Gatherings...

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Roose Hurro, Dec 16, 2015.

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  1. Your Barn Door Is Open...



    It was a dark and stormy night....... *

    Even the worst fiction couldn't describe how dark, how stormy. How wet, cold and miserable the weather was this night. Thunder. Lightning! Wind, how it howled! Made trees moan. Rain pounding! Mud, slick underfoot!

    Not a fit night out for man nor beast.......*

    A most excellent assessment, yes indeed. And Peet... not man, not even beast, technically speaking. This night's storm, so bad, even a teenaged Nism couldn't wait to get out of it. But that didn't seem likely. Fur soaked through to his skin... soaked to the bone, chilled right down to his na... well, suffice it to say, he felt miserable. Shroudruff feathers frazzled by the wind and wet, scales mud-crusted. No, not crusted so much as 'spackled' with a trowel. Then one of those slick mud-patches! Schlork! Fur, feathers, scales... mud everywhere. Yes, even there. He tried to shake himself, to fling off mud and water, but rather pointless. He had to find shelter, somewhere! But all the lightning flashes, thunder and general disorientation totally messed up his biosenses. He couldn't have picked up a chi pattern if it.......

    ....... THUMP!.......

    ....... bashed him in the face. Ow. Rubbing his abused snout only smeared mud over his four nostrils. Not a pleasant sensation. A snort blew enough mud away so he could breathe, though breathing in this storm felt more like drowning. A lightning flash revealed he'd literally collided with a barn. An old barn. Peet couldn't really smell anything in this weather, either. Just the scent of water. And mud. And wet Nism. Not anything else. A few more lightning flashes, he found the door, managed to get inside as thunder rumbled. Found...

    ... pounding rain had dealt with most of the mud, a thorough shake mostly taking care of his wet condition. Not perfect, but at least the barn didn't leak. Didn't appear to have any old or any fresh cow-pies lying about. Didn't look like it had been recently used, either. As if whoever owned the barn had kept up the barn, but could no longer afford to stock it with livestock. At least for now. And also for now, perfect for a lone, damp, cold Nism teenager. Who hadn't had a very good night, so far... Yaaaaawwwwwn! Tired... sooo tired. No watch. No idea what time it was. Felt like the storm had been kicking him about for hours. No idea when the storm would end. Didn't really care if anybody found him sleeping here. So, clean stall, clean hay, curl up, lights out.......*

    So tired and beaten, he'd left the barn door open. Not by much... enough to let a rat squeeze through, buuuut also not enough to keep out.......*


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    #1 Roose Hurro, Dec 16, 2015
    Last edited: Dec 18, 2015
  2. The planet had a unique rhythm to it, a natural song that played only in ears that gave heed to it. Right now, in the riotous eye of the storm, the planet sung with a voice like no other. Rain fell onto the earth, impressions in the softened earth filled to the brim with rain, flowing into countless others around it. Night had fallen, but the clash of lightning in the sky gave brief light to the dark world. Wind whipped, a chilly breeze blowing the rain in every direction.

    Fear rarely wormed its way into the heart of those who knew the planet's majesty, all of its extremes and safeness. This was only a storm, and it would soon pass. Roots, sliding through the mud, the ends deep in the drier dirt far below the surface, held strong. Foliage, heavy with a potent scent and dripping wet, kept the body within safe. Flowering buds grew freely, extending out to tremble their stems and sunny flowers. The marigolds shook in the wind.

    Roots pulled up from the dirt, it made its move through the mud, washed away from its body as soon as the rain hit it. In the downpour, it was impossible not to. The forest around it fell away, a wide, open clearing appearing in the temporary light of the sky. A shape was in the distance, like a house, only lacking anything that would've made it liveable for the dominant species of the planet. It had seen what went in there, livestock it fed from.

    Sluggishly slow in its decided movements, it crept closer to the barn with every lightning strike to guide its way. It did not feel hunger, but its body knew when it was time to feed, and that time was now. The animals would be around, locked up, the humans out of its way so it could feed without any distractions. The storm would not pass quickly, and that would leave it just enough time to leave before the morning.

    And so, the Bloom walked, flat appendages stretched out across mud and grass.
     
  3. To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...



    And so, also, Peet slept. Despite pounding rain on barn roof. Despite being cold, damp, and still having mud stuck in... awkward places. Yes, to sleep! Even a Nism needed his rest. Had to sleep, in order to dream. To dream.......

