[Warning: Mature stuff ahead and all that. Sensitive kiddies, beware XD]
Also if you would like to contact me for any reason, email at or Skype: Shioriness
D A R C Y --------------------------------------------------------------------------
. . . U P D A T E S . . . June 1st
Mental |||||||||||||||||||| Physical
"The poisons aren't helping anymore.
I keep up my consumption though, afraid...- afraid of what will happen if I give up. Ha. No. I know very well what will happen. I'll be overcome by madness- like my mother; my brother. For so long now, spiteing them has been my motivation to keep going. I thought I could prove them wrong. I thought I could show them that I was capable of love, and that others were capable of loving me, too.
Always the fool...
It's all a joke now - waking up every day, going through the motions. Do I look thinner? Sometimes I forget to eat...Well, aside from the plants that feed by growing nausea. I feel so sick, but somehow it's still better than the alternative...
I did venture down to the pond today. I stood ankle-deep in the water for the longest time, staring out across it's surface, looking for those devilish eyes amongst the lilypads. 'Neath...would he take me if I lay down and offer myself? Could it be that easy? He never showed, of course, and I remember laughing so hard I had to vomit in the reeds.
Heh, 'reed's. A fitting place for vomit.
The taste of my own blood still lingers on my tongue. Perhaps I wont have to go looking for the Reaper. Perhaps he'll find me first. I shouldn't care, but...the thought doesn't sit well with me. I can't die from this. I can't simply lay down and let myself wither away. But why? It was not as though my existance deserved an anymore nobler end... Yet my body aches - not just from sickness, but restlessness. That old familiar masochism that yearns for a more violent death. Go down fighting? There was an idea...
Alas, just an idea. I've always been full of silly ideas. In the end, would it really matter? Dead was dead. Nobody would waste their magic on me, drag me back from hell or revive my soul. There would be no regrets. There'd be nothing at all. I have no immediate plans to act on any such ideas, of course. I've been accused of overthinking things, and now is no different. Sitting here, alone, the sun on my bare face, it's easy to roll thoughts of my own mortality through my head
I would miss the sun."
D wanted this to be in his own words this time...
Also, relations updates.
General
Name: Darcy. Prefers just 'D' Gender: Stag Age: Late Thirties (Birthday: June 9th) Size: #13 Voice: Similar to Ethan Hawke Scent: Old Spice 8| The man your man could smell like~ Set: Monarch Pelt, Real Deer Mask, Fan Antlers
Personality
Laid back and easy-going, Darcy isn't the hardest stag to get along with. He's generally accepting of strangers big and small and takes anything 'out of the ordinary' in stride. While he has his charming and polite moments, the stag's humor is generally pretty dry. Sarcasm is a second language and making a joke out of everything is second nature. There's also a definitive air of self-confidence about him that makes up for his lack of size and general bulk. He faces challenges head on and all too often with a smirk on his face. Darcy has very strong principals and rules that make up his sense of 'right and wrong' and follows them closely...even if they sometimes seem a bit contradictory to others. He often expects the same courteousness in return and may pass judgement quickly on anyone who doesn't heed those expectations. Rudeness is something he doesn't take lightly.
Once a loyal and fiercely protective friend and lover, Darcy is now weary of close connections. He thrives on casual encounters, intimate or otherwise, and will reject any company he feels may be getting too close, or who is already close and straying - a 'hurt them before they hurt me' mentality. When he does acquire a friend or a lover, Darcy can lay the charm on thick. He's calm, sensitive, respectful and attentive, giving a deer exactly what they need when the occasion calls that he give anything at all - unless, of course, what they need goes against his own principals. He rarely ever opens up to anyone, unless you somehow manage to slip past his censors and grow closer to him then he often permits. His smile often times hides lies and the something that brews beneath his calm exterior can sometime be seen through his eyes and subtle expressions.
When he acquires an enemy, however, Darcy can hold grudges. He may even go out of his way to spite another if he feels the 'hurt' must be repaid. He holds no biased between males or females, treating them equally, and sometimes even fawns, though he adjusts his tactics according to weakness. He's not afraid of a fight, though he may refrain from one of loss is a certainty. Most of the time his confidence in his abilities trumps any doubt and he'll rush headlong into competition in ways that may appear reckless to most. When he fights, Darcy fights dirty. Quick on his feet and skilled with his maneuvers, he'll take down his opponent however he can if it's a serious battle. If not, he may enjoy teasing and taunting his enemy more then harming them, keeping just out of harm's way and dancing at the edge of danger.
There is a darkness in Darcy, of that you can be sure...but also a lot of light. He no longer is the stag he once was, but glimpses can still be seen beneath a colder, more distant mask. There is always a certain sadness and secretiveness about him, clear in his slow, thought-out expressions and careful words. He does his best to control the worst side of him through a variety of methods, and ignores the judgement passed on him. In anger and distress though, he sometimes loses all control and lets the darkness out in irrational bursts. During these times, he is a mere shadow of himself, empty yet full of rage and despair.
Bishop watched the emotions gather and change across the older stag's weathered face. I've taken on things nearly twice your size. If scars could speak... Bishop didn't question this piece of information, its truth or its wisdom... because what could someone possibly gain by fighting something twice their size? No, he filed it away for later.
There was a phrase in there, however, that stuck. Boyish displays of impudence. Again, Bishop had the feeling that he wasn't quite understanding something. That some valuable piece of information lay just outside his grasp. He compared himself to Mori... Wise, calm... And then, remembered himself when Darcy had ordered him to stop. Beside the playground, as he goaded Graph into a spar. It was fun, and useful, but certainly not something a wise old stag would do. He felt his chest squeeze, and that familiar resentment rose up again.
When Darcy mentioned weakness, mentioned loss, Bishop looked him over with honest consideration. Thankfully, the yes on the tip of his tongue never had a chance to fall. And again, he felt the resentment rise. Somehow, Darcy believed himself to be better than him. Despite strength and weakness. Despite stature. It was that same look everyone gave him. Henna. Jokerman. Even Mori's gentle eyes didn't regard him as a threat. Everyone saw him as this impudent boy. This thing wielding words.
Everyone except Eraline.
And for her, he held his tongue.
"I know nothing of herbs," he stated simply, looking down at the pile of weeds. He fought down the swell in his chest, once again searching for a solution. He looked back up at the stag, resigned, submissive. "But I learn quickly."
Bishop:
Did any of it get through? Hard to tell, really. Several different emotions seemed to ripple through the buck's eyes as he spoke, and most of his emotions were concealed behind his mask... but for the most part he remained reasonably calm. 'Heh. Darcy had to hand it to him...he was strong. Even in his own youth, the monarch had not stood quite so proud, nor had the grace of such stoicism. Yet, admirable as these qualities would seem – not doubt to sweet Eraline herself – Darcy felt skeptical of the coldness of it. Why was someone so young so hardened? Memories began to eat at him, unpleasant images of his past selves racing through his mind. He couldn't dwell on them.
Bishop hadn't earned any such sympathy yet.
“Oh, no? Hm...well that's unlucky,” the stag murmured, more to himself than to the resigned youth. What game was he playing at now? After all he'd said, the bold one chose to address herbs? Another admirable trait. Perhaps Bishop was not such a lost cause after all, and Eraline's tastes had earned some credit. Maybe. “Apparently I don't,” he chuckled once again, shaking his head at the persistent confusion that kept him guessing. Herla's directions and his earlier 'studying' of the plant were completely failing him now. Well, no, this flower certainly wasn't right, but those two... Hm. Despite his attempts at focusing, Bishop's presence weighed far too heavily on him to concentrate on the task. Clearly the boy wasn't going to make this easy on himself... Well, either of them, really. So what now? He could toy with his head a bit more for sure, yet the stag remembered who this was all for and gazed back up at the youth with an impatient sigh. “Tell me then... Straight, because I really don't appreciate bullshit. What are your intentions here? What do you intend to gain from me? More importantly, from Eraline?” His amber eyes hardened again, sincere in their wary curiosity. Eraline, yes...she was what was most important here...
[Last reply for tonight. Will pick up tomorrow :3 Night!]
Bishop was thrown a little off-kilter by the strange way Stag Darcy regarded the discussion of herbs. His voice turned practically flippant... Which was exactly why Bishop had chosen to pursue that topic. If Darcy was going to grant him what he wanted... needed... he was going to need more of that flippancy. He was going to need to wear down the stag's edge and find his way to the older one's core.
His ears perked slightly at the stag's chuckle, but the news was poor. If Stag Darcy knew nothing of herbs, he had nothing to teach him. A dead end. And once again, they were thrust back onto a sore topic, and once again, his voice turned sharp. Bishop's ears returned to their backwards, flat position, and his head fell an inch. Submissive.
"My intentions are what I said before. I disrespected Eraline's family. You. I wish to make amends." His heart beat faster with the half-truth. He didn't know if Stag Darcy would grant him the amends if he knew what it was for. If he knew he couldn't return to Eraline without it. He could still feel the greed emanating from the other deer. It was the same greed he felt pulsing in his own veins. The same greed he'd first reacted to... That had caused him to end up here, without her. "And... from Eraline..." he paused, thinking this over. He hadn't thought about why he wanted the doe... Simply that he did. He'd put thought into what he could give her. What he could provide. How he could win her. But... what he wanted from her? He wasn't sure. "I don't know," he finally answered, voice soft. He wanted her warmth, and her voice. He wanted the way she always got herself involved in bad situations, because she cared so much... And how sometimes she got this spark in her eye, and everyone knew that she was about to do exactly what they'd warned against. He wanted the way she coaxed him into dancing. How she looked so wonderful laughing, even though he knew he looked stupid, he couldn't stop.
