Lemon's Journal - July 21, 2009

lemon's picture
Ooc; bleh, this is long and rather boring. But I wanted to write something, so I did. C: Verdy, if I butchered Walter, I’m sorry.

When I awoke, I found myself curled up against the warmth of one of the larger playground rocks. I lay for a moment, my legs entangled, listening carefully to my surroundings. Nearby, I could hear two deer engaged in a sort of fight. Carefully, I rose to my feet, and there I remained for a moment, listening intently to the sounds of battle. There are moments when, I fear, a sort of morbid delight overtakes me, whenever I hear the sound of two stags engaged in some trivial conflict. I like to think that it is an instinct which I acquired in the womb, listening to my feral and highly uncultured father duke it out with competing males; rather than some sort of sociopathic flaw in my mental status. It isn’t, after all, as if I desire blood and carnage. I rather hate it when fights break out, in fact. Yet there is always a twinge of dreadful glee, whenever the sound of clashing antlers happens to strike my ears. And so it was, in this moment, that I listened quietly for a moment while the two stags fought – though it was evident from the very start that the battle was piteously one-sided.

It came about, then, that I was approached by a little fawn. My heart skipped a beat as I felt the young one draw near, curious about me and carefully attempting to decipher my nature. Already, I could tell that this youngster was a brave heart, coming so close to two fighting grown stags. Yet, fawns in the forest needed to be careful – whether they be skittish, or whether they be brave. There were more than a few unsavory characters roaming the forest, and one could not be too careful, at such a delicate size. I nestled my muzzle gently against the nape of the fawn’s neck, giving him a friendly nudge. To my surprise, the fawn responded by thrusting his little head forward and casting a spell onto me! I felt my body begin to tingle and fold into itself as I shrunk down to a miniscule size, and glided up into the air. From where I floated in my new avian form, I could hear the little fawn giggling in glee from ground level, and I had to smile at his sweet naivety.

The fawn, being of short attention span, aptly trotted in another direction. I was now alerted to the fact that the two stags were still engaged in battle – and now, it was becoming quite clear that the war was unfairly fought. No longer were there sounds of clashing antlers – but now, I could hear nothing but Walter’s angry grunts and snarls, accompanied by the fearful whimpers of his foe. My heart sunk when I realized what was happening. These were no ordinary rutting males – this was Walter, warring against a deer I knew faintly as an acquaintance, named Enigma. Walter – oh, angry, perilous Walter! Though his hatred was sometimes just, more often than not his victims were entirely innocent. I feared that today was no exception. I beat my avian wings, hurrying over to where the two stags had positioned themselves. I wasn’t angry, but agitated. Another confrontation with Walter would surely not help our current status – but at this point, I was merely hoping to distract the older stag from his current chosen victim, allowing him a chance to escape. With a ruffle of my silky white feathers, I shook off the spell and resumed my usual deer figure.

As it happened, I stood between the two stags, lifting my head proudly as Walter grunted and snarled impatiently at me for a moment. I lifted myself up onto my hind legs, letting him know that I was ready to fight if need be – but I did not strike him. And then, for a long moment, I waited. I expected to feel him shoving past me, or even striking at me with his hooves. Yet, he remained absolutely motionless, as if mulling over the situation in his mind. We – two blind, scarred, bloodied deer – stood facing each other for some time. Then he turned and walked away, slowly – a most unexpected reaction. I felt myself tremble, and I realized how terrified I had been, in that moment. I turned to see if Enigma was alright, but he had fled – a wise choice.

Hesitantly, I trailed along behind Walter. Now that I had freed his victim from the demon’s wrath, I found myself worrying for Walter’s health. Though I could not see him, I could smell the blood leaking from him, could hear the pained weight of his breath. I followed him, my brows wrinkled with concern. He walked for some time, and then settled down in a patch of long grass. I leaned against a tree, listening carefully as he lay some distance ahead. I stayed there for quite some time, until finally finding the courage to approach him. He stood, and I wondered if he was uncomfortable with my presence. I waited for a moment, breath baited, wondering whether to stay or go. My maternal side urged me to stay, to nestle up to the demon and soothe his wounds – but my logical side warned me to get away from him, when he was in such unstable spirits. I dipped my body down into a bow, and tilted my head to listen for his reaction. He merely stood, watching me carefully. I took a step back, and then another, until I had made up my mind to leave the poor old stag alone.

I trotted quite a distance away, finding a comfortable place in the shade. Just at the moment I felt the cool grass against my belly, I heard Walter calling for me. I stood a little too quickly, and was overcome by dizziness. I smiled in his direction – pleased, but a little confused. He moved toward me and I toward him. Evidently, he had had a change of heart – and I couldn’t have been happier. He pressed his head against mine and I gladly returned his half-embrace. After a moment, I stepped back and nudged his chin encouragingly with my muzzle, smiling to myself.

“Don’t worry so much, dear Walter. It will all be okay. I promise.”

Exhausted, Walter pressed his head against the nape of my neck, and I could feel the wetness of his cheeks. Whether blood or tears, I could not tell. Either way, I felt my heart sink with misery and worry, and my own eyes began to sting with unwelcomed tears.

I would spend the entire night praying continuously that my words would come true.
Verdalas's picture

squee. This is so trueee.

squee. This is so trueee. Walty would have totally been in tears (granted noone else was staring at them whilst they were having epic hugs).

And your epic writing talents were indeed epic, for they are my talents which you stole.. ?
lemon's picture

8D I'm glad I didn't do too

8D I'm glad I didn't do too badly portraying Walter, then. I always write Lemon's journals according to the way I perceive events in the forest, but sometimes the way I see things don't always mesh with the way other players see things.

Also, pff. If only I really did have your epic skills. :|
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