Scary dog privilege

Kaisel

Normally looking for a lost dog, in the rain, in a fucking jungle, would be the worst idea imaginable for a mission. However, this jungle is particularly deadly, which adds a bit of a danger factor to the whole nature expedition that Kaisel can better get behind. The dog is still...a missing dog, which feels like an annoying use of a soldier's time, but it does belong to Mrs. Thompson, a rather high-profile pearl trader, so Torchline has an economic interest in keeping her happy even if she can't manage to control a twelve-pound mutt whenever she docks. The rain, well actually Kaisel doesn't really mind the showers other than there's been a lot of them, and when something is already a touch annoying rain is just nature's little way of giving you a sarcastic smooch to go with it.

"Do you think you should fly so you can scout the area better or is there too much underbrush to make it worth it?" Kaisel asks Remi once they're boots down on the island along with a few other soldiers that are pairing up and fanning out. Mrs. Thimpson's hysterics further down the beach are being managed by a commander, and Kaisel's grateful to not have to deal with that particular aspect of the mission. "Or maybe do some hyper-weeding with your tentacles?" he wonders aloud instead as he hacks away at his own brush blockage with his leviathan chakram. They're racing against the clock here to ensure the pooch doesn't end up fertilizer for the plants.

Haters on my back like a backpack
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

Code stolen from Queen Sky

remi

Rain slicks down Remi’s chambray shirt in a way that makes the fabric cling and darken, though he hardly seems to notice. The weather is simply another texture in the world, another sensation brushing across his skin as mildly as wind or sunlight. His curls have already lost their shape, flattened into damp waves that cling to his forehead until he lifts a hand and rakes his fingers through them, leaving them even less tidy than before. The gesture is automatic, unbothered, a touch amused by the futility of trying to keep anything dry on a day like this.

The Bastion stands easy in the wet sand and skeletal undergrowth, posture loose and patient in a way that suggests this assignment is no stranger than any other. Lost dog, deadly island, carnivorous flora; such combinations stopped registering on his internal scale of oddity years ago. Kaisel’s energy circles beside him, sharp-edged and restless, while Remi’s remains steady, neither weighed nor lifted by the drama around them.

When Kaisel asks about flying, Remi glances upward, then through the dense underbrush, then back at the soldier with a small tilt of his head that rolls from one side to the other. "I could fly," he agrees, voice mellow and threaded with the lilt of the travelling-tongue, "but hawks are sight predators. If the dog is still, I will only see leaves." His eyes sweep the macabre tangle of bones and roots around them—this island a creature built from dead things—and he gives a thoughtful hum that is almost fond of the challenge.

The suggestion of tentacles earns Kaisel a quiet huff of laughter. "Hyper-weeding," he repeats under his breath, the grin forming before he even fully commits to it. There’s a boyish gleam in his golden-green eyes as he adds, "I do have a shift that might help." He doesn’t elaborate; instead his brows lift in mischievous invitation, and then, with a ripple of magic subtle enough to feel like a shrug of his soul rather than a flare of power, he shrinks. Fur replaces skin. Paws replace hands. The world rises tall around him until he stands small and round and ridiculous on the bone-woven forest floor.

A raccoon blinks up at Kaisel, dark paws neatly planted, ringed tail flicking once with impish precision. For the man who stands as Torchline’s Bastion and one of Caido’s most formidable forces, it is a ridiculous shift, which is almost certainly why Ludo chose it for him. Remi seems to lean into that absurdity, whiskers twitching as he gives Kaisel an unmistakably smug chitter, amused both by himself and by whatever reaction he earns. Then he turns, waddles once, and bounds into the underbrush with surprising agility for a creature so plump, disappearing beneath the carnivorous tangle of crimson roots and bone-white vines as if the macabre forest were nothing more than an oversized playground.

we're only human but we've got hands & hearts & noses
So stop and smell the fuckin' roses

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

Remi's very hardcore, man doesn't even bother with jackets or umbrellas in the rain. Maybe his mother never yelled at him about catching a death of cold, but Kaisel's did, so he's swaddled in a long rain jacket that's so tied around his face only his eyes, nose, and lips are free to the wet. His pants are the loud, swishy material of water-proofing pull-ons, and his boots don't let a drop in. He's armed and ready to beat the shit out of this jungle.