Bishop smiled beneath his mask for a moment, but when he looked up, his eyes were hard. Focused.
"I want her... And for her, I need to undo my disrespect. At that time, I didn't know you were Eraline's family. I thought-" he cut himself off, ears flattening against his skull. He tried again, "If I had known that Stag Darcy was a member of Eraline's family, I would not have acted in such a way. I wish to make amends. If it is not a matter of honor... I need to know what it is. I need to fix it."
"So you are the one that my son has showed great deal of care for... perhaps we shall meet sometime. I would be interested in finding out just what Nightmare sees in you..."
—
"Your efforts are insignificant! I carry you to your deaths!"
Apparently the blunt approach wasn't all that effective either. Darcy looked unimpressed as the same line was repeated to him. Oye vey. Perhaps he should have added 'amends' to the list of words the boy didn't seem to have a proper grasp on. But this was not the more important bit of their conversation. When the topic turned to the doe caught between them, the stag expected a much better response.
He didn't get one.
The uncertainty he could forgive. Young love, heh... He was not so old to forget those agonizing adventures either. Forgivable or not though, he wasn't willing to accept this as a legitimate stand. Boys and their hormones needed to be kept in check, and Darcy couldn't help but narrow his eyes at Bishop's possessive declaration.
He wanted the doe but he didn't know why? This was a recipe for trouble if Darcy had ever heard one. The rest of what he had to say was mildly amusing. So the buck had thought him competition? The monarch wasn't sure if he should be flattered by the misunderstanding or creeped out. Surely he didn't appear that way with the young doe... No, surely not. “I am plenty old enough to be her father, boy,” he chastised dryly, not particularly amused by admitting it but finding it an oversight nonetheless, “What drew you to that conclusion is beyond me. Using that head of yours for something other than decoration would be a wise start...”
Despite the obvious mocking, his dark brows lifted, the intensity of his once irritable gaze lightening with a more questioning stare. Turning away from the patch of sunlight he approached the buck, gingerly applying weight to his injured leg until he stood only a couple feet in front of him. The difference in size between them was much more noticeable now, however unimpressive. Some things would never change.
Darcy regarded Bishop critically now. “I was wrong... this is a matter of honor, though not between the two of us. Eraline is nobody's possession. She is not an object to be won or coveted, and her wishes – no matter how against your own desires they may be - are to be respected... This pride of yours? It has no business around her, do you understand?”
He sighed, his ears falling back a bit as his eyes wandered over the others' mask. “As...completely insincere as you're coming off right now though... I guess I could give you something for a step in the right direction. She admires you... The Gods only know why, but for that I will overlook the past. I don't give my respect to just anyone though...if that's truly what you seek, you'll have to earn it."
Bishop looked on, still focused, the intensity of his purpose filling his thoughts where near hopelessness had threatened to overtake him before. Even upon first approaching Darcy, he'd seen the option, but not actually foreseen it leading to a good outcome. Now, he was sure of it. He would make it work. He'd do this, do anything, because he didn't have a choice.
The admission of age meant nothing to him. If Stag Darcy was old enough to be Eraline's father... what of it? Did that mean something? He pushed mentally past it, as well as the criticism. Focus. Find a weak point. There had to be something. Bishop's eyes widened at the stag's sudden change in expression, searching for the cause. He listened intently as the stag attempted to explain... But the young buck already knew that. Already knew about Eraline's choice. Her rights.
"I respect Eraline," he said with surety. It was Eraline's family... there were so many... Those were the ones he had trouble keeping track of. Trouble respecting. Especially ones who seemed guilty of the same sins they were accusing others of possessing. Bishop consciously relaxed his jaw to keep the muscle from clenching.
Focus.
Insincere...?!
Focus.
So focused was he that he almost missed the declaration. The phrase that slipped so easily past the stag's lips, as if it were nothing at all. A whisper the wind might have carried away, if Bishop had been paying less attention.
I will overlook the past.
Bishop's knees wobbled, and he stared at the stag, mind grabbing at responses, and coming up with none.
"That is... you are..." he shook his head, drawing himself up, but failing to wipe the stunned confusion from his face. "You are granting me... amends?"
A soft snort was forced from the monarch's nostrils when Bishop stubbornly defended his respect for the doe. It was...difficult to take anything he said seriously, really. Darcy had seen the buck in action more than once, and he didn't seem to have much respect for anything. There were plenty of arguments he could use against him, and yet he remained silent on the matter. Perhaps the young stag did desire change. He could continue to mock his effort...or try and help him achieve it.
His brows arched high above his mask beneath wavy wisps of brown and gray, a short laugh pushed forth at the others' obvious surprise. It was the first truly sincere reaction he'd seen from Bishop yet, however amusing. A reluctant grin crept onto his lips, his head slowly shaking as it tilted to one side. 'Hopeless.' “If you say 'amends' one more time, I'll change my mind! It's merely... a pass; an opportunity to prove yourself. More than fair, I'd say. It takes a little more than just asking... Prove that you respect her, and everyone she holds dear.”
The stag paused then, his grin fading as his brows knit together yet again. “But to do that... You will need to let go of your arrogance.”
Bishop continued to stare at Darcy, waiting for the stag to call his bluff. It couldn't be this easy. There had to be something wrong. A trick. A deception. The stag couldn't simply be giving him a pass. Passes didn't exist... not between two who had stared each other down. Not for ones who had pegged each other as enemies. And certainly not from someone who had that same look that Henna and the rest of them graced him with. It didn't make any sense.
But he waited, holding his breath, and the stag continued to stand by his decision. One of Bishop's ears turned forward, muscles tense. He felt the question bubble up in his throat again, the incredulity at the entire situation, but choked it down.
Amends. Another word he wielded with specific purpose. Because he was coming here to make things right. Fair. To even out the imbalance he'd caused. To create a situation in which he could either restore Darcy to his former self before the disrespect, or cause himself to be lowered to that level. But this... this was not amends. This was something entirely different. This was... forgiveness.
Mercy.
Bishop swallowed. If he'd been in Darcy's place... No, he wouldn't even think about it. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now, except that he could return to Eraline. He could stand beside her, and talk to her, and dance with her. That's all that mattered.
"More than fair..." he agreed weakly, and that feeling gnawed at him. The feeling that something wasn't right. Wasn't balanced. The feeling that he owed Darcy now. But if owing a stag he resented was the only pitfall to this encounter, he considered himself more than lucky. He pulled himself up straight, ears swiveling forward. "You are very wise, Stag Darcy," he said honestly. "...Thank you."
I know that in some ways, you are wrong... But only for lack of information, not of understanding. I envy that.
He bowed low, turning to make his way back to Eraline... and paused, looking down at the small pile of weeds, and the state of the stag's hind leg.
"Would you... like some help?" he asked tentatively, hoping he wasn't insulting the stag's pride.
It was puzzling, why his conditional forgiveness meant so much to the buck. Darcy couldn't be sure of the honesty behind his relief … but he wanted to believe it. The idea that he could pass judgment and grant allowance to one of Eraline's suitors filled him with a strange kind of satisfied contentment. It was something he'd spent long, lazy afternoons pondering as he sat at Mariposa's grave. Surely the bucks would have fawned over her the way they had her mother … And Lin. He anxiously waited for the day the young doe would introduce him to a charmer seeking her affections – despite her resolve that she would never lose herself to love. Yet it was Eraline who was somehow making the dream a reality for him. Eraline, who was not even his.
The stag pricked his ears and righted his head again at being dubbed 'wise'. It certainly wasn't a word he'd think to use in describing himself. Somehow, even coming from the mouth of a youth who even he could admit he bested in experience, it didn't sit right with him. Surely there was a better word. Besides, Darcy couldn't help but feel a little foolish offering up his forgiveness so easily without knowing more about Bishop. Was he really...'right' for Eraline? Was it even his place to judge? She wasn't his.
So he merely inclined his head in silent acknowledgment as the youth turned to take his leave, sighing at the uncertainty that began to build up and tighten in his chest. 'Don't be ridiculous,' he scolded himself in disgust, yet his eyes began to glaze over as his desires were tossed about within the torrent of decision. He still stared after the buck as he stepped away, stopped, then turned again...and yet he wasn't truly aware he hadn't left yet until the voice jarred him from his thoughts. A startled blink brought back his focus, and he looked a bit dazed as his mind lagged to comprehend what was being said. What...help? His ears twitched back as he followed the others' gaze to the pile of flowers he'd momentarily forgotten.
“Oh...n-” he began to object without really thinking about it, and then the idea abruptly struck him as...promising. Straightening up, his brows flexed in fleeting indecision before a slight grin found itself cast beneath the shadow of his mask. “Actually... There is something you could help me with,” the monarch mused, pretending to pause and deeply consider what he was about to suggest, “I'm in need of some honey. It's quite a miracle worker on wounds. If I had some I wouldn't have to worry about poisoning my patient with the wrong flower, for sure, but... it's a bit of an effort to extract. Nothing I haven't managed many times before, but with this leg here... Well, I understand if you'd rather not bother.”
