Cogita ante salis [Furfur Diary 6] [Slight Gore Warning]

“you sir!
How true sir!
Your game too sir?
Something new sir!
why so blue sir?
Won’t you be joining in my rue sir?”

Furfur bounded high above the ground in hot pursuit of his quarry.
It was a stupid and childish game, but then again wasn’t anything he did in the forest? The days were long, the rain heavy, and he was tired of listening to Rhys’ constant lamenting about how he had been demasculinized by the fashionista from hell Jenè-paul. Therefore he brought it upon himself to rectify the situation and to “get even” so to speak. In this case “get even” was slowly gaining out of control. For the past week he had been tailing the deer and doing everything in his power to ruin its life.

He had never before thought of himself as a poltergeist, but the temptations were always there. The slightest flick of a branch or lifting of a monument could send even the strongest deer scrambling with their tail between their legs. It was intoxicating. This power…how could he have ignored it before? Never before in life could he manipulate his visage nor disappear in the breeze. He had, up until now, only used such abilities to amuse the young fawns of the forest. He would sneak up behind them and levitate them across the grounds. To the untrained eye it would appear that the fawn was flying when in fact it was standing on the back of a spirit. This was usually followed by slowly materializing and sharing in a giant fit of giggles over the situation.

He was not feeling up for fun and games now. It probably was best to say that he was not thinking, nor did he really care about the consequences. The houndstooth hellion was running about wantonly dressing up deer as if they were his play things. He had twice observed the beast at work since it preyed on Rhys. Since that day it had bullied a fawn into a corner to spell spam it until it disappeared into black smoke. The next day the pinstripe obsessed problem child had taken down his nemesis Basil and threaded flowers in his antlers. That was the last straw. Basil was his enemy. Not a dress up doll for a giant four legged rooster.

He slunk after the deer and slowly slipped into the wind, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike. Jenè-Paul had no place to hide in this forest. His large size and vibrant feathers made him stick out no matter where he attempted to slip in. Furfur had amused himself by stacking fallen logs in front of the entrance of the Old Oak when Jenè-paul attempted to hide within and had starved the beast for days until it squeezed out looking like a ragged plucked chicken. He could have stopped there, but who was stopping him?

“Why do you sir?
you’re in view sir!
I’ll walk through sir!
Nearly to sir!”

He dove down the ravine and let his voice echo around the forest. The taunting had begun soon after his prey escaped the oak and had continued until this point. The peacock’d nightmare was no longer so sleek and flashy. He sauntered on deliriously from his invisible antagonist. The antagonist however would not hide any longer. Furfur drifted forward until he was level with the beast and slipped down to the ground waiting in silence. It did not take long for the beast to collapse and he eager leaned forward to materialize.
“Greetings sir.”

The beast opened one eye to examine the snow white creature before him. He shook his head a few times to focus the image and cocked it to the side. “Hmph. What is it you be wanting with Jenè-paul?”

Furfur shed off the fog and leaned forward. He had taken his life appearance of the monarch pelt and fan antlers but kept his grinning mask over his face.
“Hello sir.” He could not hide his excitement and his muzzle wore a grin almost as broad as his mask.

Jenè-paul gave him a weary look. A foolish deer and an ugly one at that! ick! That mask! What self respecting deer could flaunt such a travesty? He stretched his neck forward and bit onto the side giving it a tug.

Furfur couldn’t help but grin and pulled back with equal enthusiasm.
“what is that you are doing sir?”

Jenè -paul growled under his breath and pulled harder. “Making you beautiful! This mask, it is ugly! I fix i-“ The mask pulled away with a loud tearing sound and he stared in horror at the mess below. This was..the creatures face?

Furfur held the illusion and leaned forward allowing the blood to flow and the mess of fabricated muscle and veins on bare bone to pulse sickeningly.
“Am I beautiful now sir?” He could not contain his laughter and kicked his hind legs in the air before shedding the rest of the pelt for that of the rotting maggot eaten zombie. He made the appearance as gruesome as possible and howled with laughter as he tore around the clearing.
“Am I attractive!? Am I pretty?! They always told me I was pretty on the inside and now I see it!” He screamed with insane laughter and brushed against the flashy pelt of Jenè-paul, riddling it with the flecks of dried blood and tissue. All the while he continued the banshee like shrieking and stirred the energy of the forest around him. The wind howled savagely as the leaves were stripped from the surrounding trees and the whole area was blanketed in a wave of malicious intent.

Jenè-paul stumbled to his feet and dropped the mask in horror. It was sickening. That creature was horrifying. He tried to take a few steps forward and was petrified as it continued to dance around him. He lowered his head and violently relieved the contents of his stomach on the ground. The smell was unbearable and it just would not stop. He backed away from the clearing and felt his knees buckle under the weight of his own body. What beast from hell was this? He lowered his head and roared in protest as it riddled his beautiful pelt with its own filth.
“STOP! GET AWAY! I BANISH YOU! WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANT!”
Furfur slowed in his dancing and materialized in the air, face level with the fashionista. “Want? Want sir? What do I want?” He grinned and leaned forward until the fabricated rotting face was pressed against Jenè-paul’s own worried expression. “I want..you to smile!” He roared with laughter and allowed the form to decompose on the spot and fall limply to the ground. He did not know who the unfortunate corpse had been, but it had served its purpose as the archetype of his horrific rotting appearance. He had never before felt such satisfaction until he watched the fiendish costumier’s legs buckled underneath him. He materialized again in his snowy pelt and retrieved his discarded mask. The coward has fainted from terror. He surveyed the damage to the area and took hold of one of Jenè-paul’s back legs. No doubt the carnage would be blamed on one of the demons of the forest or the mysterious workings of the Twin Gods. He planted his legs firmly in the ground and drug the beast for the pond.

