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Post by Delilah Daybreaker on Dec 29, 2020 11:43:55 GMT
WEEK 1
The girl was on her way to the fighting pits again. Something to pass the time whilst she thinks. She’s been doing a lot of that recently. Ever since the Accords. What a day. What an event.
What an absolute fucking disaster.
She has not written a single report since – though she has made notes. But can they really blame her? The girl was keeping up with her training, as habit has enforced unto her. Hone your body and you will be able to hone your mind. Breathe in the moment. Feel the air as your sword parts flesh. Drink in the dying light of your kill. Pray for the offering to be accepted, that it is enough because one day it could be your light going out.
The girl pulls her hood lower over her face.
A clattering comes from her right and she freezes in the mouth of an open alley. Then a soft mewling in the dark. Black eyes peer into the dark and in the fading light of day the girl sees two little glowing orbs gazing right at her. Is it a rat? A badger? She has heard badgers live in these alleys - odd but then this whole place is different. To question invites resistance. Observation allows for adaptability.
A soft hiss comes from the spot where the eyes are and the girl smiles softly under her mask. A cat. She steps further into the dark alley, the shadows touching her soles in greeting, welcoming her to their home. She crouches down, cloak billowing out behind her.
“Hey, ferocious beastie. You must be hungry.”
Quick hands produce a bit of dried meat from a pouch at her side – always keep something on you, just in case. She waits to observe what the little one will do.
“I won’t bite,” her velvet voice adds, uncharacteristically softly.
The cat, cautious at first, emerges from a curtain of shadows, eyeing the meat. Its nose twitches, making its whiskers quiver. It is small, quite scrawny, probably hasn’t eaten in days. It eagerly wolfs down the scraps, little satisfied noises coming from it.
The girl reaches out to pet the runt. Its ears flatten as it hisses, tiny sharp claws sweeping out. She winces, biting out a curse as the thing dashes back into the safety of the shadows.
“Alright. I see how it is. I wouldn’t trust me at first either.”
There is a plump bead of blood on the back of her hand. The girl smiles again and stands.
“I’ll see you again, ferocious beastie.”
Turning back to the mouth of the alleyway, the girl continues on her way to the pits.
Two little glowing eyes watch her go. They keep watching for a little after the girl has left before coming out again. The runt slinks forward cautiously. If it was a smarter creature it would have noticed there is more meat there than before the girl dared to try and touch her. But it is hungry, so very hungry, and all it cares about is filling that void with the tasty morsels in front of it.
---
Standing: Neutral
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Post by Delilah Daybreaker on Jan 8, 2021 11:12:15 GMT
WEEK 2
The girl returns to the alley, carrying food for the little runt she happened across the week before. It’s been a cold week, wet too. Will it be here? Or did death’s cold fingers wrap around it’s tiny body to carry it away?
“Meiw…”
She smiles hearing the little one’s call. Sly footed, she comes to the spot she had last seen the kitten only to see it waiting for her, crouched in the shadows.
Without a word the girl crouches down to lay out the food she brought. She would claim she had no intention of returning to find the kitten, that it was mere happenstance that she had a freshly, grilled fish in her pouch. If anyone mentioned the fact that the girl herself does not like fish then they may find themselves making quick friends with her fists.
Steam wafts up from the foil wrapped pink coloured fish, drifting towards the small, black kitten. It’s eyes go wide, their pupils dilate, and its whiskers quiver. Careful as before, it comes out, eyes flicking back and forth between the girl’s masked face and the tender fish. The girl does not move. Eventually, the kitten gets close to the fish, licks it, pauses, then starts chomping down.
Dark eyes soften at the delicate gobbling noises the kitten makes. The girl shifts and the kitten stops, but she is merely moving into a more comfortable crouch, leaving a little distance between herself and the kitten.
“You have expensive taste for an alley cat,” amuses the girl. The kitten’s ears flick towards her but it does not stop eating.
---
Standing: Friendly, 2/3 Bonding Checks Complete
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Post by Delilah Daybreaker on Jan 14, 2021 18:27:38 GMT
WEEK 3
The tiny black cat is waiting for the girl.
It’s whiskers tremble, watching many feet pass by, some with a heavy stomp, others with loud click-clacks. Those ones are the worst. Not only does the sound grate on the ears, those people tend to speak loudly too. As if their click-clack feet don’t say enough about them.