Bishop's ears pricked as the stag seemed to consider his request. The request itself, however, was not something the buck would've guessed. His jaw clenched. The bastard. How did he go from picking flowers to gathering honey. He could tell from the sparkle in Darcy's eye that he knew exactly what he was asking. At least, the parts that Bishop himself new... The parts that involved bees, and heights.
"Of course, Stag Darcy is obviously in no position to get it himself," he said, only with effort keeping the darkness from his voice. But he wasn't about to retract his offer now. As much as Darcy said he needed to rid himself of his arrogance... it was a matter of pride. "Tell me where, and how."
“Excellent,” he beamed, ignoring the obvious tension in the buck's voice as he responded. He could only imagine what was going through his head right now. Was it anything like what went through his head the first time his brother had suggested such a thing?
---
“Honey... you mean, like...with bees?” “Yeah Dar, like with bees,” he could hear the smirk in the stag's voice and saw his head shake as he moved briskly out in front of him. “But...Y-you know what? I'm okay, it's not that ba-” “Nonsense. You don't want an infection do you?” “I... No... Don't really want to get stung either...” the young buck muttered, glaring at his elder brother's furred heels as he struggled to keep up with the longer strides. His shoulder was killing him. His wounds had began bleeding again from the effort. “Think of it this way, shithead ...the stings will distract you from your little boo-boos there...and they'll distract me from your insufferable whining!”
---
Luckily for Bishop, Darcy was not his brother...but he still found the possibility of resentment amusing.
“Come, then.” The monarch turned towards the forest. His glanced over the trees a moment and he pursed his lips in thought before a spark of recognition glimmered in his eyes. Ah yes...this was the way. Stepping gingerly at first, his gait grew more at ease as the pain in his leg numbed, growing accustomed to the slight bit of weight it was forced to bear. He listened for Bishop's foot steps behind him as he lead the way, satisfied. For several moments he remained silent, letting them make some proper progress before speaking out casually. “So...Where do you come from then? Are you alone here?”
Once Darcy's back was turned, Bishop tossed his head high, teeth bared behind his mask, ears falling back against his skull. He allowed himself this one personal display, and then forced relaxation, following after the stag with careful, measured footfalls, unwilling to allow any of his usual clumsiness into his actions at this point.
...Which, of course, meant that he was mostly likely going to do something incredibly clumsy. It was always during periods of stress, moments when he should prove himself strong and able, that the ground fell away beneath him. Just as long as it didn't lead to a mistake around something as threatening as a beehive... There was nothing prideworthy about bee stings. Swollen lumps of skin...
His heart quickened its pace as he plodded along behind the stag. He expected silence during their journey... Stupid, really. If Bishop had learned anything from this venture, it was that the stag enjoyed hearing himself speak.
"What do you mean," he asked, not wanting to appear rude, but also not wanting to put too much strength into figuring out what Darcy was talking about. "Come from? I am here with my brother, and with Eraline, and with you."
An ear swiveled back to catch the distant response, the other trained ahead of him, attentive to where he was going. Bishop wasn't the only one worried about clumsiness. At least he had four strong, healthy legs to work with, albeit a tad gangly in his youth. At least he was far more graceful when it came to words. The monarch buck didn't seem to possess much in the way of conversation skills. Darcy rolled his eyes, convinced the other male was playing dumb to irritate him.
Perhaps he deserved that much for what he was making him do.
“I mean where were you born... Parents? Is your brother your only family?” the stag persisted, determined to be undaunted by the game.
There was that word again. Family. Bishop felt distinctly wary of it now, and wondered vaguely if Darcy weren't attempting to lure him into some sort of verbal trap. But no... if he'd wanted to hurt him, he could've denied him forgiveness earlier. Bishop watched the stag in front of him, trying to figure out exactly what Darcy had done to warrant this level of resentment. Perhaps... Darcy was just a figurehead for all of them. All of them with that look. And he was the only one that Bishop could've touched, once upon a time, before Eraline explained family to him. No, not explained. Stated. Darcy is family.
And Henna. And Jokerman. And Xetkal (father Xetkal... the only family that Bishop truly understood). And so many others that Bishop hadn't met... Or worse, hadn't realized were family.
He suddenly became self-conscious that he may have been disrespecting a great many members of Eraline's family without knowing it. His fur ruffled, standing up across his shoulders.
"I'm unaware of parents. If family is blood, then yes, my brother is my only family. If family is not blood..." he thought for a moment, considering Eraline's vast network of keepers. He had nothing of that sort. "Then I have my brother, and I have Eraline."
Until you make another mistake... and then she's gone again. Just like that.
He made a full stop at the suddenness of this thought, his breath catching. It was so easy... so easy to make mistakes, when he didn't know what the rules were. Already, he'd come so close. And would this ever end? Would he forever be on the verge of losing her? Shaken, he resumed blindly following Darcy, trying to banish that idea from his mind. That mindset was poison. He'd never win her with those thoughts pricking him.
When the soft rustling of foot-falls abruptly ceased, the stag slowed his own steps, tilting his head and glancing curiously over his shoulder. Bishop had stopped. Darcy was still mulling the youth's words over in his head as he gazed at him, noting the vexed, almost fearful look on his face. It was funny...he didn't even think to question it, sure he had mirrored the same look many times before when he often allowed his thoughts to take over. Still, the monarch's eyes softened at the sight. What inner turmoil was this buck going through?
No parents? No family?
Well...that explained a lot.
The stag finally came to a stop just in time to watch Bishop snap out of his fog and move quickly to catch up again. Hm...should he push it? Pry a little more? He hesitated, then began moving forward again, deciding to to least offer the buck the release of movement. “You two raised yourselves then?” he squeezed in one last question, deciding against asking for any more 'personal' details. For some reason, the thought brought a smile to his face. He had had a mother – albeit a fairly useless one – and some strange semblance of a family once though they were hardly a 'unit'. Not really knowing what a 'normal' family was meant to be like was one thing Darcy could sympathize with. He had tried many times to view his friends in this way. Even tried his hand at starting his own, once or twice... Eraline had told him she was his family, and yet...Darcy didn't see it this way. He would never tell her this of course, but it didn't quite feel right. Did Bishop feel the same?
Blinking away the thoughts, he realized his surroundings and his feet found a familiar trail. Yes, it was somewhere around here, he was certain. “Ah...here we go!” Ducking beneath a low hanging branch, Darcy ripped his antlers through the leaves as they caught before striding up to an old, hollowed tree trunk. It leaned precariously against a neighboring tree by what seemed like only thick strips of dead, splintered bark. His ears pricked attentively as he carefully approached it, listening for the tell-tale signs he'd detected before. A pleasant and busy 'hum' reassured him this was the same tree as before – well, that and the dozens of flying insects flitting about the area, entering and exiting the hive hidden just beneath the surface. “Came across this baby the other day. Lucky find... It will make things much easier, however more unfortunate for the bees. Now, the trick is to get them sleepy first, and for that...we need fire.” Grinning, he turned to rest his expectant eyes on Bishop. “This is where speed comes in handy...a skill that I unfortunately lack at the moment. You will need to borrow a flame. From a candle upon someone's antlers is your best bet, though such a deer may take some time to find. Keep it burning and bring it back here."
He paused to lift a questioning eyebrow. “Do you think you're up for that?”
Bishop's brows knitted a little at that final question. Of course they raised themselves. He'd never thought anything of it. When he and his brother were fawns, they would gallivant through the forest with reckless abandon, and Bishop pitied the ones tied to adult deer. Adults, who were boring, and demanding. Adults, who thought that skipping through the flowers made for good play time, when Rook and Bishop were busy twisting ankles and trying not to drown. Real fun.
"We..." he started, but was cut off by Darcy's pleased exclamation. He let out a breath of relief, glad that this line of questioning was finished. He didn't know what purpose it served, and bringing up thoughts of family just reminded him that he knew very little about the subject.
Bishop hung back as Darcy approached the tree trunk, not too keen on getting close before his presence was required. His eyes darkened as Darcy continued to speak. Lucky find. He looked on in confusion at the mention sleep, and fire. ...How was fire supposed to make them sleepy? Fire usually made things faster, and angrier. Keeping his skepticism to himself, Bishop nodded. He knew two deer that held fire... neither of which he actually wanted to approach. Henna, or the demon Obake. He would feel absolutely no shame at stealing fire from Obake (did demons sleep?), but he knew the logical first choice was Henna.
"I'll be back soon," he said, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt, and he took off into the forest.
Darcy grinned as Bishop turned and sauntered off, gradually disappearing behind the cover of trees. He listened intently to the softening rustles of feet churning the forest floor until they faded into the hum of bees in his ears. Hm.
He wasn't at all convinced the buck would be coming back.
The brief look of doubt he'd seen in Bishop's eye at the mention of fire had been amusing. What did he think the stag had planned? That thought – as well as the thought that he might not return – was very entertaining for Darcy. Worth being stood up? Probably, though it certainly wouldn't do the buck any favors. As cynical as he felt compelled to be on the matter and as prepared as he was for disappointment, he had a feeling Bishop wouldn't let him down. Shaking his head, his eyes tore from the path to the flitting form of a bee whizzing by his head. Sidestepping, Darcy allowed his eyes to follow the insect back to the tree in question where it disappeared amongst the crowd. Well, might as well get things ready, just in case. He proceeded to wander about the area in search of dry materials, gathering them up and piling them beneath the rotting log. The bees were getting restless, growing irritated by his nosy presence. More and more crawled from the hive, taking flight to buzz around his head. The stag moved slowly and defensively around them.
