentioned herself as a performer. He would have guessed as much, however her mentioning that only strangers visited her came as a bit of a surprise.
"Ah...," he murmured, mostly to himself; "I thought you may have been part of a troupe or a train."
Her wagon had reminded him of some of the foreigners in his homeland; small clusters of wagons bundled together in the night, nomadic peoples of the performing arts whose roamings were simply a part of their lifestyle, or the long wagon trains that journeyed through the most dangerous parts of the wilderness, pioneers seeking better homes.
He leaned back, staring into the flickering flames, one finger brushing against the upturned bowl. He could hear someone else passing behind him on the road, and after those footsteps had gone he asked the fox, "Do you happen to play any instruments? Or do you only sing and dance?"
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Jul 18, 2017 19:54:46 GMT
"Shianna prodded the fire with a stick, adjusting the burning wood so that it would not smolder. "It surely is. Each place has it's charm somehow." She knew. Unfortunately you probably could not get a wagon through the rain forest very easily. Getting there and navigating might be difficult.
"Oh I was in a group once, but I split off for more adventure." the black fox explained. It was probably a long story, but she preferred to skim over parts of it for the moment.
It wasn't in her paws before, the small flute like instrument she pulled out from thin air it seemed. That was a very simple slight of hand trick. She tossed the Ocarina casually in the air. "flute, tambourine. not really a talent with either." she downplayed her ability in the musical regard. "and other tricks, not very musical."
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Post by 0 on Jul 18, 2017 23:32:04 GMT
As the names of instruments were mentioned, the man's eyes looked through the fire at the fox, watching as she spun an object in the air, pulled skillfully from what would appear to be nowhere. Reaching forward, he lifted the upturned bowl from the ground, and began to push himself back to his feet, objects clattering lightly against one another.
"You said you're a performer?" he said. "Don't be shy -- go on and play!"
He removed yet another item from his body; a small, club-like stick. Holding the clay bowl like a limp noodle, he began to tap out a beat on its bumpy surface, a constant wooden rhythm like that of a metronome.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Jul 20, 2017 18:23:31 GMT
The current time was an off-time, a time where she was not intentionally putting on a show or keeping an act together for an audience to observe. Still, the fox jumped up to her feet on cue as she caught her pocket instrument.
Then she began to play.
The melody danced between the downbeats, embellishing the tempo set with a variation on a common dance tune used in a few seasonal festivals.
It was not a tune commonly heard on this sort of flute.
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Post by 0 on Jul 20, 2017 18:38:33 GMT
As she began to play, the man lowered the sound of his makeshift metronome, listening keenly to the tune that was being played. It was a familiar rhythm, but not a tune that he readily knew. A bare foot tapped with the beat of his stick against the bowl, watching curiously as to how the fox played that strange instrument.
His ears weren't used to the sight or sound of woodwinds, and it took a moment for his ears to adjust, but once they did he found himself quite enjoying the song, and trying to memorize it so that he might attempt to replicate it on his banjo later.
As the song wound down, the man began to hook the bowl and stick back to his belt. Once it was done, he would applaud her with a smile and a few teasing words; "'No talent', she says."
The man twisted his body, reaching around for something else on his person; pulling it out, he held it as an offering to the fox.
It was a small wooden carving, a simple thing, of what looked to be a deer standing on a log, though its legs were too short, and its antlers were anything but impressive, only small curving prongs. It was unembellished and unpainted, even rough in places, though much of this was done to mimic the texture of fur and wood.
"It is a pudú," the man explained to the fox. "Small deer from my homeland.
"Take it as thanks for your kindness. And beautiful music."
His words would seem to suggest that he was preparing to leave, and, indeed, whether she took it or not (returning it to his person with something of a frown if she refused), he would straighten his spine and begin to turn away.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Jul 23, 2017 0:00:07 GMT
When the song was done, the flute vanished as quickly as it had appeared, this time replaced by a puff of sparks, glowing red against the darkness. The young fox smiled at the tease, chuckling softly. It seemed the definition of talent really did depend on who happened to be the critic.
Speaking of art, there was offered another, this time a sculptural form instead of a musical one. Gently she took the offered wooden craft, holding it up to examine it in the light of the fire. "Its lovely, did you make this?" Her fingers stroked the deer, noting the careful detail of it's carving.
Dark keen eyes noticed the man preparing to leave her company. She raised her brow questioningly. "Heading out at again at this hour?" She asked. "I've never known men (as in the human race and their offshoots) to be nocturnal unless they have to be. You could linger here to rest." She offered, willing to share any security and comfort she possessed. At night she rarely had trouble, but there was a reason caravan troupes, of the sort her wagon resembled often traveled in together and not solo like she was. More guests might come and share in the stew at a later hour, but there was plenty of room to spread out a bedroll or pitch a tent. If rest was desired, she'd try to keep any further night activities quiet.
And yet if the man wished to move on, she felt no compulsion to further offer an alliterative. There meetings by the side of the road were supposed to be this way in the end, often once meeting, and splitting ways again.
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Post by 0 on Jul 23, 2017 0:40:29 GMT
His eyes shone at the display of sparks when the flute magically disappeared. If he were more into the performing arts beyond the pluck of his banjo, it may have been a trick he'd want to learn; as it was, however, other things were prepared to occupy his mind. Perhaps another day, months, even years down the line, when he remembered that magic tricks were something else for his hands to play with.
When asked whether he made the wooden figure, the man simply nodded.
As he began to step off, the fox spoke up again; he was offered the chance to stay, and the man paused a moment to think about it. He hadn't slept so near to the company of another for what might well have been a year or longer, and was rather hesitant to do so.
However, there was the chance that more musically inclined travelers might happen upon the fox's camp. The road he'd been walking seem well-traveled enough. ...Hopefully that would mean bandits were more unwilling to raid, although the opposite was just as likely to be true.
He supposed it couldn't hurt anything. It wasn't as though he was in any hurry.
Still, his words were hesitant. "I don't mean to impose, miss," he said.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Jul 25, 2017 4:45:00 GMT
"No such thing as imposing." The fox encoraged. "Its really not that odd for a few to stay the night when it's safer in a group." She explained. standing up to two feet. She snatched as stick from the ground, and stuck it in the fire to light the brand. lifting it over her head, she stood on her tiptoes to reach the lamp hanging by a hook on her cart. This would burn longer than the cook fire, and provide a clear light that could be carried if need be.
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