    ....... Forest. Clear skies through warm-breeze leaf-talk and dappled shadows. Him, digging a hole through leaf litter as a Bigfoot... no, a dozen hairy Bigfeet... watched. That first one, not at all amused. Bigfoot voice threat to overhead leaves, small twigs. Even branches, on the edge, ready to snap. Him, sweating. Needing to dig that hole so he could.......

    ....... Sudden and swift, hole opened up and swallowed him, wild ride through soil and rock and root and even a few stray bones, like some bizarre underground waterslide. Yes, water ran. Mud. Flung out at the end... out over a chasm. Hover in the air for a second or two, before he looked down. And fell
    .......

    Peet snorted awake. Nightmare. Not very often he had those. Still dark, still rain. Feeling better, but still. This nightmare, reminding him why he was here, in a barn, damp and muddy. Well, not so damp, now. Mud, now actually crusted. Still very tired, still needing more sleep, but needing... yes, he stood up, moved to a different part of the stall, and began work on the dried mud still caught in his fur. Lifted a leg as he laid down again, claws slow and careful as he groomed his 'assets' clean, then worked his way up to chest. Mud mostly clear, he returned to where he'd started. And licked his way up, long, lean torso and flexible spine allowing him to reach... everywhere. Like a cat.

    Taste of mud only reminded him... gurgle of stomach, a confirmation. Hadn't eaten anything since lunch. And he certainly wasn't eating hay! Or anything else, for now. Rain, still a problem. So, no choice but to return to his sleeping spot.

    To again Sleep, perchance, to Dream.......
     
  4. It was slow. Very slow. The earth had begun to crust before it could begin it's climb up the side of the barn, heavy prints caked with mud washing away with the buffeting of the rain. Roots gripped the wood, generating it's own thorns to cling to the barn side. It was slow, but it was unstoppable. It knew it's body well, how it could manipulate it. It was something common; the rest of it's kind could do it. Not many had the creative consciousness it had to refine it's actions.

    Thick and heavy, it had gathered clay to cover it's core, layers built over each other to ensure protection. A shell, if one would go that far. The Bloom had been cautious in the creation of it's body, much like that of a tortoise. Nothing could break through what it had created. The Bloom, a simple Marigold, had learned from it.

    There was a cut out ahead, somewhere to slip in, and somewhere to leave after it was done.

    It fell with the dullest of thumps through the small opening. Hay sprung up around it, lost in the loamy mass that made up it's body. It's weight was supported by the structure below; beams and a good construction from human hands. Not ideal, but it would do.

    Roots coiling around the flats of it's feet, the Bloom took notice of the room. Stables, animals in place, waiting out the storm like any creature would. Then, something different. A peculiar presence. Something that didn't belong.

    What was it?
     
  5. Something Different This Way Comes...



    It was sound asleep when a dull thump made its ears twitch. Said ears, very large for a reason. Forehead badge, right there, just above and between its closed eyes. Active. This close, at rest, its 'other' sense aware some other living thing had just entered the barn. Something different. Peculiar. But it remained asleep, senses monitoring the chi field of this odd life-form. Alert now, also aware now this barn hadn't quite been as empty as previously thought... rabbit hutch in the far corner, a cat asleep in the tack-and-feed room, a.......

    Peet's ears continued to twitch, tail's tip also active. No, he didn't wake, but he rolled over onto his back, limbs splayed out, 'exposed' to any passers-by. Dreams filled with the urgent need to peel potatoes, slice onions , chop carrots, mince garlic... a veritable vegetable stew of imagery. His rapid-eye-movements... his twitches and breathing... signs something impinged on his dreams, broke his usual curled-in-a-ball sleeping position.

    And then he mumbled...

    ... "Whooo'd... who'da run... off wit' th' cabbage......."

    All four nostrils flared, forelimbs crossed over muzzle as his head turned down and he rolled onto his side. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, but it seemed more distant, the rain suddenly not quite as drenching in its downpour. Wind, not quite as fierce.

    Peet, snoring softly in the chaos. Tongue stuck out a bit between teeth, drool a good possibility.......
     
  6. This was new.

    New didn't mean bad, it just meant something it was unfamiliar with. In the dark, it could see nothing, only able to hear the groggy mumbles of a creature it had never seen on the planet before. The lightning gave it sight, fleeting, but very bright. Neck stretching from it's shell, it failed to stop the curious turn of it's extended head. A very strange creature, indeed. It spoke like the humans, but looked like aw beast. The Bloom couldn't make sense of that.