“- then you haul ass squirt. Once one of them stings ya – and that's a given – they'll all want a piece.” “You're crazy...”
Deep, sincere laughter. “Yup!” “Well I'm not! I'm not doing th-” “To hell you aren't! Come on, get ready. One, two- ... HA! You should see the look on your face. Like I would really stand here and open a bee hive! That's rich.”
The monarch snorted softly, shaking his head as a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He gingerly twitched his ear as a buzzing bee tried to settle upon it, tucking them against his head before retreating to find more pine needles. Mmm, some mushrooms maybe... It might be a long wait.
Bishop was not lost... However, he certainly didn't recognize this part of the forest as well as he did others, and the burning scent of the candle made it difficult for him to pick up on other scents in the forest. Furthermore, the hot smoke made his eyes water, and scalded his maskless face. He contemplated setting it down, getting his bearings, but rejected the idea, imagining scenes of burning trees and fleeing woodland creatures... And everyone would know it was his fault, although he could potentially pin it on Darcy, if the stag were close enough. And if the stag weren't close enough, well... Perhaps he would simply die in the fire.
A small, high-pitched whirring caught his attention, and he looked to the side just in time to see a drunken, fat little bee floating up from a crimson flower. The odds of this being a member of that specific hive... But he followed it anyway, picking his way through the flowers and tangled vines, careful not to let the flame touch any leaves or bark as he squeezed his way through.
His spirits leapt when he caught sight of the hollow trunk, leaning haphazardly against a nearby tree, and he picked his way around it at a distance, scanning the area for signs of Darcy.
“Anh! Gwate wehk.” The stag emerged from somewhere behind the waiting youth, a large chunk of mushroom held firmly between his lips. He eyed the candle in Bishop's own mouth, eyebrows arched in pleasant surprise to see a healthy flame still flickering at the end. To see Bishop at all! His quick return was quite impressive. The buck had focus - a valuable quality when molded to the right causes. The fact that he was maskless now also did not escape his notice, and he let his eyes roam briefly over his face, noting what features he could from behind the over of the candle.
...Hm.
Stepping past him, he dropped the dried fungus next to the ready pile of twigs and leaves before turning and nodding his head, signaling Bishop to set the candle down between them. He was grateful for the help no doubt but wasn't about to kiss him to retrieve it! “Alright... plan of action. The smoke will make them sluggish and disoriented, allowing safe access into the combs. You don't have to worry about that part, though.”
Darcy stooped the carefully take the wax cylinder in his teeth, stepping over to his miniature pyre to tentatively set it ablaze. Setting the candle back down in the dirt, he took a moment more to blow air into the smoking debris, nurturing the tiny flame. “What I need you to do is keep the smoke going. Keep adding dried leaves and pine needles...just be careful not to smother the thing – or let it get out of control. We don't want these babies lucid.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Bishop, briefly gauging his reaction. Convinced he would be compliant the stag nodded, then with a shake and bow of his head, removed his mask. The ratty wooden carving fell away to land haphazardly in the nearby ferns, revealing an angular face etched with deep, pink scars. From a distance he appeared youthful, but up close the lines of premature weathering were easily noticed.
The monarch approached the pile of dried materials he'd raked together and began adding them to the top of the flame – which for now was kept separated by a sturdy yet thin cage of sticks – but not before setting the mushroom right on top. He wasn't sure about it, but it would no doubt help to 'sweeten' the deal, right? Almost immediately, thick gray smoke began to rise. “Stand back,” he warned the buck, shifting away a little himself. The air began to fill with the bitter scent of burning, the calming scent of pine...and the ever present sweetness of the honey that lay just below the crumbling bark. He closed his eyes and inhaled it readily, ignoring the choking sensation it caused at the back of his throat. The hum of the bees began to grow louder...more urgent. Something was wrong, but they were slow to realize what. Some of the braver – or perhaps more timid- members took to the air and spun wildly overhead, searching for a source of their distress. “Give it a minute,” the monarch muttered to himself, watching them carefully. Slowly but surely the buzzing insects began to drop to the ground or disperse and the humming within the tree quieted again. Eventually he nodded to himself, his eyes briefly meeting the buck's before he tip-toed into the war zone. Fuzzy bodies crawled along the ground at his feet, sleepy and disoriented. They continued to pour from the crevices of the tree, dropping or lazily taking to the air to fly in dizzying circles. One or two dived at him, but were easily avoided. “Keep your wits about you... Some are more persistent than others.”
Reaching the side of the tree, the stag leaned in and gingerly began working at the crumbling bark, tearing it away in chunks with his teeth.
Bishop's ears perked, not only from the stag's sudden presence, but also from what sounded like... a compliment? It was difficult to tell, as his voice was obscured by... a mushroom. Again, Bishop had the distinct feeling that he was being toyed with. So they were going to make the bees sleepy with fire, and then feed them? Or were the bees repelled by mushrooms? He raised a dark brow, and immediately flattened it again, remembering that he'd left his mask in the roots of the tree. It would've been impossible to carry the candle with it, but this made him feel exposed.
He set the candle down where Darcy motioned, stepped back to wipe his dark face on one foreleg, ridding it of the smokey grime and sweat that had gathered. Once that was finished, and his vision fully restored, he watched carefully, listening to the stag's explanation. That sounded far less foolish than anything he'd previously mentioned. And especially less foolish after the stag gave him yet another piece of news: that he wouldn't be breaking into the hive himself. Bishop felt a wave of relief, and then resentment. Did Darcy not trust him with that portion of the gathering?
He paused when Darcy dropped his own mask. Attempting not to stare, as if he were looking upon something illicit, he watched the stag's movements. When the bees began to drop, drugged by the curling smoke, he looked upon the fire with new respect.
The fire was important.
So this was a test, then. A dangerous one, from the sound of it. Bishop knew nothing of fires, or of bees. But he knew that he could replicate what Darcy did to make the fire bloom into smoke. As Darcy began tearing into the ancient wood, Bishop made his way back to tend the fire, memorizing the appearance of the flame. He had to keep it there. His eyes rested for a moment on the mushroom. Darcy had not explained the purpose of that, but he was beginning to feel a new respect for the old stag, and decided to trust his judgement.
As he was getting settled, a drunken bee curled down from the heavens, landing with a plop on the tip of his nose. He watched it for a moment as it fought to cling to black fur, before shaking it off onto the ground to crawl around with its brethren. There were hundreds of them, at least… He’d never seen anything like it. So, despite the ache he knew he’d have in his neck, he remained standing, stooping over the fire to watch the flame.
(Definitely letting you take the lead on unfolding events here XD I only know slightly more than Bishop does, haha~)
[ Apologies for taking all day ._. Was super ADD and had to wait for the 'I'm too damn tired to concentrate on more than one thing' feeling to set in XD' Some minor powerplaying in this one, I hope it's ok. Wanted to speed things along since I'm a slowpoke.]
The entire tree trembled. He could feel the vibrations through the bark as it was stripped away. Hundreds- perhaps thousands of bees were pressed together inside, their little bodies trembling with rage as bit by bit sunlight penetrated their sacred grotto, lighting up their glossy wings. The sleepy guards were failing to signal for danger, leaving those inside agitated and confused as the smoke crept in through the cracks. They began to scatter, losing focus, and slowly the golden honey combs became visible beneath them. Unfortunately, the bark was becoming more stubborn to loosen.
'Ouch!' A sudden sting on his cheek made him pull back. Darcy huffed and gave his head a good shake to clear away the bees that had crawled onto his face. His eyes began to water, but a few rapid blinks cleared them again. “More smoke,” he ordered, bowing his head and coughing to clear his lungs before continuing to work away at the dead tree. Finally a good strip came loose, and as he jerked it away the the tree rocked uneasily, sending a stream of little insect bodies pouring out into the ground and into the air. Darcy ducked and stepped back, giving them time to fly into the new blackened billows of smoke. Squinting through it, he watched Bishop, amused that the buck was complying so easily...and with some enthusiasm at that? His expression softened at the thought, his lips upturning slightly. The teen might have caught him staring as he lost himself in thought for a few moments, then with with a jerk of his head he was back to work again.
It was difficult, clearing a space large enough to reach into. A deer with a muzzle might have had an easier time of it, but he managed eventually. Gently blowing away the light bodies of lingering bees he gingerly reached in and dug into the honeycomb, snapping off a chunk. His teeth broke through the wax coating and thick golden liquid filled his mouth and dripped down his chin as he pulled back. Snorting air in attempts to clear the wanting bees he quickly made his way over to Bishop, setting the comb in his overturned mask before back for more. The smoke was burning his eyes and filling his lungs, making him choke. Eh, perhaps they'd overdone it a bit. He could barely see what he was doing when he reached in once more, digging around for another good sized piece to bite off. Agh! Another sting on the chin made him jump just as he tore away at more honey. Jerking back, he bumped the tree trunk, violently rocking it.
'Aw, shit.