"Hmm," Kaisel says of the hawk drawbacks, figuring the brush and the weather still pose enough of a problem to make partial shifting just the wings onto his back also not worth it. He wouldn't really know what it's like to flap around whether it's dry or rainy, so probably best to leave the decision-making up to the man who's body would be morphing.

Which, he does, in a spectacular fashion. There's something to be said about having more than just the usual overly buff shapes at your beck and call. After all isn't it the lion that has to ask the mouse for help removing a thorn from his paw? Although, Kaisel is glad that Remi doesn't turn into a mouse, fitting as that would be given Ratatouille and all. The mouse would take too long to traverse all this, but the raccoon, oh it's perfect. "No way! You're a trash panda!?" he can't help but exclaim as he look over mid weed-whacking to see the Bastion reduced to a fuzzy gremlin.

His speed is surprising, but any good thief like the raccoon needs to be able to make a clean getaway. Laughing after the last visible sign of the tail, Kaisel jumps in after him. It's not as quick or graceful, and he's forced to thread around dead or dying obstacles as the jungle leaves things in an array of decomposition, but with some footwork and blade work he does his best until he loses track of Remi completely. "See if he'll chase you!" Kai calls after him, doing his best to cut some clearance for the raccoon and dog to make it bath without getting snared and eaten.

Haters on my back like a backpack
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

Code stolen from Queen Sky

remi

At Kaisel’s shouted delight, Remi pauses just long enough to stand up on his hind legs and plant his little paws on his rounded middle, chittering in a way that is very clearly offended dignity. Trash panda, honestly. He turns his masked face toward Kaisel and makes a show of patting the fur at his chest as if to say: excuse you, i'm a highly respectable forest professional. A moment later he lifts one paw and waggles it dismissively, theatrically magnanimous about the insult, before dropping back down to all fours, before vanishing into the undergrowth.

Down here the island feels different. Bone and root twist together beneath his paws, the air damp and heavy with the mineral-sweet reek of decay and the sharp, green tang of living things that would happily digest him if given the chance. As a man he doesn't really think about the strangeness of such places. As a raccoon, he feels it in the way every hair along his spine stands a little higher, senses sharpening to a point.

He moves quickly, far more surefooted than his plump shape suggests, slipping between crimson roots and skeletal protrusions with the practised ease of something built for rummaging. His nose works constantly, whiskers trembling as he tests every new scent: salt, iron, wet earth, the oily musk of strange blossoms, the old ghost of blood that clings to the island’s teeth. And somewhere under it all, he hopes, dog.

Remi makes noise on purpose; little bursts of chatter and clicking sounds, the soft scrabble of claws on bone, the rustle of disturbed foliage. A creature as small and pampered as Mrs. Thompson’s dog is almost certainly the type to bark at anything it thinks it can bully. So he leans into that, becoming the most annoyingly noticeable thing in the underbrush that is not actively trying to eat him.

He rustles leaves, darts across small openings where he is easy to spot, pauses on low, jutting ribs of bone to rear up and chitter at nothing in particular, tail flicking like a challenge. The call of it runs through him like a game: here I am, come and get me. If the dog is close, if it still has enough bravado left in its tiny body, then maybe, just maybe, the ridiculous little raccoon will be enough of a target to draw it out.

we're only human but we've got hands & hearts & noses
So stop and smell the fuckin' roses

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

Whatever Remi thinks is very clear as a raccoon is definitely only completely hilarious and 'aww' worthy. The chittering chastisement and the grand display of sweeping away the insult all appear like he's asking for a hug, and Kaisel only doesn't because Remi is already well enough ahead and bouncing off before he could close the distance. "I like this shift much better than your others!" he calls out after him.

A thought occurs to him then that perhaps all his bushwhacking is actually counterproductive. There's far too much to really hack away enough to make a dent, and whatever he's managed would just be a very small section that the dog isn't likely to run down. If anything, the little mutt could be scared away from all the chaos of the shaking leaves and stomping boots.