    No matter, it was only a new meal. Hay fell from it's body, shaken off by the stirrings of it's body. As much as it wanted to interact with this new creature, startling it into waking would've been a bad choice. It wanted to feed, not wake it up. For now, it would watch, roots poking through the bed of head directly below it, anchoring so it could make it's way down. The roots were reliable, but took a while to take hold, but the Bloom was a patient creature. It would wait.

    Cabbage. The Bloom thought on the vegetable, remembering on one of the first nights on the planet, it had found some of the chunky plants growing about. Same farm, different year. It made the wise decision not to mimic the snail it saw crawling about. A Marigold, bright and full of energy, that's what it was.

    And so, roots beginning to pierce through the dirt floor, Marigold snuck towards the ledge of the hayloft.
     
  7. Not A Happy Meal...




    No, waking this particular sleeping "beast" wouldn't have been a wise idea. Peet, even asleep, was not a happy meal. Wouldn't be happy to know some other creature... animal, vegetable, mineral... didn't matter, Peet's peeve had already been roused, his flesh threatened with rending earlier in the day, something important to him, lost. He wanted that important thing back. No plant... nothing would turn him from his task. His quest! No matter how much anything might want to feed off what nourishment he provided.

    Yes, "Marigold" snuck towards the hayloft's edge, but Peet's sleeping senses didn't lose track. As his fur dried, as his sleep progressed, he slowly curled up, forelimbs still crossed over his muzzle, tongue still out... drool now present... legs tucked in, tail curled round. Soft snore still present, though a bit more wet-sounding. Snore blowing bubbles in his exhaustion. Of course, he normally didn't snore. But then, this was the first time.......

    No, to be honest, he'd had his share of unfortunate events. To be expected when traveling the universe sans shirt, shoes, pants or other civilized "necessities". On some worlds, no one cared if a naked alien showed up, wanting to rent a room at the inn. On other worlds... yeah, that same scenario would cause an incident. Or at the very least, a horrible misunderstanding. What is seen cannot be unseen! And all that. And to be honest further, Peet actually enjoyed such things. Whole reason to travel! Meet new people, experience new things, find new places. Have fun. The risk of what he now found himself in the middle of, worthwhile. Because everything else... living life, worth all the times life gave lemons.

    Didn't stop Peet from feeling peeved when it happened, but even so. He'd squeeze this bad time for the lemonade. Make this a challenge. Leave the local Sasquatch a permanent memory.

    But right now, all he could do was snore in his sleep, dreams, when they came, all a-jumble. Because his senses still perceived a "vegetative" presence. Slowly drawing nearer...

    ... "All's I wants for Chris'mas is carrots....... *"

    Heh. If "Marigold" didn't arrive soon, Peet would most likely keep saying things in his sleep, perhaps words even more revealing. Or embarrassing. Given he was, yes, a teenager.......
     
  8. Marigold, in some bizarre act of self-image, did not consider itself an outright predator. At the same time, it would not lower itself to the dreaded ranks of a mere opportunist. It's form did not allow for actions that were made in the split halves of a second, so it was forced to bide the time it could have with what was supposed to be an answer meal. If the thing was speaking, that spoke greatly of it's capability of near human sentience. That could prove deadly, for it's meal. Not itself. Never itself.

    So why had it stopped? Marigold held it's spot, multitude of sight organs peering out from beyond their individual sockets laid in it's body. From it's current position, and with the opening of all of it's eyes, it could take stock of the entire room. It was the same as it always was. The smell of animal flesh and drying hay was just about the only thing it could smell that was typical of the barn.

    The thing was speaking again. More irrelevant nonsense. The mind of Marigold was elsewhere, in more important thoughts. It briefly wondered if it should've alerted the others of going other. If the thing proved to be dangerous, having the rest of them know about it's whereabouts would not be unwelcome. Unless word got around, some of the other, more hungry Blooms could take it's prey.

    Nightshade in particular. There was a shift among it's decorative foliage. Nightshade. All ravenous appetite and a disturbing habit of mimicking the humans' speech and alien physiology to lure in prey that was not the average farm animal. Nightshade had left a few nights ago, a sickening maw of black teeth set in it's face. They spoke in a tongue that confounded them all, a laughter rattling out from them as they lunged into the forest. Good riddance.