With a loud, dry snap its hold on the tree beside it gave way and it started falling. “Watch out!” he called as he himself leapt away. Honey-slicked teeth clenched and a breath was sucked in his his injured leg was awkwardly jarred. With a resounding crack the hollowed log hit the ground and snapped apart at the middle. A feverish roar filled the air as a new torrent of bees rose up, alerted out of the depths of the hive. They appeared a bit more... lucid than their hive-mates. The stag coughed and shrank back, startled and thinking fast. Well, 'this' was new... Should he dare another go? The comb had split and a large, loose piece taunted him now. Yet pain was everywhere; from the warm tingling of fresh stings to the throbbing in his leg and ribs as his sides heaved for fresh air. 'Hmm.' “Alright, time to make a run for it I think!” he rasped, limping around to where Bishop stood, “I'll get the fire. Race in there and get that loose piece of comb. Just be quick about it and stay in the smoke cover!” The monarch spoke with authority and agitation more out of urgency then anything else. Spinning himself around he backed up to the fire and dug at it with his hind legs, clearing the billowing debris from the top and kicking dirt onto the flames. He then quickly grabbed the red ties of his mask in the corner of his mouth before gingerly pressing the wax of the idle candle between his lips. Sure Bishop would be following – or perhaps he'd taken his advice to heart and had already run ahead – Darcy stumbled blindly away from the buzzing, smoking chaos to seek a safer part of the forest.
(I know how that goes XD And this is peachy~ Gave me more than enough wiggle room. Bishop wasn't about to go diving off into the forest or anything, lmfao.)
Bishop was perfectly fine with his job, softly blowing on the flame, sticking in a tiny twig or two, until Darcy's first exclamation hit the air. More smoke. He could create more fire. More fire meant more smoke, right? He picked up a mouthful of fresh green leaves, dropping them onto the flame. It sputtered for a moment, gasping for air between the suffocating greenery, and then caught hold. Bishop smiled, pleased with himself... until the fire exploded into a smokey column. He coughed, lowering himself onto his knees to get below the suffocating cloud. A few bees found their way onto his legs, but he ignored them. They seemed content to pretend he was a piece of the ground.
The mushroom at the top of the stack had begun to curl, warping in on itself as its juices dried up. Bishop watched it, his nose inches from its weathered surface, imagining it to be some old crone's skin, flayed of fur, aging rapidly. It made his stomach turn. He looked up to see Darcy dropping a thick slab of... that definitely wasn't honey. It was glowing. He squinted at it, wondering if that's where all honey came from. If bee hives all glowed on the inside. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head, and returned his attention to the fire. It was... beautiful. The flame. He hadn't noticed before. He bent down close to it, his throat clenching to stave off the smoke, and coughed hard into the fire. The more fragile flames nearest him sputtered out immediately. Bishop gasped, panicked, and threw more leaves onto the fire. Too many leaves. Smoke billowed out from the small blaze, making the air around him dark.
There was a crack from the other side of the smokestack, but he couldn't see the cause. He could only see the fire jumping before his nose, and the great darkness that surrounded him. He was part of it. Part of this darkness, and this fire. When he looked back at himself, at the bees crawling around him, he could see where his orange patches stood out vibrantly against the darkness, wavering gently like the flutter of wings. He was part of the bees, too. So then, was Darcy stealing his honey? He knitted his brow, confused by this.
Darcy's voice popped him out of his musings, and he scrambled to his legs, which felt strong and powerful beneath him. He could run a mile. He could fly. And if he was pulling a honeycomb from his own hive, it certainly wasn't stealing, right? He jumped across the small flame, landing inches away from where the comb stuck out of the hive. He ripped it free, feeling sharp pinpricks of fire on his neck and back. He was part of the fire. Pain was natural. Pain had always been natural.
With his prize dripping from his lips, he bounded off into the forest, hooves crackling against leaves. The honey was his, so he would do with it as he pleased. And he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. Without a second glance back, he took off through the forest in search of Eraline.
(Read a lot of discussion about whether or not you can smoke mushrooms. Thought about how the low heat would probably maintain the druggy effects. Realized that they're in a MAGICAL FOREST so whatever. Screw reason XD)
[LOLOLOLOL oh gosh. GO BISHOP GO! Thieving bastard.]]
The buzzing had faded. Fresh air filled his heaving lungs, though the burning persisted. His stinging, watering eyes were useless in navigation, so he stumbled on blindly, uncertain of where he was once he'd gotten there. It didn't matter.
Where was Bishop?
Pressing his eyelids tightly together to clear his lenses he squinted out into the forest, pivoting in search of the buck's flashy colors against the greenery. He was hard to miss, even when you could barely see... so where was he? Hoof beats drew his ears around and his head twisted to follow. Ah! There he was! Sighing inwardly, Darcy ducked to drop what he held then lifted his head again to call out to the teen, though surely he saw him. Wait...why was he headed in that direction? “Hey...Bishop!...HEY!”
The buck charged ahead, swiftly disappearing into the distance, the large slab of honey still clenched in his teeth. Darcy gritted his. What did he think he was doing? Surely he'd heard him! Huffing and pinning his ears, he began to give chase, though he barely got anywhere before sliding to a stop. There was no point... He'd never be able to catch him.
That, and the world around him was beginning to...tilt?
The stag stumbled to the side, his scabbed shoulder pressing heavily against the bark of a nearby tree for balance. Yes, the ground beneath his hooves was indeed beginning to move, threatening to send him stumbling down hill...perhaps off the very face off the earth. “Okay, okay,” he muttered, closing his eyes against the assault and groaning. 'Little shithead...' He should have known better than to-... His bitterness was cut short. A cough lurched from his throat, but it wasn't just that, it was...laughter? This was...funny? Yes...yes it was funny. Hilarious in fact! The stag's body shook as laughter continued to leap out of him, sputtering at first before his lungs cleared and allowed the deep, clear sound of it rise up and fill the quiet forest with his wry amusement. Slowly but surely he slid down the side of the tree, allowing his tired legs and spinning head a rest. Leaning his head to one side he eyed the flickering candle a distance away where he set it, his tongue snaking out to lick at the bit of sticky sweetness left drying on his chin.
Well that was...interesting.
(Brilliant XD That was hella fun. I'd never really read any of your posts, so I had no idea you were such a good writer~ *shame* I hope I have an excuse to bring Bish back by here at some point~)
I'm sorry it took so long. I didn't realize you were waiting for the RP to finish before playing Bishop ._. The bee thing was just side idea for fun really -squeak- But...thank you ^^ It was entertaining. I already love their quirky relationship haha. HERE'S AN EXCUSE, BRING HIS HONEY BACK!
Aw pfft, it didn't take long at all! I could've played him XD But I loved the bee thing, and I wanted to see what came of it... and certainly wasn't disappointed. Now he can reunite with Eraline in a more... interesting way, haha. See, if I'd been playing him all along, their reunion would've been much less psychedelic, yes?
I DUNNO IF THERE'S GONNA BE ANY HONEY LEFT WHEN THEY'RE DONE WITH IT.
"Good evening, Stag Darcy," Bishop said politely, bowing more times than necessary as the stag raced up to him. He pretended not to see the fire in the stag's eyes, or the threatening way he was holding himself. Pretended that he hadn't stolen anything from the older stag. Perhaps this was all just how Darcy acted around him now. Perhaps he'd forgotten. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"
Pfft, I never know how to balance in-forest and forum RPing. Feel free to not answer that, since they seem to be at least a little past it now XD;; Do whatever you like.
Shaku:
The stag's swift, domineering approach was abruptly cut short by the buck's greeting. It was...unexpected, to say the least. His expression, carefully fashioned into one of irritability, faltered in momentary bewilderment. Staring Bishop down, he quickly caught on and recovered soon after with a snort. “Cute,” he answered simply, his tone caustic. Of course, he wasn't really angry. Beneath the dark shadow of his mask the corner of his mouth lifted in the tiniest way as he slowly approached then passed the younger male, his eyes moving over him in a playfully critical way. “This just means you still owe me,” he cooed, stepping gingerly into the water. He flashed Bishop a knowing grin before dipping his head to drink.
Ginger:
Hey! :3
I love Jergens, I'm so glad they finally met. Was meaning to hunt him down sometime and see how he and D got along. Wasn't expecting him to approach! He looks quite stunning in the monarch pelt ;D haha. I'm down with an organization...Amelia of course being our head -snort-
Eeee thank you so much! 8'D I had stalked ol' Darcy for a while on his bio but I'mreallyshywhenitcomestotrackssometimesandlawlwut. And I apologize for him acting kinda clunky. My hot-keys don't work 8| Bloody annoying.
But yesss~ It's very rare that he won't get along swimmingly with others most of the time c':
If that's the case, I should probably save this spell-data |D
Now it was Bishop's turn to be surprised. He definitely hadn't forgotten, but... he didn't seem incredibly torn up about it, either. Bishop couldn't say the same for himself. Darcy's words nicked a nerve. He did still owe him. He was planning on repaying that debt in some small, relatively unnoticed way, but now it was out in the open again. He snorted softly, deciding to put it from his mind for now. There was nothing he could do in this moment. He certainly wasn't going to go galloping off to some beehive in the dead of night, even now that he carried smoke in his antlers. A thought occurred to him, and he smiled beneath his mask.
"Oh? I thought we made a trade. You kept the candle, so I took some honey. Really, you got the best half, since the candle means you can get honey any time you want now. And to be honest, that honey didn't even last very long..." He bit his tongue, unable to resist the last bit, but regretting it as soon as it left his mouth. No, it was fine. That could mean anything. The fact that he was subtly rubbing Eraline's attention in the older stag's face could be easily concealed.