He keeps his chakram out to cut himself free as needed, but otherwise tries to steathily sneak after Remi's general direction, ear cocked for the continuous chittering and scrabbling of paws. If Remi manages to make the dog give chase, then Kaisel can be the dog catcher.

Haters on my back like a backpack
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

Code stolen from Queen Sky

remi

Remi moves with an enthusiasm that feels strangely youthful in this shape, shoulders rolling in a soft, rounded swagger as he scrambles over a jut of rib-like stone and vanishes again beneath the canopy of carnivorous red leaves. His chittering continues in irregular bursts; sometimes sharp and taunting, sometimes a low muttering noise that sounds suspiciously like he’s narrating his own search in raccoon-grumbles.

Then—something. A sound that doesn’t match the rhythm of his own paws or Kaisel’s more careful footwork. Remi freezes mid-step, tail going stick-straight, little masked face pointed toward a cluster of thick, blood-red ferns. His body sinks low, cautious, curious, sniffing the air in a series of high, quick snorffles. Whatever it is, it’s small, and warm, and alive, and a flash of movement bursts through the foliage.

Remi jolts backward with a startled chit! as a blue-tailed skink skitters right across his front paws, its neon tail whipping behind it like a tiny tropical flag. The lizard pauses just long enough to glare (or whatever the reptile equivalent is), then flicks its tail again and darts straight up a lattice of crimson roots, disappearing as fast as it arrived.

The raccoon stares after it, offended in turn.

Snorffling once—loud, unimpressed—Remi gives a final glance in the wrong direction, spins on his paws with a little shake to reset his composure, and darts off toward a new pocket of sound. His chatter resumes with purpose, now clearly broadcasting his opinion that lizards are dramatic nuisances and absolutely not the dog he is looking for.

we're only human but we've got hands & hearts & noses
So stop and smell the fuckin' roses

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

He breaks up the jungle creep with the occasional call of the dog's name and a series of low, summoning whistles or clap of his hands. The dog might be scared and looking for something familiar in this strange place, like people. It might also be having the time of its life and running opposite the sounds of any possible hands and voices that'd mean restraint. With all the plant-made skeletons around and the odor of death that wafts up in the denser pockets of vegetation though, Kaisel's hoping the dog maybe has some modicum of self-preservation and won't romp too deep too long here.

Each frond he brushes past spills rainwater in a sprinkle around him, the wet smearing harmlessly against the repellent of his clothing. He has to pause to minimize the swishing sound in order to listen, straining for pooch or raccoon. The sudden rise of antagonized chittering in the distance tells him Remi is still nearby, and although he doesn't speak trash panda, that tone is clear enough to suggest the Bastion got into it with something. Fairly certain the man could easily change into something more formidable if there's any actual threat, a smile fits into place with the assumption he's found an annoyance above all else. Maybe a toad.

His efforts don't prove much better, the line he breaks through a particularly toothy looking plant forcing up a flock of birds that had been hiding behind it. They wheel past in a frenzy of feathers and cries, Kaisel ducking behind his hands and crouching under the too close air show. Not without earning one stroke of supposed 'good luck', a thing he's certain people only say to make the fact you got shit on feel a little better. "Ewwwwwww!" he cries out the moment he notices it, blissfully unaware until the marked arm reached out to part a new plant and his gaze catches on the runny white residue. Leaning up against every soggy leaf he can now he tries to rub it off on nature, where it belongs.

Haters on my back like a backpack
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

Code stolen from Queen Sky

remi

Remi pushes deeper into the tangle of roots and rib-white stone, his little raccoon body swaying with a rounded, determined gait that somehow manages to be both earnest and faintly ridiculous. The rain has softened the island’s harsher smells, turning the scentscape into swirls of wet earth, rot, and vegetation that feels far too interested in digesting him. Still, he keeps searching—; nose pressed nearly to the ground, paws sifting through leaves, whiskers bristling as he follows the faintest thread of something canine.

A sudden tug of scent stops him cold. Leather. Salt. Dog.

