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A dim remembered story - Korbin - 01-09-2021
The Tundra takes, and the Tundra gives. Death and life walks hand in hand across the vast snowfields, and it is for the strong and the clever to pay attention, and partake in whatever opportunities present themselves.
A luxere dead after a run in with an ursur is a feast laid out for the taking, and the usual stillness of the day is disrupted when predators and opportunists from all around gather in to gorge. Between snow wolves and foxes, eagles and smaller critters it does not take long before the carcass is reduced to bones and bloody scraps. One by one the animals settle their grudges, fill their bellies and wander off again.
Only then does a stray bird venture down to have a look. It had been circling the skies above for some time, waiting for the squabble to subside. Unusual, for ravens to fly alone. There had been others along earlier, but while they did not seem to mind this odd stray, it was clear it was not part of their colony either.
Cautiously, the black corvid surveyed the area and jumped closer to the carcass. It was nearly picked clean. Nothing was wasted out here, and little was left, even for a solitary raven. All the same, it started picking and tugging at what few scraps of meat that others had failed to reach. Nip, yank, swallow, always with a keen eye scanning the horizon. Wary, in case some other, more cunning beast was out there. Waiting for a mistake to be made. For someone to lower their guard.
RE: A dim remembered story - Aisha - 01-10-2021
Oh but the raven was not alone.
Aisha soared on leathery wings across a sky as white as the earth, searching for nothing more than anything to catch her eye. The thing that finally did was a faint smell of blood, nothing fresh, but not so old that it was sour. The flying fox's keen eyes spied a carcass down below, bone and carnage that might've once been luxere but was now doomed to rot if not for the scavengers about. The bat didn't need a meal like this, but the leopard wouldn't mind a snack.
And so she dove, flapping before she met the ground and slipping from one skin to the next, from burning orange fur and black wings to golden fur and black spots. The leopard's claws dug into the snow as she landed, tail lashing and fangs bared at the solitary raven that pecked and tore at the meat it could get. [say]Beat it you little shit,[/say] she thought, unaware that someone might listen.
RE: A dim remembered story - Korbin - 01-10-2021
Keen eyes did not miss the descent of the bat. It was far larger than any that frequented the tunnels and caves of the Fangs, and stood out as much for its lack of company as for its size. An unusual thing, to see bats fly alone. More unusual still was how the bat shimmered and changed, stretching and growing as it descended, until soft paws better suited for a warmer kind of desert landed upon the snow. And then the cat spoke.
The raven croaked in alarm and in a smattering of dark wings it ascended, up into the relative safety of the air. But rather than disppearing off to find fortune elsewhere - which might have been the safer option - It circled around for a moment, only to descend again. It landed a few paces away from both carcass and cat, and watched with beady blue eyes. Assessing. Weighing options. And when a decision had been made, the dark bird cautiously hopped closer to the ragged bones. Slowly, carefully inching back. The raven was still hungry, and somehow exuded a feeling of immense annoyance.
[say]"Mine. You go away."[/say]
RE: A dim remembered story - Aisha - 01-10-2021
The raven did what would be expected of one of it's kind, a flash of dark feathers and a croaking yelp. It rose into the air, circling and then stubbornly landing again, typical of the foolish brand of blackbird. Aisha's lip curled, baring fangs to tear and shred away, muscles tensed and fur bristling to make herself larger, more intimidating. It didn't seem to work, the feathered thing just hopped nearer, goading her on.
She might've snapped at it, lunging for a meal of poultry rather than venison, but she paused when a voice breached her mind. Her ears shot up from their flattened state, head cocked sharply as she looked over the raven. A memory made present, a boy with dark hair and sad blue eyes. This was not just any lone raven, it was the lone raven. Did he recognize her? Surely her spots were telling, but if they weren't she'd make it spitefully clear with her next action.
Golden pelt relaxing to it's normal sleek state, tail uncurling and a low purr building in her chest, [say]Bold move bumpkin,[/say] she rumbled across their bond, sitting and hooking a claw into the carcass, pulling it closer.
RE: A dim remembered story - Korbin - 01-10-2021
A petulant hiss issued from the open beak of the bird when the cat appeared less than impressed, and proceeded to hog all the scraps for itself. Selfish, as cats were wont to be. Then it spoke again, and the bird did a very unbirdlike flinch. A double take, as it were. Still puffed up in the appropriate corvid manner of intimidation it froze in place, and leveled those unusual eyes on the feline. That annoyed sensation faltered in the bird, colored suddenly with hesitation, uncertainty... and fear. No recognition, nor flash of understanding - the mind inhabiting this raven guise was very much that of a bird, at this point - but...