Darcy's ears swiveled back as he drank, attentive to the buck's words. He nearly choked on the liquid as laughter bubbled at the back of his throat. Surely he wasn't serious! Lifting his antlered head he turned it to the side as he licked his lips, amusement still dancing in his gaze. That is, until Bishop got to the last bit. The muscles around the stag's eyes tightened, once again sharpening his pointed stare. Darcy let the silence fall and settle between them before carefully choosing his words. “I don't remember a trade being part of the agreement. I merely picked up what you forgot in your...haste. I have no use for that, now...though I'm sure Miss Henna will be wanting it back?”
Turning to face the buck fully now he cocked a brow to emphasis his question. He couldn't help but look a bit smug. It was juvenile perhaps, but the monarch youth was back to being a punk again. Disappointing, really. He'd thought their little honey gathering adventure had gone well up until the shit's little stunt. Had he been wrong? Had no progress really been made? “Yes, I noticed," he mused drly. He spent enough time in the presence of the golden doe to take note of the empty cup of wax upon her tine. The stag paused to let the thought sink in before continuing. "Like I noticed the dried honey in Eraline's fur. You should leave being clever to the more observant, kid.”
Shaking his head he tore his eyes away and stepped from the water, slowly climbing the bank.
Bishop couldn't help but smile a little at getting a rise out of the older stag, although it set off little warning bells in his head. Still, he wasn't being disrespectful. Just teasing, toying with Darcy. There was no rule against that, was there? It was such a sweet, fresh night, and the darkness made him bold. Now that he didn't have the loss of Eraline weighing over him, he felt light.
"Ah, my mistake," he said, bowing low to show submission, his ears falling back. It didn't go unnoticed that Darcy called on Henna by name, despite Bishop specifically avoiding naming her the owner. It wasn't too remarkable, but... if Darcy knew that Henna was missing her candle, why didn't he take it to her himself? Curious. "I'll try to make it up to you, then. But you can still keep the candle. I found her some new ones."
His face continued to light up a the next bit, "I never said I shared it with Eraline... See, you are more observant than you think! I find myself repeatedly impressed by you, Stag Darcy. My apologies, though, if there was. I thought I got it all out."
"Well aren't you a charmer... I do hope we meet again Darcy, this encounter was so very... refreshing. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I."
She flicks her tail casually, placing her lips on his jaw, and begins to walk passed him slowly.
I think I should track this.
Darcy has been too freaking cute with Idelle. It is killing me.
Edit,
It is probably a good thing my other computer's connection is being a pain. Otherwise Gustiro would still be in and probably not let Darcy have that much interaction. XD
|||||||||| Physical
Herbs. What a strange name.
Bishop watched the emotions gather and change across the older stag's weathered face. I've taken on things nearly twice your size. If scars could speak... Bishop didn't question this piece of information, its truth or its wisdom... because what could someone possibly gain by fighting something twice their size? No, he filed it away for later.
There was a phrase in there, however, that stuck. Boyish displays of impudence. Again, Bishop had the feeling that he wasn't quite understanding something. That some valuable piece of information lay just outside his grasp. He compared himself to Mori... Wise, calm... And then, remembered himself when Darcy had ordered him to stop. Beside the playground, as he goaded Graph into a spar. It was fun, and useful, but certainly not something a wise old stag would do. He felt his chest squeeze, and that familiar resentment rose up again.
When Darcy mentioned weakness, mentioned loss, Bishop looked him over with honest consideration. Thankfully, the yes on the tip of his tongue never had a chance to fall. And again, he felt the resentment rise. Somehow, Darcy believed himself to be better than him. Despite strength and weakness. Despite stature. It was that same look everyone gave him. Henna. Jokerman. Even Mori's gentle eyes didn't regard him as a threat. Everyone saw him as this impudent boy. This thing wielding words.
Everyone except Eraline.
And for her, he held his tongue.
"I know nothing of herbs," he stated simply, looking down at the pile of weeds. He fought down the swell in his chest, once again searching for a solution. He looked back up at the stag, resigned, submissive. "But I learn quickly."
Bishop: Did any of it get
Did any of it get through? Hard to tell, really. Several different emotions seemed to ripple through the buck's eyes as he spoke, and most of his emotions were concealed behind his mask... but for the most part he remained reasonably calm. 'Heh. Darcy had to hand it to him...he was strong. Even in his own youth, the monarch had not stood quite so proud, nor had the grace of such stoicism. Yet, admirable as these qualities would seem – not doubt to sweet Eraline herself – Darcy felt skeptical of the coldness of it. Why was someone so young so hardened? Memories began to eat at him, unpleasant images of his past selves racing through his mind. He couldn't dwell on them.
Bishop hadn't earned any such sympathy yet.
“Oh, no? Hm...well that's unlucky,” the stag murmured, more to himself than to the resigned youth. What game was he playing at now? After all he'd said, the bold one chose to address herbs? Another admirable trait. Perhaps Bishop was not such a lost cause after all, and Eraline's tastes had earned some credit. Maybe.
“Apparently I don't,” he chuckled once again, shaking his head at the persistent confusion that kept him guessing. Herla's directions and his earlier 'studying' of the plant were completely failing him now. Well, no, this flower certainly wasn't right, but those two... Hm. Despite his attempts at focusing, Bishop's presence weighed far too heavily on him to concentrate on the task. Clearly the boy wasn't going to make this easy on himself... Well, either of them, really. So what now? He could toy with his head a bit more for sure, yet the stag remembered who this was all for and gazed back up at the youth with an impatient sigh.
“Tell me then... Straight, because I really don't appreciate bullshit. What are your intentions here? What do you intend to gain from me? More importantly, from Eraline?” His amber eyes hardened again, sincere in their wary curiosity. Eraline, yes...she was what was most important here...
[Last reply for tonight. Will pick up tomorrow :3 Night!]
(G'night! X3) Bishop was
Bishop was thrown a little off-kilter by the strange way Stag Darcy regarded the discussion of herbs. His voice turned practically flippant... Which was exactly why Bishop had chosen to pursue that topic. If Darcy was going to grant him what he wanted... needed... he was going to need more of that flippancy. He was going to need to wear down the stag's edge and find his way to the older one's core.
His ears perked slightly at the stag's chuckle, but the news was poor. If Stag Darcy knew nothing of herbs, he had nothing to teach him. A dead end. And once again, they were thrust back onto a sore topic, and once again, his voice turned sharp. Bishop's ears returned to their backwards, flat position, and his head fell an inch. Submissive.
"My intentions are what I said before. I disrespected Eraline's family. You. I wish to make amends." His heart beat faster with the half-truth. He didn't know if Stag Darcy would grant him the amends if he knew what it was for. If he knew he couldn't return to Eraline without it. He could still feel the greed emanating from the other deer. It was the same greed he felt pulsing in his own veins. The same greed he'd first reacted to... That had caused him to end up here, without her. "And... from Eraline..." he paused, thinking this over. He hadn't thought about why he wanted the doe... Simply that he did. He'd put thought into what he could give her. What he could provide. How he could win her. But... what he wanted from her? He wasn't sure. "I don't know," he finally answered, voice soft. He wanted her warmth, and her voice. He wanted the way she always got herself involved in bad situations, because she cared so much... And how sometimes she got this spark in her eye, and everyone knew that she was about to do exactly what they'd warned against. He wanted the way she coaxed him into dancing. How she looked so wonderful laughing, even though he knew he looked stupid, he couldn't stop.
Bishop smiled beneath his mask for a moment, but when he looked up, his eyes were hard. Focused.
"I want her... And for her, I need to undo my disrespect. At that time, I didn't know you were Eraline's family. I thought-" he cut himself off, ears flattening against his skull. He tried again, "If I had known that Stag Darcy was a member of Eraline's family, I would not have acted in such a way. I wish to make amends. If it is not a matter of honor... I need to know what it is. I need to fix it."
"So you are the one that my
"Your efforts are insignificant! I carry you to your deaths!"
(consider it retired!)
Apparently the blunt approach
He didn't get one.
The uncertainty he could forgive. Young love, heh... He was not so old to forget those agonizing adventures either. Forgivable or not though, he wasn't willing to accept this as a legitimate stand. Boys and their hormones needed to be kept in check, and Darcy couldn't help but narrow his eyes at Bishop's possessive declaration.
He wanted the doe but he didn't know why? This was a recipe for trouble if Darcy had ever heard one. The rest of what he had to say was mildly amusing. So the buck had thought him competition? The monarch wasn't sure if he should be flattered by the misunderstanding or creeped out. Surely he didn't appear that way with the young doe... No, surely not.
“I am plenty old enough to be her father, boy,” he chastised dryly, not particularly amused by admitting it but finding it an oversight nonetheless, “What drew you to that conclusion is beyond me. Using that head of yours for something other than decoration would be a wise start...”
Despite the obvious mocking, his dark brows lifted, the intensity of his once irritable gaze lightening with a more questioning stare. Turning away from the patch of sunlight he approached the buck, gingerly applying weight to his injured leg until he stood only a couple feet in front of him. The difference in size between them was much more noticeable now, however unimpressive. Some things would never change.
Darcy regarded Bishop critically now. “I was wrong... this is a matter of honor, though not between the two of us. Eraline is nobody's possession. She is not an object to be won or coveted, and her wishes – no matter how against your own desires they may be - are to be respected... This pride of yours? It has no business around her, do you understand?”