Remi dives into a low thicket, shoving aside slick leaves with both paws, and there, a flash of worn brown, half-buried in mud and tangled against a crimson root. A collar. He chitters in triumph, loud and insistent, only to pause mid-noise with a sudden, raccoonish realization that...hmm. Kaisel has heard him chitter nonstop for the last twenty minutes. This probably sounds exactly like all the other chittering he’s done while cursing lizards and roots and the general indignity of being small.

He makes a frustrated little squeak at himself, then clamps the collar between his paws and backs out of the bush with a graceless wiggle of his ass. Once free, he trots briskly toward the nearest semblance of a path—really just a stretch of slightly less murderous foliage—and plants himself right in the middle of it.

Rain beads along his fur. His tail curls around his feet. He sits up on his haunches, holding the muddy collar between both front paws like some tiny, triumphant relic-bearer or the sort of thing you see in a video game when there's a clear quest item you're meant to take.

we're only human but we've got hands & hearts & noses
So stop and smell the fuckin' roses

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

As bird poop free as he can manage after wiping it off on leaf after leaf, Kaisel mutters and gets back to the task of operation lost doggie. That starts with finding track of Remi again, who's noises he started to block after the disgusting ordeal of wiping himself clean in the jungle.

"Remi!" he hisses into the villainous shrubbary as he creeps along. Ducking under some low hanging and moving vines, and crouching around a flower that he's certain isn't so bright and pretty just for fun, he turns and finds Remi on grand display before him. Rightfully so too, the little garbage man has a prime prize in his mitts. "His collar!" Kaisel breathes as he stoops down for it, a lilt of hope there in the recognition. "You must be on the right track. Can you smell him?" He's not sure how well racoons can pose as scent hounds, least of all in the rain, but it's the first solid lead.

Haters on my back like a backpack
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

Code stolen from Queen Sky

remi

Remi remains exactly where he is, a small, damp sentinel planted in the middle of the half-path, tail curled neatly around his paws, posture composed with the faintly smug poise of someone who has absolutely done his part. He doesn’t move when Kaisel hisses his name into the murderous greenery, he simply waits—silent, patient, dripping—until Kaisel parts the foliage and spots him.

As soon as Kaisel bends, Remi lifts the collar higher, offering it between both paws like a raccoon presenting tribute to some jungle god. His masked face brightens with unmistakable pride. At the question Remi’s nose wrinkles in an exaggerated little scrunch, whiskers twitching with a clear message: yes, he can smell things, but rain and rot and bone-flowers and skinks make for a very crowded menu. He is a raccoon, not a hound.

Still, he makes an effort for Kaisel’s sake.

He lifts both paws, presses them dramatically to his chest like preparing for a performance, and then pantomimes a deep inhale—head tipping back, nose wobbling, whiskers trembling with theatrical precision—it is entirely unclear whether this actually improves his scenting ability or whether he is simply leaning into the drama of the moment. Then, with the collar handed off and his duty complete, Remi gives a decisive little nod and trots forward into the underbrush with renewed determination. His tail bobs with each step, the picture of a plump, soggy adventurer committed to his mission, even if he’s still better built for finding snacks than lost dogs.

we're only human but we've got hands & hearts & noses
So stop and smell the fuckin' roses

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

He's sunk low, balancing in a resting squat that has his ass almost as low as his heels without any risk of falling. It gets him on better level with short-king raccoon Remi, allowing him to bear witness to every dramatic fuzzy motion and small breath. "Y'know, as a racoon, you have a lot more in common with Flora." He can't bite back the full force of his grin at watching the theatrics. As a very serious demi-dad steeped in past sorrows he has very little inkling of, and probably some amount of intimidation factor aimed his way, the resemblance isn't far beyond some physical features. He got a glimpse of some of Remi's playful side in their spar, but it'd been hoisted about almost unwillingly.

This however, the drama, is very on brand for the family.

Rising as Remi saunters away with a fiercely intent waddle of discovery, Kaisel shakes the collar in his hand to make the tags jungle as he walks after, gaze scanning the brush from his higher cantage point. Some dogs don't like to be nakey, and he wonders if the sound of dog's clothing might help inspire it's approach, or at least earn an excited bark of familiarity.