Several painful heartbeats passed, and then the raven exploded into motion. Into the air it went, up and up in a flurry of wings that was far less elegant and natural than it had been a moment ago. Some inexplicable dread sent the bird off in a panic, desperate to get away.
From what? The raven wasn't sure. It did not matter. Should not matter. It was a bird, goddamnit and birds did not need reasons.
RE: A dim remembered story - Aisha - 01-10-2021
There was a pause after she'd spoken again, after she'd clawed the meal away from him, it. The bird was no longer hissing and protesting, nipping at the carcass flesh. She was prepared to dig in when she noticed this absence of motion, and perhaps the swell of sudden panic that trickled slowly from him. Instinct kicked in and she released a wicked growl at the sudden flurry of feathers. She nearly reached out a claw to pull him down before remembering herself.
He was running, afraid, an anxious static between them, Aisha felt it like a buffer. But she wouldn't let him go that easily, not after she'd only just found him. She scrambled to her feet in a similar harried state as he, claws digging into the ice sheet for traction as she launched herself forwards, building momentum before shifting into the bat, flying up and after him.
[say]Korbin,[/say] she called out to him again, a hint of almost anger laced within the urgency of her tone.
RE: A dim remembered story - Korbin - 01-10-2021
Off. Away. Hurryhurryhurry, before it caught up. It? The cat, of course. What else?
Memories.
No. Nonono, there was nothing to remember. Only white snow, and blue sky, and the biting wind as the raven raced off towards the north. A glance at the ground showed no feline loping beneath, but that meant nothing. Not when the sound of leathery wings ripping and clawing against the wind behind him - it, the bird - kept following, unrelenting.
Korb - [say]"No!"[/say] the raven cut off, panic and creeping dread lacing like poison through the mental voice. [say]"Wrong. Go away!"[/say]
It was dangerous here. Slowing down might prove fatal. Being caught... the thought did not bear thinking. The raven sped up, faster and faster. Clinging to some futile hope that maybe it might outrun the pursuit.
RE: A dim remembered story - Aisha - 01-11-2021
The bird didn't slow down, if anything his panic swelled. And when she called his name, reaching out to grasp at anything there, he shot her down. He flew faster and faster and she struggled to keep up, her wings weren't built for speed like his. And she damned them for it now, because she didn't want to lose. She wanted to understand, and she was furious that she didn't.
[say]Korbin stop please, I know you recognize me,[/say] she pressed their link, projecting her confusion, frustration, her urgency. She was falling behind but she didn't stop, a brightly colored wraith after a wandering soul. [say]Please let me see you,[/say] Because this soul was just a wisp of what he'd been, the boy with stories to tell, bound within his bones.
RE: A dim remembered story - Korbin - 01-12-2021
The raven did not slow down. It heard her, clearly, if the swell and surge of the bond was any indication. But rather than recognition or any hint of affection - now why would the bird hold feelings of that sort towards this creature? - the fear only surged, swelling in horror as though the pursuer was some blood-toothed monster from a nightmare. Not a simple bat.
The strongest reaction came when the name was repeated. It elicited another burst of speed from the raven, although it was already going as fast as it could. Fatigue was starting to set in. Meager chest muscles burned with the pace, and the cold air felt like ice in heaving lungs, but that did not stop it from pressing on. Mountains loomed on the horizon, tall and forbidding; when clouds began to gather overhead, the avian raised the beak upwards and began to climb, higher. Reaching for whatever cover it might find.
Please - [say]"No! Leave."[/say]
It wanted nothing more than to disappear. To escape everything this pleading pursuer threatened to dredge up. Not safe... must not think, must not recall.
RE: A dim remembered story - Aisha - 01-12-2021
She knew it was him. She knew it. She didn't know how he'd come to this, how no one had known where he'd been, where he'd gone. It'd be a lie to say that he hadn't been in her mind when she moved to Halo, that she'd hoped to find him. Their last meeting had been wrapped in grief, she'd been determined to fix what was too far broken, and him - he'd been lost in hid own turmoil.
It seemed they’d moved on in their own ways, for better or for worse.
The bat pressed on, freezing in her skin but refusing to shift to something warmer. She couldn't follow him with boots or leopard feet, she had to persevere. Stubbornly she climbed higher when he did, up towards the clouds where she wasn't meant to climb. The winds were sharper, more cutting against her face up here. But she wasn't done with him, not yet, and so she tried something new, [say]You- you can be the raven if that's what you want, you can have the carcass. Just- just turn around,[/say] she bargained, desperate not to feel like she'd failed another friend.