He sighed, his ears falling back a bit as his eyes wandered over the others' mask.
“As...completely insincere as you're coming off right now though... I guess I could give you something for a step in the right direction. She admires you... The Gods only know why, but for that I will overlook the past. I don't give my respect to just anyone though...if that's truly what you seek, you'll have to earn it."
Bishop looked on, still
The admission of age meant nothing to him. If Stag Darcy was old enough to be Eraline's father... what of it? Did that mean something? He pushed mentally past it, as well as the criticism. Focus. Find a weak point. There had to be something. Bishop's eyes widened at the stag's sudden change in expression, searching for the cause. He listened intently as the stag attempted to explain... But the young buck already knew that. Already knew about Eraline's choice. Her rights.
"I respect Eraline," he said with surety. It was Eraline's family... there were so many... Those were the ones he had trouble keeping track of. Trouble respecting. Especially ones who seemed guilty of the same sins they were accusing others of possessing. Bishop consciously relaxed his jaw to keep the muscle from clenching.
Focus.
Insincere...?!
Focus.
So focused was he that he almost missed the declaration. The phrase that slipped so easily past the stag's lips, as if it were nothing at all. A whisper the wind might have carried away, if Bishop had been paying less attention.
I will overlook the past.
Bishop's knees wobbled, and he stared at the stag, mind grabbing at responses, and coming up with none.
"That is... you are..." he shook his head, drawing himself up, but failing to wipe the stunned confusion from his face. "You are granting me... amends?"
A soft snort was forced from
His brows arched high above his mask beneath wavy wisps of brown and gray, a short laugh pushed forth at the others' obvious surprise. It was the first truly sincere reaction he'd seen from Bishop yet, however amusing. A reluctant grin crept onto his lips, his head slowly shaking as it tilted to one side.
'Hopeless.'
“If you say 'amends' one more time, I'll change my mind! It's merely... a pass; an opportunity to prove yourself. More than fair, I'd say. It takes a little more than just asking... Prove that you respect her, and everyone she holds dear.”
The stag paused then, his grin fading as his brows knit together yet again.
“But to do that... You will need to let go of your arrogance.”
Bishop continued to stare at
But he waited, holding his breath, and the stag continued to stand by his decision. One of Bishop's ears turned forward, muscles tense. He felt the question bubble up in his throat again, the incredulity at the entire situation, but choked it down.
Amends. Another word he wielded with specific purpose. Because he was coming here to make things right. Fair. To even out the imbalance he'd caused. To create a situation in which he could either restore Darcy to his former self before the disrespect, or cause himself to be lowered to that level. But this... this was not amends. This was something entirely different. This was... forgiveness.
Mercy.
Bishop swallowed. If he'd been in Darcy's place... No, he wouldn't even think about it. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now, except that he could return to Eraline. He could stand beside her, and talk to her, and dance with her. That's all that mattered.
"More than fair..." he agreed weakly, and that feeling gnawed at him. The feeling that something wasn't right. Wasn't balanced. The feeling that he owed Darcy now. But if owing a stag he resented was the only pitfall to this encounter, he considered himself more than lucky. He pulled himself up straight, ears swiveling forward. "You are very wise, Stag Darcy," he said honestly. "...Thank you."
I know that in some ways, you are wrong... But only for lack of information, not of understanding. I envy that.
He bowed low, turning to make his way back to Eraline... and paused, looking down at the small pile of weeds, and the state of the stag's hind leg.
"Would you... like some help?" he asked tentatively, hoping he wasn't insulting the stag's pride.
It was puzzling, why his
The stag pricked his ears and righted his head again at being dubbed 'wise'. It certainly wasn't a word he'd think to use in describing himself. Somehow, even coming from the mouth of a youth who even he could admit he bested in experience, it didn't sit right with him. Surely there was a better word. Besides, Darcy couldn't help but feel a little foolish offering up his forgiveness so easily without knowing more about Bishop. Was he really...'right' for Eraline? Was it even his place to judge? She wasn't his.
So he merely inclined his head in silent acknowledgment as the youth turned to take his leave, sighing at the uncertainty that began to build up and tighten in his chest. 'Don't be ridiculous,' he scolded himself in disgust, yet his eyes began to glaze over as his desires were tossed about within the torrent of decision. He still stared after the buck as he stepped away, stopped, then turned again...and yet he wasn't truly aware he hadn't left yet until the voice jarred him from his thoughts. A startled blink brought back his focus, and he looked a bit dazed as his mind lagged to comprehend what was being said. What...help? His ears twitched back as he followed the others' gaze to the pile of flowers he'd momentarily forgotten.
“Oh...n-” he began to object without really thinking about it, and then the idea abruptly struck him as...promising. Straightening up, his brows flexed in fleeting indecision before a slight grin found itself cast beneath the shadow of his mask.
“Actually... There is something you could help me with,” the monarch mused, pretending to pause and deeply consider what he was about to suggest, “I'm in need of some honey. It's quite a miracle worker on wounds. If I had some I wouldn't have to worry about poisoning my patient with the wrong flower, for sure, but... it's a bit of an effort to extract. Nothing I haven't managed many times before, but with this leg here... Well, I understand if you'd rather not bother.”
(SHORT REPLY IS
Bishop's ears pricked as the stag seemed to consider his request. The request itself, however, was not something the buck would've guessed. His jaw clenched. The bastard. How did he go from picking flowers to gathering honey. He could tell from the sparkle in Darcy's eye that he knew exactly what he was asking. At least, the parts that Bishop himself new... The parts that involved bees, and heights.
"Of course, Stag Darcy is obviously in no position to get it himself," he said, only with effort keeping the darkness from his voice. But he wasn't about to retract his offer now. As much as Darcy said he needed to rid himself of his arrogance... it was a matter of pride. "Tell me where, and how."
“Excellent,” he beamed,
---
“Honey... you mean, like...with bees?”
“Yeah Dar, like with bees,” he could hear the smirk in the stag's voice and saw his head shake as he moved briskly out in front of him.
“But...Y-you know what? I'm okay, it's not that ba-”
“Nonsense. You don't want an infection do you?”
“I... No... Don't really want to get stung either...” the young buck muttered, glaring at his elder brother's furred heels as he struggled to keep up with the longer strides. His shoulder was killing him. His wounds had began bleeding again from the effort.
“Think of it this way, shithead ...the stings will distract you from your little boo-boos there...and they'll distract me from your insufferable whining!”
---
Luckily for Bishop, Darcy was not his brother...but he still found the possibility of resentment amusing.
“Come, then.” The monarch turned towards the forest. His glanced over the trees a moment and he pursed his lips in thought before a spark of recognition glimmered in his eyes. Ah yes...this was the way. Stepping gingerly at first, his gait grew more at ease as the pain in his leg numbed, growing accustomed to the slight bit of weight it was forced to bear. He listened for Bishop's foot steps behind him as he lead the way, satisfied. For several moments he remained silent, letting them make some proper progress before speaking out casually.
“So...Where do you come from then? Are you alone here?”
Once Darcy's back was turned,
...Which, of course, meant that he was mostly likely going to do something incredibly clumsy. It was always during periods of stress, moments when he should prove himself strong and able, that the ground fell away beneath him. Just as long as it didn't lead to a mistake around something as threatening as a beehive... There was nothing prideworthy about bee stings. Swollen lumps of skin...
His heart quickened its pace as he plodded along behind the stag. He expected silence during their journey... Stupid, really. If Bishop had learned anything from this venture, it was that the stag enjoyed hearing himself speak.
"What do you mean," he asked, not wanting to appear rude, but also not wanting to put too much strength into figuring out what Darcy was talking about. "Come from? I am here with my brother, and with Eraline, and with you."
(Loved that flashback, btw >>)
An ear swiveled back to catch
Perhaps he deserved that much for what he was making him do.
“I mean where were you born... Parents? Is your brother your only family?” the stag persisted, determined to be undaunted by the game.
There was that word again.
And Henna. And Jokerman. And Xetkal (father Xetkal... the only family that Bishop truly understood). And so many others that Bishop hadn't met... Or worse, hadn't realized were family.
He suddenly became self-conscious that he may have been disrespecting a great many members of Eraline's family without knowing it. His fur ruffled, standing up across his shoulders.
"I'm unaware of parents. If family is blood, then yes, my brother is my only family. If family is not blood..." he thought for a moment, considering Eraline's vast network of keepers. He had nothing of that sort. "Then I have my brother, and I have Eraline."
Until you make another mistake... and then she's gone again. Just like that.
He made a full stop at the suddenness of this thought, his breath catching. It was so easy... so easy to make mistakes, when he didn't know what the rules were. Already, he'd come so close. And would this ever end? Would he forever be on the verge of losing her? Shaken, he resumed blindly following Darcy, trying to banish that idea from his mind. That mindset was poison. He'd never win her with those thoughts pricking him.
When the soft rustling of
No parents? No family?
Well...that explained a lot.
The stag finally came to a stop just in time to watch Bishop snap out of his fog and move quickly to catch up again. Hm...should he push it? Pry a little more? He hesitated, then began moving forward again, deciding to to least offer the buck the release of movement.