    Marigold was deep in thought, but still very aware of it's surroundings. If the thing was sentience in ways that it could speak like a human, it would be no better than Nightshade, and it had seen the first time the Bloom had tasted human blood. It was a grisly mess, skull collapsed and brain matter splattered on Nightshade's leaves. It had not stopped with the head.

    Was that the path it was set on if it fed from the creature? There was no telling what would possess Marigold if it partook in the fleshy membrane of the strange thing. What desires would rise up.

    Marigold did not feed. Instead, it watched.
     
  9. A Near Thing...



    Near human...?

    Had Peet been privy to that moniker, the word near transposed with human could be taken as an insult. No, he wasn't better than human, but he certainly wasn't near to human, either. Just different. But just as sentient, just as sapient, if not more so. Wise in many ways. Very, very self aware. Very aware of everything else, far more than any human. Still, a young member of his species, still in the throws of puberty, still learning new things, even at his age. Even though his kind knew much. Their Creators, generous, though they, themselves, had died out many millions of years ago.

    Which didn't matter in the present moment, Peet having more immediate concerns. Weather, over time, easing. Winds dying down. Rain, finally falling to a trickle, then gone. Dark night air, fresh-scrubbed. Good thing.......

    What with all the water, perhaps not surprising Peet would start feeling some pressure. What with so many eyes turned his way, that chi pattern, not moving. Yes, Peet twitched in his sleep, somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, two signals vying for his attention. Enough rest at this point, he couldn't help but wake...

    ... snrrrk!...

    ... suck up the drool on his lips, rub his face with his hands, then sit up, eyes on these other eyes, up in the hayloft. Fur fluffed, teen-aged shroudruff feathers unfurled in display, ears cast back, voice...

    ... "Hey... I know you're up there. I can feel your eyes on me. And I know you're not a rat... can't say what you are, either. If you want a piece of me, wait right there. I have a full bladder to deal with right now, so I don't think you want to be sucking on my vital juices right now." Peet poked a claw at his throat, right along his jugular. Waved that claw over his nether regions with a yawn. Then stood up, exited the barn, found a good place to pee...

    ... returned to where he'd been, sighed, then...

    ... "Okay... ready when you are." He sat again, fluffed, unfurled, ears back. All four nostrils flared as tail's tip flicked over toes.

    Waiting.......
     
  10. Marigold had expected to be found out, spotted by whatever the creature was, but it was not about to make any rash decisions. It failed to grasp what the creature could do, and what its intentions were now that it had been located. Marigold, protecting a majority of its eyes in shifting foliage, peered down with a pitiful two of them.

    So it wanted to meet? So be it. But the meeting would be on it's terms. The thicker pair of it's stumps, the fore couple, folded beneath it, settling down in a bit of a crouch. Marigold could speak, it was something that was useless among it's own, but more and more of the species of the planet took to using spoken language to communicate. Blooms were solitary, and speaking to others of it's kind was rare.

    It had been a while, though. The last time Marigold had to use language was when one of Nightshade's escaped prey was frantically searching for a way out of the forest. The human was scared, and Marigold had felt the presence of Nightshade coming even closer. So, building a structure of vocal cords in it's throat, it yelled. "Run!"

    Granted, the situation was completely different, and less frightening than being in the middle of Nightshade's perverse hunts. The creature wanted an audience with it, and it could handle a few lines.

    It stretched it's neck to the side, more of it coming out of the shell on it's back. Vocal cords, tricky business. If something was made wrong, they could break under the strain of it's own voice. But Marigold was no quiter.

    "What are you?" There it was, it's voice. Ragged, out of use, and barely human. Perfect. "You are no farm animal, no matter how ugly these cows seem to get."

    A cow mooed, and Marigold stared with a few eyes.
     
  11. Animal Farm...



    Yes, it wanted to meet.......

    And yes, if Peet had wanted, everything would have been on his terms... only his terms and Marigold's just so happened to be the same, so he did nothing to change the present balance of "power". Besides, the cow-moo caught him by surprise. One more to add to cat and rabbits. His own chi must have been seriously disturbed for him to not note this lone bovine presence. Perhaps the presence of this Marigold thing... not that he knew this name, yet... perhaps his focus on that oddity was responsible. Either way, it made Peet feel even more peeved...