RE: A dim remembered story - Korbin - 01-12-2021
The raven did not slow down. But it did not pick up more speed either. It could be the raven? It already was the raven, and did not need permission to continue. It could have the carcass... well it did not want the food anymore. The site was tainted now with a memory of fear, and memories were to be cut off, left behind and forgotten. There wasn't actually anything worth remembering, so looking back - looking inside - was just a waste of energy. Nothing there to see. Nope. Not a thing.
The bird did not speed up because it couldn't. Already going as fast as it was able, the clouds seemed impossibly far away. Too high, too thin. The wind was cutting at this altitude, fast and thin and dangerous. Flying too high was reckless, but what option did it have when the pursuit would not relent?
Turn around? There was nothing behind it that the raven wished to see. But as it was backed into a figurative corner, the options were growing scarcer by the second. Fatigue was setting in, the mountains still distant. Below, a frozen desert without any spots to hide. Normally, a game of tag between predator and prey would have been over by now - the winner decided by death or escape - but not so this time.
Something shifted in the mind of the raven then. Hardened, with a steely resolve like a sobbing child clutching a knife in trembling hands. That was the only warning the bat would get before the ink-feathered avian acquiesced and looped up and around... turned... and lashed out with taloned feet at the one who refused to listen.
No choice, no choice. Please just go away.
RE: A dim remembered story - Aisha - 01-12-2021
The bat's heart fluttered when she saw the raven stop. It was a hopeful second in which she thought he might've heard, might come back. But that hope drained away when she felt that nothing had changed in the energy he possessed. He was still afraid, still horrified, he'd only changed his tactic. She was foolish for thinking she could help him in this way, by chasing him high into the frigid Halovian skies.
But maybe concern wasn't her only driving factor. Maybe there was something spiteful, something jealous in the way she followed him. Envious of how effortlessly he'd disappeared, and bitter at how she'd thought to do the same many times, but had been too afraid. It was a cruel thought, unfair to both him and herself really, but Aisha was not born a kind creature. She was selfish like the lot of us, and right now what she wanted was for Korbin to listen to her, like a petulant child begging for attention.
She did not expect him to turn on her like that, to swoop and become the hunter rather than the prey. He was better equipped than her in this form, with sharp talons for an omnivorous scavenger. Were they not so high she would've shifted into the leopard again, to lash out and pluck him out of the sky. She couldn't, they were beyond that point.
Aisha felt fear, it mingled with his own in the bond. If he wanted to he could watch her fall, plummet from the sky with one well timed slash at her wings. She thought he might, she thought it might; would it like to see her lose the game? Aisha flapped, pushing herself back, out of the way of the raven's talons, and watched him coldly, hesitantly. Like an animal.
RE: A dim remembered story - Korbin - 01-13-2021
The bat yielded space and evaded the dark talons with good margin. Good. The heavy beak snapped reflexively after disappearing membranes if only to prove the point, but snapped shut without catching hold of anything.
And then the bird fell. Dropped, tumbling like a stone from the high altitude in a not-so-controlled dive. The kind of hair-raising aerial acrobatics only corvids were foolish enough to engage in. He - it, gods damn it - spun once, twice and then flung out the wings to break the speed, and veered off sharply at an angle towards the west.
It was all a diversion. Only a different attempt at getting away. To disappear. It was so easy; all one had to do was let go of any concerns not tied to oneself. Let others take care of themselves, and keep enough distance so that ones own presence did not bother them. The biggest mistake this bird had made in that regard was to remain in Halo.
A mistake that would surely be remedied, once this pursuer had been shaken off. There should be a good amount of distance between them now. Please. No more of this.
[say]"Please."[/say] The raven did not mean to transfer that thought. Was not aware that it slipped beyond the mental shields. Perhaps that was why the single word carried such bleeding emotion, bone weary and fearful. Like a wound scabbed over that had suddenly been torn open again.
RE: A dim remembered story - Aisha - 01-13-2021
There was another snap that made her wince. The beak so close to her, not a small creature but far more delicate than the cat. The flinch was suppressed with pride, a defiant flap to keep her aloft. She didn't want to lose this, lose the hunt, lose the boy, lose her pride. But this wasn't a game of strategy and it wasn't a game of luck. It was rigged from the start, she'd been playing alone.
She hovered there, frozen both by her fear and by the chilling wind that beat at her body so relentlessly. Dark eyes watched the raven dive, watched him resume his flight. He left her behind, another beast in the snow. She lost him to the flurries, not even her exceptional vision could permeate this white wall. But something did, something small. Another plead, for her to leave him be.
The flying fox could not weep, but the sadness she exuded was near tangible. She'd hurt him, so bad that he begged her to leave him alone. What did that make her? [say]I'm sorry, my raven.[/say]
She'd stay here in the clouds a little longer, where she could take the cruel elements and blame them from her sorrow rather than face the truth.