The tiny black cat waits.
Maybe it should go out and search for the girl. It has been a while, a few days even, since its last good meal of fancy fish. One tiny paw lifts up, held in front of it’s small chest. It freezes mid movement, the shadows shifting.
Is it her? Is it the girl?
“Hello ferocious beastie.”
“Meiw!”
“Were you waiting for me?”
“Mrrph.”
There’s a soft chuckle. “You don’t have me fooled. You were only waiting for your next luxurious meal.”
There is silence. It’s practically an admission.
“Lucky for you, I have something with me, though it’s not the fish. Suppose you might like it though.”
A puff of steam wafts up into its face and with it an explosion of smells – juicy meat, tender skin, lightly glazed into a golden brown. It’s little tongue sticks out just a smidgen.
The girl watches the small runt come out looking up at her briefly. She holds her cloak up over herself and the food so as the kitten emerges from the shelter of the crate its been using as a home, it doesn’t get soaked from the rain pouring down from the heavens. Winter in this land is strange. One day there’s light snow, the next it’s heavy rain. She has learned to not worry about the weather – training in all manner of extreme conditions means her body can handle a lot. At least, that’s the theory behind what her Master’s put her through.
The small cat rips a large piece of chicken from the leg, looking up at the girl as it attempts to chew what it bit off but some of it falls to the wet stone. The girl’s quick fingers pick it up.
A dark paw darts out to stop on her enclosed fingers, tiny claws resting on her skin. The girl starts to pull her hand back and the claws dig in. She stops, turns her hand over and offers the piece of meat to the cat.
Whiskers tickle her fingers as the morsel is scarfed down. Then there’s the feeling of a small, bristly tongue, licking the juices from her skin. When it is done that it looks up at her.
“Meiw.”
The girl tilts her head to the side thinking for a moment.
“Guess you’ll have to come back with me. Once you’ve had a taste of Chef Silas’ cooking it’s hard to think anything is better. Must be a halfling thing.”
As if it understood her, the tiny kitten leaps up towards the girl’s face and she early bats it away in surprised defence. But it was merely going into the crook of her neck under her hood. The girl gives the cat a side eyed glance.
“I see how it is. Next thing you know I’ll be carrying you around in one of those badger bjorns-”
Its tiny head butts the side of her jaw, pushing up the mask a little as it rubs itself against the girl’s face, the sound of a loud motor coming from the little creature’s chest.
The girl sighs with a smile.
---
Standing: Loved, Bonding Complete
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Post by Delilah Daybreaker on Jan 29, 2021 10:24:07 GMT
WEEK 4“Get back here!” A small black shape darts away from Silas, carrying a fish the size of its body in its mouth. Or trying to. “When I catch you I’ll-!” The halfling seemingly trips on a shadow and nearly goes flying but one of the tabards catches him. “What did I- Oh yes, thank you I’m- No, stop that there’s no need to fuss! I am fine. Yes. Stop. Thank you. Ahem!” The head chef looks around but has lost sight of the tiny furry thief. “Shit.” With a huff, hands being thrown up in the air, Silas turns back to the double doors that lead to the kitchen. Dinner isn’t going to cook itself and the tabards, though helpful, need his ever watchful eye there to ensure they don’t burn the potatoes. From a shadowed alcove a pale slip of a girl steps out, holding the small thief by the scruff of its neck, the fish still in it’s mouth. The girl looks the cat in the eye. “Home is not the kitchen. It is with me.” The kitten’s tail twitches back and forth defiantly playful. The girl sighs. “Lets see if we can get that fish cooked for you.” “Mmrph!”Inspired by this video. ---
Command: Recognise Places/People - HOME
Status - [FAILED]. Attempt again next week.
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Post by Delilah Daybreaker on Feb 6, 2021 13:34:36 GMT
WEEK 5
“You should be focusing on why you came, not playing with a stray you picked up from a dark alleyway.”
“I am not idle,” the girl says flatly. “You may think this is all play, it serves a purpose.”
The robed woman sighs. “You cannot possibly mean to-”
“What I do and how I go about it are up to me, not you.”