    ... "I'm cold, tired..." Yaaaawn... "hungry and yes! Quite certainly not a farm animal." Peet stared back, his night vision very, very good, aided by moonlight filtering in as the sky outside cleared. "Just as you are quite certainly not a rat. Or a cow." His head lowered, his expression a grimace... "This day has been more ugly than any cow..." He harked in mock amusement... "marked by this shining irony... soaked to the bone and doused in everything else wet and nasty, I still need a bath."

    He looked up, eyes shining... suddenly realized he was talking with a plant!

    "I could ask what you are in return... but what we are is not important. Who we are and what we're doing here is more to point......."

    Yes, Peet was trying to get over his peeve.

    "....... I'm Peet, of the Bloodline Ahvviyinn. I'm here to retrieve something stolen from me......." He almost offered his hand, but turned that movement into a scratch between nostrils, awkward, uncomfortable and really wanting to get back to sleep. All of this evident in his pose and poise.......
     
  12. As the creature spoke, spoke, and continued to speak in long words that made Marigold regret ever coming to the barn. It was wordy, and boring, avoiding the point of what it was saying to fill the void of actual meaning with empty words. Boring, tasteless, boring. Marigold only stared, a tension building in it's roots and flowers. What was the stolen thing, Marigold wondered. It had it's doubts that the cows or horses were smart enough to pull such a crime.

    It had no teeth to grind, nor proper membranes to become irritated by stimuli, so the sensation of both things happening in what could be called it's head was high unexplainable. This - Peet brought it on, and Marigold did not like it. It hated sound, not all, only excessive speaking. Even the birds were not this annoying. It supposed it would only be fitting that something new to it's eyes would bring a plethora of annoyances.

    The creature was tired, and, in any other situation, ripe for the picking for it's meal. Marigold's contact with other Blooms was limited to what was vital to knowing where it could feed. The powers they held as individuals was unknown to it, but Marigold knew what it could do. With any luck, it would not have to use them. Humans called it a peaceful resolution.

    "You are new, Peet." It was a statement, not a question. Just the smell of the creature told it a story of newness to the barn. "This world will eat you whole if you do not learn to see to sighs of its coming wrath." Reading the clouds, tasting the rain on the wind, the chill with promise of snow. Marigold had learned, and it had survived.

    "Your stolen thing will remain lost if your life is stolen as well. You would do well to learn." If not, it would surely die. A waste, of life, of goods, of a meal.
     
  13. Stolen Things...



    It wasn't a matter of smarts, but of timing. Wrong place at the wrong time. Not being quite fast enough, because he underestimated the speed of his attacker. And not so much "stolen" as "sacrificed" temporarily, so he wouldn't have to suffer the pain of having his skin peeled off. Like a banana. Yes, Sasquatch were primates, of a sort, so that counted for something. And if Marigold thought Peet wordy, then he/it hadn't obviously encountered Peet's sister... good thing, that.

    Peet had teeth to grind. Proper membranes to be irritated. And a head filled with things Marigold would most likely find... well. Peet wasn't too annoyed by Marigold's failure to exchange in kind. Couldn't expect much from a plant. Though Peet decided this plant wasn't stupid, either. Just very different in its viewpoint. So yes, Peaceful Resolution. Don't eat the plant. Don't bury the plant under the rabbit hutch. Don't use the plant for basketball practice.

    Listen carefully.

    Peet sighed deeply. Thought with care, eyes intent and intense. Ears alert. He settled his fidgeting, took a more formal sit posture, though he kept himself fluffed up...

    ... "Signs..."

    He reached up behind his right ear, touched the appropriate spot, and withdrew his father's Omni Bit. A quick, one-hand flick, and a soft Fweep! lit the "marble" in his grip. A grip that turned to a light upward toss, Omni Bit now a soft, glowing Tinkerbell, zipped up to the overhead, where its light lit the barn enough so that Peet could clearly see Marigold. And Marigold could clearly see Peet...

    ... "I've been around the Universe a time or two, learned many things." Peet shifted, pushed himself forwards, and floated up closer to where Marigold still "stood", ears slightly back, gaze serious... "Are you offering to teach me more?"
     
  14. Marigold's leaves grew inward at the flash off light, even more of it's eyes hiding among the greenery. This Peet had the benefit off technology, far beyond anything the humans of the planet were capable of creating. That only added more merit to the mention of universal travels. The universe was a massive place, incomprehensibly so for most minds.