It took some time to reach his destination due to his weakened state. The gruesome display had taken most of his energy and he was forced to take short rests on the way. The cowardly designer had remained unconscious the whole time and he could relax in plain view. To any observing deer it would appear as if the two deer were just taking a nap together. He neared the water’s edge and braced himself against the side of Jenè-paul before giving a forceful push to send the body down the drop off. The creature normally slept under there. Chances are the catty couturier would turn the next day to force his ideas of good taste on the deer of the forest, but for now he had rid the forest of one villain.

He gave the water an approving nod and turned to trot back for a well deserved nap. A familiar shape in the line of trees halted his retreat. Kita. He froze in his tracks. How much had she seen? He tentatively approached the object of his affection and lowered his head to give her a nuzzle. “Hey I was just dri-“ She roughly pushed his head to the side and bristled. “Furfur that was sick!”

He cowered and feigned ignorance. “W-what? I was just you know getting a dr-“ She lowered her small horns and caught him completely by surprise. This was unusual. She had never before shown aggression, even when he teased her by pretending to drown. “D-Don’t you lie to me! I saw everything! W-why..w-what..” She was too overcome with emotion to even form a coherent sentence and turned her head to the side, allowing the tears to flow freely. He eyes were focused on the ground and the only sounds were the occasional sob and choked out word. “w-what..y-you..I thought you were better than that!” Furfur’s heart sank. It..seemed like a good idea at the time. He was just having a bit of fun teasing Jenè-paul and scaring him a bit. He tilted his head to the side and studied her expression. Fear, anxiety, worry, anger, confusion.

“I..am sorry you had to see that Kita.” He gave her a quick nuzzle before she could protest and slunk shamefully for the tree line. He could not explain his actions and any attempts to do so would only hurt both of them. He would reconcile with her in the future. For now it was best to lay low and allow her to make her own decisions. He was fully aware he could have lied about how it was a game they played and calmed her in an instant, but such an action would have left him guilty. He was fully capable of savagery and antagonistic behavior. Hiding such a fact from her would only lead to further conflict down the road. For now he had to rest and conserve his energy for the day when Jenè-paul chose to come after him for revenge.

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Cogita ante salis means “think before you leap”

Featuring:
Themaskerade’s deer Jenè-paul
kittycatkita’s doe Kita

This piece was done in response to This Story

Themaskerade and I are having a mutual "writer war". A conflict was presented (Jenè-paul giving Rhys an ambush makeover) and I responded with this story. In the future he will respond to this story with a story chronicling how Jenè-paul reacts to what happened today. I will respond to that one and so on so forth.

Anyone can get in on this conflict should it escalate to a point where you feel that your deer is being affected by their spat OR you would like them to be involved. Feel free to post a short story that writes your deer into the conflict and we will happily acknowledge their presence. You can react to their spats in any manner you want whether it be siding with one or the other, witnessing an act of revenge, or even trying to break up their fight.

You may unknowingly find your deer in one of these stories if they are a close friend with any of our deer as that makes them a 'target' for silly humiliation or revenge tactics. There will be no harm done to deer that get written into the story. At most they might get a makeover/stern talking to/prank pulled on them etc. depending on who includes them. Sometimes they may just make a cameo like Kita did above.

Note: This spat is entirely fictional.

Our deer will never act hostile in forest to each other or any deer who get involved in our 'writer war' regardless of what 'side' they're on.

Dhina, Furfur, Rhys, or Finata could post a 'writer war' story response. They will clearly be marked with a "this is a response to (story)" notifier.

January 18, 2010 - 10:56pm — KittyCatKita

Kita stood, watching Furfur

Kita stood, watching Furfur as he slipped toward the trees. She stomped her feet in frustration, looking after him again from the torn earth beneath her hooves. She sighed softly, head lowered as her gaze turned toward the pond.
She had never seen Furfur behave that way. He had tormented Reed by sitting upon him when he rested or pretending to fall from the pond's edge to frighten her. But never before had he acted in such a way, purpously being melevolent to another being. She snorted softly, shaking her head slightly to shake the tears from her eyes as she again looked back after Furfur.
She didn't know what to do, or what she would say, but she finally sighed and turned, following after him. Her nostrils flared gently, following his scent before she stood a few feet from him.
"You know, I am still extremely disappointed with you..." she whispered, blue-green eyes watching him "But... well.. I don't think that I could ever kick you out of my life.." she didn't approach, but also didn't leave, waiting to see what he would do.

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January 19, 2010 - 4:58am — themaskerade