The girl looks at the woman but is unable to read her veil covered face. Dark brows furrow, waiting for a response – possibly even a challenge.
“Of course,” is the eventual soft response. Then the woman bows and steps back, disappearing into the shadows.
The dark devours the silence.
From the doorway comes a soft footfall as a small black nose sniffs the air. The girl stays perfectly still, watching from the shadows of the room as the Little Beastie tentatively makes it way over to the bed. It pauses, one paw lifted off the ground, smelling the air. Its attention shifts to the bedside table where a small dish of salmon sits, waiting.
The girl steps into the moonlight. The small cat, preparing to leap up, suddenly turns around to face her, hair bristling up on its back in surprise. Then it sees who it is and gives a soft mew for a hello.
“Welcome home.”
---
Command: Recognise Places/People - HOME
Status – [SUCCESS].
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Post by Delilah Daybreaker on Feb 6, 2021 16:30:03 GMT
WEEK 6
“Good. Again.”
She pulls out a piece of dried bacon from her pouch and Little Beastie stands up. Bright yellow eyes follow her fingers as she holds the morsel out for the small cat to smell and follow back and forth between them. After making three passes the girl lifts her hand a little higher, making the small black cat sit back until it’s rump is on the floor.
“Good,” the girl says.
She bends her fingers into a sign of knuckles and there’s a soft clicking sound as the girl feeds the piece of bacon to the small cat. The dark pools of her eyes are alight with smug satisfaction.
“You learn fast, when there’s treats involved,” the girl comments with amusement. “Lets see if you can do this with just hand signals…”
It was a venerable obstacle course set up in the courtyard of Fort Ettin. Boxes and crates, puddles, discarded and broken weapons, anything that would be a challenge. The girl had set everything up near to the training yard, within view of the Medical Tent. She saw Richart watching them, attentively, mindful of what was happening and worry dipping their brows down.
A constant worrier that one.
It was cold, the ground was wet, but Little Beastie was doing well – extremely well. The small black cat listened to her every command, every little click that signalled success, and enjoyed every treat of bacon rewarded to it.
The kitten was smart, finding the easiest path. But though it had a natural instinct for the best path, the girl made it follow her. Her lithe form made leaps across planks of wood, tumbles over crates and light steps across sinking ground, and Little Beastie followed. The fact that this was not too dissimilar to her own training was not lost on her, though the stakes had been higher for her, and much more fatal.
A few of the regulars to the training yard were watching when they weren’t trying to beat each other to a pulp. Bruce, another pink bandage wrapped over his head, stepped out of the medical tent and came over to watch the girl and the cat both make silent landings at the end of the obstacle course.
“Are you training for the circus or something?” he called out, a half grin on his face.
The girl turned to look at him. He had not noticed how dark her eyes were before. There was something hungry about them that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He shifted uncomfortably.
“Or something,” was her simple reply.
---
Command: Sit/Lie Down
Status – [SUCCESS].
Command: Stop/Move
Status – [SUCCESS].
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Post by Delilah Daybreaker on Feb 27, 2021 12:53:40 GMT
WEEK 7
The girl held in her hands a small harness made of soft leathers and cloth that she was trying to get onto the small black cat but it was being fussy. It clearly did not like the idea of anything constraining it. But that wouldn’t stop the girl from trying.
“If you would hold still it would will be over before you-”
A small dark claw swiped out.
The girl let go of the small cat and it ran under her bed to hide in the shadows. Bright amber eyes looked out from her followed by a soft growl.
She sighed.
“Fine. We can try later.”
After a full plate of delicious salmon, the little beast was knocked out cold. The girl had made sure to put the bare minimum amount of sleeping draught over the fish but it still surprised her that the little creature ate everything before it passed out. It certainly made it easier to get the harness on – and less bloody.
It was simple and light, but strong. Not something meant to have a lead attached to it but rather so the small cat could carry the girl’s reports on those days when she could not get away herself. There were many types of adventurers in the Fort, some more nosey than others, and she realised the other day how, despite her weeks of being here, she had yet to make any “friends”. If she were to really assimilate into this culture she was going to have to try.
And that meant not always sneaking off to deliver reports.
The small black cat began to stir.
“Wakey wakey, time for training…”
---
Command: Carry/Deliver
Status – [SUCCESS].
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