    Marigold would rather have it's branches torn off than admit the size of the universe seemed daunting to it. For a while, a very short period, Marigold had found itself on a planet that once housed several of it's fellow kind. As stated, that time had been short.

    Marigold had roots that grew deeper than the body it constructed, eyes in places overlooked, interests outside of consuming and retreating. However, it found itself frustratingly in the shadow of this Peet that made all it knew inferior. Marigold bristled, flowers blooming and new ones budding all at once.

    "Nothing another one could teach. Simple things." The distance between them was unnerving, if it had nerves to be rattled. If the Oeet chose to attack, or use it's technology to capture it, Marigold would be hard pressed to escape unharmed.

    It did not like that reality, and backed up accordingly. As strong as it's shell was, it was there to fend off attackers coming for it's core; it's seed, hidden within it's body. It had to protect itself.
     
  15. Simple Things...



    To put it quite simply, Peet had no interest in either attacking or capturing this "Marigold" creature. All he wanted... sleep, food, his property back. Three simple things, though the last had its difficulties. Well, to be honest, in this present moment, sleep and food also had its difficulties. And it also seemed this plant person had difficulties of its own. A life anything but simple, from what Peet could tell as he studied its chi. Hmmm. As Marigold backed up, Peet moved forward, until he could rest his elbows on the loft's edge, head in hands as his legs and tail (and other parts) "dangled" in air. Ears back.......

    ....... but his voice, amused...

    ... "So... only you can teach simple things?" He yawned. Then grinned... "Or am I simply misunderstanding your intended meaning?" A claw's poke at the hay between them came with a sigh, Peet's grin faded to nothing... "Simple things are not always what you expect... simple things can be very complex, if you poke at them long enough. Trust me, when simple things poke back, you don't want to be there."

    Peet had remembered his not so long ago difficulties, how a simple breakfast at a local coffee shop (on another world, actually) had lead to a not so simple conflict, with him in the middle of it all. Him, his sister, a demon, a merwoman, a sickle, a druid, a Ju'unda, a Jiinian, a human... two police officers... even the owner of the coffee shop, amongst others. A simple sip of coffee and bite of O'Brian potatoes gone wrong. He'd also remembered the incident last Christmas. Stuck in a farmhouse in the middle of a blizzard. Simple to describe, not so simple to live through.

    And now, this. Nism liked things simple. No shoes. No shirt. No pants. No worry if he'd packed enough socks or clean underwear. The universe, just a place where each world was just "the house next door." Simple to reach.

    But not always simple to leave, once you arrived.

    Peet gave Marigold another intent and intense look...

    ... "I think I'm gonna call you Mudball..."
     
  16. That, much like most of Peet's strange hybrid of rambling and explaining, made Marigold bristle. Any wind that would usually call for such a reaction was absent, and all that helps the blame was the inherent discomfort that came with receiving a name it did not chose. No, no, and no. Bristling over, Marigold glared as best it could at Peet. "Marigold. You will call be Marigold, or you will not call me at all." It was not about to take an awful name like that.

    Mudball.

    Nevertheless, Marigold still had absolutely no clue what Peet was on about now. To be honest, listening to him was frustrating, and a little painful. It just never seemed to shut up, and that was the problem. Marigold, trying to reduce the pain, pulled it's roots inward, leaves compressing against it's body. To block light, sound, and annoying things.

    Marigold wished it had just stayed out in the forest for the night. It was too late for that, and this Peet would most likely follow it back to it's dwellings. That would simply not do. Not in the slightest.

    A mangled sound built in it's throat. "What do you want?"
     
  17. Wantings...



    Peet's intent and intense look softened into a yawn, ears turned half back, smile then on his face as mane ruffled. Voice, soft as his look...

    ... "So... you do have a name."

    All four of his nostrils flared. No, Peet hadn't failed to note how Marigold reacted. And yes, he'd gotten some modicum of pleasure out of said reaction. Not out of cruelty. Just satisfaction. Marigold so... tight with words, his own jabber needed just to compensate. To learn...

    ... "And what do I want? I want my art back... my sketchbook." Yes, his sketchbook. The one with drawings of Kassie, not to mention plants, animals and "other things" he'd worked long and hard to put down on paper. Thankfully, all protected by his backpack against the rages of Sasquatch hands and teeth. And their big feet. But not in his possession. As he said the word "sketchbook", he brought his floaty body parts all the way up into the loft, stood on all fours while he stretched... yawned again... then curled up on the hay. Eyes still on Marigold...

