{SEASONAL EVENT} Too Gourd To Be True {Open}
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#15
The fox flicked an ear at the reassurance, dipping his head to give the shin one last nose over, as if checking for himself that the blond who had defended them both so ably was indeed unhurt. He was going to be limping for a day or two, but then, his leg was much smaller. He was much smaller! And the gourds had been correspondingly larger in comparison, able to do more damage.

Not that being in his human form would have helped much, really. He wasn’t a fighter by preference, and his weapon of choice was a poor one for dealing with numerous small foes that needed to be smashed rather than poked. And besides, once he had an audience there hadn’t been any chance of him changing back. Old habits died too hard, and he was still far too new to this world.

Besides, he rather liked the other man treating him like a fox. Well, mostly like a fox. They had made a good team in their respective shapes and Jigano was feeling more at home in his own skin than he had in awhile. There was something simple and freeing about not being able to speak to someone, to meet them through body language and a shared adventure without worrying about words getting in the way.

He had other ways to communicate, and to get information in this form, anyways. Ears flagged half-back, careful in case Rory moved quickly, he leaned forward tentatively to sniff the offered hand and sift the scents that he found there. Pumpkin, strongest and foremost of course, but there was horse as well. Something doggy… more then one. And was that… goat? Simple, rural smells. Homey, even, and no trace of blood or violence.

Slowly his ears perked forwards again and when the hand turned upwards he tensed but didn’t pull away. The scratching felt… oddly good, actually, and he let his eyes close a little, relaxing slowly at the unusual but pleasant experience. Normally he didn’t care for being touched without invitation, and never in fox-form but… this was nice. Yes. Definitely nice. Letting his eyes close completely he tilted his jaw into Rory’s fingers, willing to swallow his pride a little longer to enjoy the new experience.
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
Played by: Neowulf Offline
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Posts: 397 | Total: 642
MP: 970
#16
It was amazing, really, how some things were the same across all species: how this creature that was neither animal nor man spoke a language he could so clearly understand, simply because he watched. He saw the hesitation, the uncertainty, the curiosity, and he recognized it from so many other animals that he had greeted. While some threw themselves at you, begging to be scratched or stroked, some rather thought you were going to eat them, and cowered away, but one thing they had in common (as long as they hadn't been abused, or were feral, of course): the curiosity. The moment when they went from leaning back, no matter how slight, to leaning forward, again, no matter how slight.

He let the fox take its time with sniffing his hands, waiting until it seemed it wouldn't shy away if he moved.

And boy.. was it soft.

Rory had never touched a living fox before; he couldn't charm them, obviously, but he'd come across a fair few of their pelts in his trade. It was one thing to touch those dead hides, quite another to touch one that still lived and breathed. There was warmth beneath the soft fur of its jaw, a pulse in its shuddering veins, a mind behind the watchful, blue eyes. Slowly, as the fox relaxed into his hand, a smile spread across his face, radiant and bright.

It seemed too unreal, but he wasn't going to waste the precious moment by doubting it. Instead, he took the fox's obvious enjoyment as all the encouragement he needed, gaining confidence, moving his hand around to try and stroke and scratch its cheek, perhaps even the base of an ear.
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#17
The man was impertinent in his liberties but... he was also gentle. Blue eyes opened a slit as the hand shifted and Jigano caught the lovely smile, radiant and innocent in spite of the gourd guts they'd both been spattered by. Even if he'd had any doubt before, that smile reassured him that the blond meant him no harm at all - that, perhaps, he found the fox as charming as the fox was finding the man.

And it wasn't as if there were anyone else around to see him like this, or any who could recognize him even if they did...

With a sigh somewhere between resignation (for the sake of his pride) and contentment (far more sincere) the fox leaned into the petting and scratching a few moments more, ears drooping with relaxation at the first ever attention they'd been paid by human fingers. Calloused fingers, and strong, well used to honest work, he thought idly. The man didn't carry himself like a farmer, though, and he'd wielded that weapon with an ease of long practice. Some sort of guard, perhaps? Or a hunter? His strength and skill had certainly saved the day!

And he was good with animals, instinctively so. There was a quiet to him, a sort of groundedness that made him feel oddly... safe. Reassuring. He didn't move fast or grab for what he wanted, and he didn't speak or try to treat Jigano with anything other than respect, even though the fox was so much smaller than him.

As a man he might have said so many things - introduced himself, offered his gratitude, joked to make light of the situation - but sometimes words just got in the way.

And if he let Rory scratch him any longer he was going to give up on his pride entirely and crawl into the man's lap, dignity be damned.

With obvious reluctance in the tilt of his ears and the droop of his tail, the fox shook off the gentle petting, trying to pretend he didn't let slip the soft whine of dismay at losing the contact. If Rory would let him he'd turn to give his hand a grateful nuzzle before scampering back a little ways, out of reach. For a moment he hesitated, leaning back towards the blond--

--But, no. They would meet again, he'd make sure of it, but for now he needed to clear his head. And let Rory get back to whatever he'd come into the woodlands to do, before Jigano had interrupted him with his game. With a soft sound of parting - somewhere between a whine and a trill - the fox turned and trotted from the clearing on three good legs, still favoring the fourth.
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
Played by: Neowulf Offline
Change author:
Posts: 397 | Total: 642
MP: 970
#18
He wanted to drown in that white fur, to grab the fox and hold it tight against his chest, bury his face in its ruff—and oddly enough, he wanted to cry, though there was nothing magical about petting a human.

But there was magic in two other things in that moment. One, the play of white, pristine hair between his fingers, the mixture of soft underfur and coarse guard hairs; he could watch his fingers slip through it for hours. It was entrancing.

The second thing was this: human or not, the fox had been uncertain, but chosen to stay. To trust. And if its expression was anything to go by, it was greatly enjoying Rory's attention, and he felt like giving it for eternities. Mushrooms, demon gourds, the incoming change of seasons—none of it mattered anymore. It was just him and his hand and the white fur and the slits of blue eyes peering at him from a canine face.

Yet all things, whether good or bad, must come to an end. Rory didn't know how much time had passed; too much, and too little. The fox hesitantly broke the contact, and Rory let it—the tips of his fingers felt cold, the distance between them immeasurable. His face slipped from absorbed contentment to something sadder, yet he smiled when the fox nudged his hand. Deftly he twisted his hand, trying to run one of his fingers down the bridge of its nose, a mischievous little parting—one corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided smile.

Then the fox was out of reach, and Rory remained sitting where he was. He thought he saw regret in the parting, though he heard it in the called goodbye, and he wondered what it was that they had done here. "You take care of yourself now, okay?" he called gently after the fox, watching it trot out of sight, its gait uneven still. Hopefully it was nothing more than a deep bruise, easily treated once the Attuned shifted back to human form.

Gods...

Rory drew his knees up to his chest, ignoring the fact that his ass was getting cold, and picked at the bits of dead gourd still stuck on his clothes. Part of him felt incredibly foolish about the whole encounter—petting an Attuned as if it were a semi-feral animal? Petting it in the first place?

Groaning, Rory put his head in his hands for a moment. Whoever it was must think him a royal idiot, but...

It was hard to erase the memory of the fox's content face, hard to forget the weight of its head in his hand.

Once he felt pitiful—or cold—enough, Rory climbed back to his feet, cleaned off his pike, and resumed his mushroom hunting. Trying to sort out the fox encounter could wait until another day.


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