Haters on my back like a backpack
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

Code stolen from Queen Sky

remi

At the mention of Flora, Remi's little raccoon head twists around in a full, sharp doglike swivel, masked face staring up at Kaisel with the most baffled expression a trash panda can muster. His whiskers splay forward, one ear flicks; the look is pure what are you talking about, delivered with the blank, slightly offended innocence only a round woodland creature can achieve.

He holds the stare for a long, silent beat—long enough to imply he is genuinely trying to parse whatever comparison Kai thinks he’s making—before the limits of raccoon attention span win decisively. His nose twitches. His head turns. The mystery of Flora fades instantly from his tiny mind.

Then the collar jingles.

Remi whips around so fast his tail poofs with momentum. His entire little body vibrates with sudden excitement, a hopeful chirring sound bursting out of him, only to halt instantly when he sees it’s just Kaisel shaking the tags. Remi gives himself a tiny shake, re-fluffing his dignity, and marches onward with a determined little waddle, nose lowered in a pantomime of tracking that is—if one knows anything about raccoons—completely fake. He sniffs with great drama, pauses to examine a suspicious leaf, snuffles at a patch of roots with all the seriousness of a bloodhound on a scent, then nods gravely to himself as if confirming deeply important canine clues.

He absolutely has no idea where he’s going, but he keeps going anyway.

we're only human but we've got hands & hearts & noses
So stop and smell the fuckin' roses

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

Still not fluent in raccoon, Kaisel doesn't understand this particular look, thinking his point rather clear on its own. "What?" he whispers instead, looking down and then behind at either side of him, half hopeful the dog had appeared without him noticing and Remi froze in an attempt not to send it away. When there's nothing and Remi's stare continues to persist in a way that's entirely baffling and yet makes him feel utterly exposed somehow, Kaisel gestures wildly with his hands. "Whaaaaaaat!"

When the woodland king relents and starts to turn away, Kaisel eases. Still unsure what that'd meant, at least it's passed, and it hadn't been anything grand enough to warrant beast back to man, so SHRUG. It's rather alarming then when Remi is suddenly whipping back towards him with all the resemblance of an upset puffball that's grown legs. "Gods!" he swears, taking a jarring step back, catching himself around the same time Remi seems to and they both pause. These dots he does connect, and he lifts up the collar again to jingle it. "Just me," he reassures, relief threaded there when he'd half been certain he was about to see rabid Remi.

"Naaaachooooooo," Kaisel calls out again as he follows behind the very lost raccoon who manages to make wandering seem official and technical. As they pass a vine, Kaisel reaches up for it with a grunt, yanking down amid a shower of droplets and cutting it free. He pauses to tie it onto the end of the collar, fashioning it into a leash that'll help once they find the mongrel.

Haters on my back like a backpack
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

Code stolen from Queen Sky

remi

Remi pauses again as Kaisel starts gesturing with big, dramatic sweeps of his hands like he’s trying to ward off ghosts or negotiate with an invisible performer. The raccoon just stares up at him, unmoving, tiny black eyes round and glassy with absolutely no interpretive assistance offered. Not a tilt of the head. Not a twitch of understanding. Just the kind of flat, inscrutable look that small animals deploy when confronted with human nonsense. If anything, the longer Kaisel flails, the more Remi’s stillness becomes pointed. A furry little mirror reflecting every ounce of Kaisel’s rising bewilderment.

Only once the soldier reaches peak whaaaaat does Remi finally give a small, decisive blink—an animal equivalent of closing a book on a topic he refuses to bother with—and turns back to his extremely fake tracking.

He sniffs a root. He paws at a suspicious leaf. He circles a patch of mud with the gravity of a seasoned investigator. Every movement is exaggerated, focused, full of false purpose, as though the very spirit of tracking has descended into his small, soggy body. And he keeps waddling forward with theatrical determination, blissfully unaware of the fact that Kaisel is now creating actual gear for the moment they inevitably have to leash a very confused, very probably-ungrateful Nacho.

we're only human but we've got hands & hearts & noses
So stop and smell the fuckin' roses

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!