    ... "I could ask you the same thing, Marigold. You obviously wanted something when you came in here. I'd bet something more than simple shelter from the rain." He gave Marigold a sideways look, tightened his shroudruff against his shoulders, then rolled over onto his back, upside-down expression focused on his plant "bunk-mate"... "Maybe we can help each other."

    With a casual wave of clawed hand, he recalled his Omni Bit "Tinkerbell" back, and extinguished the light.......
     
  18. The rain. Marigold turned a branch towards the waterlogged window that lacked any glass. Illuminated by the occasional bursts of light brought down by the lightning, the droplets fell in heavy rows.

    If it listened closely, it could hear the beat of the storm banging against the barn. It was a nice night, from the perspective of a Bloom who personally loved when the night brought on this much rain. As for responding to Peet, Marigold did not. Verbally, anyway. It shook, out of frustration and genuine disregard to whatever Peet was saying.

    Humans often filled their lives with art, for what Marigold could understand. In fact, one of the first times Marigold had encountered a human in the midst of making it, the person in question was drawing a landscape.

    The canvas was a mess of green and spots of red and blue. Perhaps peonies, tulips, lavender and salvia. It didn't know. That person had came only a few times to the barn, let alone to the house just a walk away. Humans and their relationships were of no true concern to Marigold.

    To think all this started with Marigold just wanting to see if the cows were around.

    "Why? You'd get something I wouldn't."
     
  19. Peet's Offering...



    Peet didn't feel at all slighted by Marigold's silence, by the simple lack of response. As he lay on his back in the dark, on the hay, rain and storm restarted, he played with his Omni Bit. Manipulated its structural programming, his thoughts brought back when Marigold finally responded to his last words. He rolled over onto his belly, fluffed up mane and shroudruff, eyes again focused and intent. Thoughtful.

    For him, yes, his life of late had become filled with art. During his roadtrip with Kassie, he'd discovered his calling, found that one thing his life had been missing. His muse, his creative spark. Something... very personal. No, not private. Not something he at all kept hidden from others! Just... very personal. A part of himself, freed. One final brick in the wall.

    Something for the Nism archives. For future generations. Something personal he could pass on, other than his genes.

    In the same way his father was a exo-geologist/cartographer and his mother an exo-biologist/medic, Peet was an exo-technologist/archeologist. His hobby, his passion, now art. As his father collected "stuff" (and loved to barbecue) and his mother made clothing, amongst other sewed-together/woven items (and loved to play matchmaker). Something beyond their "professional" skills.

    But Marigold had spoken. Peet's ears turned back a bit, his tail flicked side to side...

    ... "Of course I'd get something you wouldn't. We each want something different, I'd imagine. What would be desirable and useful to me might not be desirable or useful to you." Peet held out the Omni Bit he'd been playing with, held it out in the palm of his hand, claws out of the way, Bit free for taking... "Would you like one of these? I have several spares." In his playing, he'd transferred all the data in his offered Bit to a spare Bit burried in his right hip... "I think you might find this both desirable and useful. Something we both can share in common. Something to help you get what you want, if you feel my offer of personal help in return for your aid wouldn't be desirable or useful."

    While speaking, Peet's intent and intense gaze never wavered.......
     
  20. Marigold gave the object a hard look, from which eyes, Peet would likely never know. It bristled, obviously upset by the offering of something that, despite what Peet said, would no prove useful in it's possession. Something like a mangled hybrid of a snarl and a growl ripped from deep within Marigold, speaking in it's ragged voice a moment later. "No." Marigold had learned early in it's existence that accepting anything offered from things it didn't know and creatures who spoke around the truth was a bad idea.

    "Why would I help you? Why would you seek my help, of anything else on this planet?" If Peet had these - spheres, what was stopping him from simply contacting someone with similar technology? Someone with the skills needed to reclaim his belongings from someone who stole them? Either way, and for whatever reason Peet had, Marigold wanted no part in this.

    "My goal here has been interrupted, as has yours. I suggest you seek help elsewhere, and let us both return to our original plans while we still have the night." Backing up once again, Marigold narrowed it's eyes at Peet, bristling in growing annoyance.
     
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