“You two raised yourselves then?” he squeezed in one last question, deciding against asking for any more 'personal' details. For some reason, the thought brought a smile to his face. He had had a mother – albeit a fairly useless one – and some strange semblance of a family once though they were hardly a 'unit'. Not really knowing what a 'normal' family was meant to be like was one thing Darcy could sympathize with. He had tried many times to view his friends in this way. Even tried his hand at starting his own, once or twice... Eraline had told him she was his family, and yet...Darcy didn't see it this way. He would never tell her this of course, but it didn't quite feel right. Did Bishop feel the same?
Blinking away the thoughts, he realized his surroundings and his feet found a familiar trail. Yes, it was somewhere around here, he was certain.
“Ah...here we go!” Ducking beneath a low hanging branch, Darcy ripped his antlers through the leaves as they caught before striding up to an old, hollowed tree trunk. It leaned precariously against a neighboring tree by what seemed like only thick strips of dead, splintered bark. His ears pricked attentively as he carefully approached it, listening for the tell-tale signs he'd detected before. A pleasant and busy 'hum' reassured him this was the same tree as before – well, that and the dozens of flying insects flitting about the area, entering and exiting the hive hidden just beneath the surface.
“Came across this baby the other day. Lucky find... It will make things much easier, however more unfortunate for the bees. Now, the trick is to get them sleepy first, and for that...we need fire.” Grinning, he turned to rest his expectant eyes on Bishop. “This is where speed comes in handy...a skill that I unfortunately lack at the moment. You will need to borrow a flame. From a candle upon someone's antlers is your best bet, though such a deer may take some time to find. Keep it burning and bring it back here."
He paused to lift a questioning eyebrow.
“Do you think you're up for that?”
Bishop's brows knitted a
"We..." he started, but was cut off by Darcy's pleased exclamation. He let out a breath of relief, glad that this line of questioning was finished. He didn't know what purpose it served, and bringing up thoughts of family just reminded him that he knew very little about the subject.
Bishop hung back as Darcy approached the tree trunk, not too keen on getting close before his presence was required. His eyes darkened as Darcy continued to speak. Lucky find. He looked on in confusion at the mention sleep, and fire. ...How was fire supposed to make them sleepy? Fire usually made things faster, and angrier. Keeping his skepticism to himself, Bishop nodded. He knew two deer that held fire... neither of which he actually wanted to approach. Henna, or the demon Obake. He would feel absolutely no shame at stealing fire from Obake (did demons sleep?), but he knew the logical first choice was Henna.
"I'll be back soon," he said, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt, and he took off into the forest.
Darcy grinned as Bishop
He wasn't at all convinced the buck would be coming back.
The brief look of doubt he'd seen in Bishop's eye at the mention of fire had been amusing. What did he think the stag had planned? That thought – as well as the thought that he might not return – was very entertaining for Darcy. Worth being stood up? Probably, though it certainly wouldn't do the buck any favors. As cynical as he felt compelled to be on the matter and as prepared as he was for disappointment, he had a feeling Bishop wouldn't let him down. Shaking his head, his eyes tore from the path to the flitting form of a bee whizzing by his head. Sidestepping, Darcy allowed his eyes to follow the insect back to the tree in question where it disappeared amongst the crowd. Well, might as well get things ready, just in case. He proceeded to wander about the area in search of dry materials, gathering them up and piling them beneath the rotting log. The bees were getting restless, growing irritated by his nosy presence. More and more crawled from the hive, taking flight to buzz around his head. The stag moved slowly and defensively around them.
“- then you haul ass squirt. Once one of them stings ya – and that's a given – they'll all want a piece.”
“You're crazy...”
Deep, sincere laughter. “Yup!”
“Well I'm not! I'm not doing th-”
“To hell you aren't! Come on, get ready. One, two- ... HA! You should see the look on your face. Like I would really stand here and open a bee hive! That's rich.”
The monarch snorted softly, shaking his head as a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He gingerly twitched his ear as a buzzing bee tried to settle upon it, tucking them against his head before retreating to find more pine needles. Mmm, some mushrooms maybe... It might be a long wait.
Bishop was not lost...
A small, high-pitched whirring caught his attention, and he looked to the side just in time to see a drunken, fat little bee floating up from a crimson flower. The odds of this being a member of that specific hive... But he followed it anyway, picking his way through the flowers and tangled vines, careful not to let the flame touch any leaves or bark as he squeezed his way through.
His spirits leapt when he caught sight of the hollow trunk, leaning haphazardly against a nearby tree, and he picked his way around it at a distance, scanning the area for signs of Darcy.
“Anh! Gwate wehk.” The stag
...Hm.
Stepping past him, he dropped the dried fungus next to the ready pile of twigs and leaves before turning and nodding his head, signaling Bishop to set the candle down between them. He was grateful for the help no doubt but wasn't about to kiss him to retrieve it!
“Alright... plan of action. The smoke will make them sluggish and disoriented, allowing safe access into the combs. You don't have to worry about that part, though.”
Darcy stooped the carefully take the wax cylinder in his teeth, stepping over to his miniature pyre to tentatively set it ablaze. Setting the candle back down in the dirt, he took a moment more to blow air into the smoking debris, nurturing the tiny flame.
“What I need you to do is keep the smoke going. Keep adding dried leaves and pine needles...just be careful not to smother the thing – or let it get out of control. We don't want these babies lucid.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Bishop, briefly gauging his reaction. Convinced he would be compliant the stag nodded, then with a shake and bow of his head, removed his mask. The ratty wooden carving fell away to land haphazardly in the nearby ferns, revealing an angular face etched with deep, pink scars. From a distance he appeared youthful, but up close the lines of premature weathering were easily noticed.
The monarch approached the pile of dried materials he'd raked together and began adding them to the top of the flame – which for now was kept separated by a sturdy yet thin cage of sticks – but not before setting the mushroom right on top. He wasn't sure about it, but it would no doubt help to 'sweeten' the deal, right? Almost immediately, thick gray smoke began to rise. “Stand back,” he warned the buck, shifting away a little himself. The air began to fill with the bitter scent of burning, the calming scent of pine...and the ever present sweetness of the honey that lay just below the crumbling bark. He closed his eyes and inhaled it readily, ignoring the choking sensation it caused at the back of his throat. The hum of the bees began to grow louder...more urgent. Something was wrong, but they were slow to realize what. Some of the braver – or perhaps more timid- members took to the air and spun wildly overhead, searching for a source of their distress. “Give it a minute,” the monarch muttered to himself, watching them carefully. Slowly but surely the buzzing insects began to drop to the ground or disperse and the humming within the tree quieted again. Eventually he nodded to himself, his eyes briefly meeting the buck's before he tip-toed into the war zone. Fuzzy bodies crawled along the ground at his feet, sleepy and disoriented. They continued to pour from the crevices of the tree, dropping or lazily taking to the air to fly in dizzying circles. One or two dived at him, but were easily avoided.
“Keep your wits about you... Some are more persistent than others.”
Reaching the side of the tree, the stag leaned in and gingerly began working at the crumbling bark, tearing it away in chunks with his teeth.
Bishop's ears perked, not
He set the candle down where Darcy motioned, stepped back to wipe his dark face on one foreleg, ridding it of the smokey grime and sweat that had gathered. Once that was finished, and his vision fully restored, he watched carefully, listening to the stag's explanation. That sounded far less foolish than anything he'd previously mentioned. And especially less foolish after the stag gave him yet another piece of news: that he wouldn't be breaking into the hive himself. Bishop felt a wave of relief, and then resentment. Did Darcy not trust him with that portion of the gathering?
He paused when Darcy dropped his own mask. Attempting not to stare, as if he were looking upon something illicit, he watched the stag's movements. When the bees began to drop, drugged by the curling smoke, he looked upon the fire with new respect.
The fire was important.
So this was a test, then. A dangerous one, from the sound of it. Bishop knew nothing of fires, or of bees. But he knew that he could replicate what Darcy did to make the fire bloom into smoke. As Darcy began tearing into the ancient wood, Bishop made his way back to tend the fire, memorizing the appearance of the flame. He had to keep it there. His eyes rested for a moment on the mushroom. Darcy had not explained the purpose of that, but he was beginning to feel a new respect for the old stag, and decided to trust his judgement.
As he was getting settled, a drunken bee curled down from the heavens, landing with a plop on the tip of his nose. He watched it for a moment as it fought to cling to black fur, before shaking it off onto the ground to crawl around with its brethren. There were hundreds of them, at least… He’d never seen anything like it. So, despite the ache he knew he’d have in his neck, he remained standing, stooping over the fire to watch the flame.
(Definitely letting you take the lead on unfolding events here XD I only know slightly more than Bishop does, haha~)
[ Apologies for taking all
The entire tree trembled. He could feel the vibrations through the bark as it was stripped away. Hundreds- perhaps thousands of bees were pressed together inside, their little bodies trembling with rage as bit by bit sunlight penetrated their sacred grotto, lighting up their glossy wings. The sleepy guards were failing to signal for danger, leaving those inside agitated and confused as the smoke crept in through the cracks. They began to scatter, losing focus, and slowly the golden honey combs became visible beneath them. Unfortunately, the bark was becoming more stubborn to loosen.
'Ouch!' A sudden sting on his cheek made him pull back. Darcy huffed and gave his head a good shake to clear away the bees that had crawled onto his face. His eyes began to water, but a few rapid blinks cleared them again. “More smoke,” he ordered, bowing his head and coughing to clear his lungs before continuing to work away at the dead tree. Finally a good strip came loose, and as he jerked it away the the tree rocked uneasily, sending a stream of little insect bodies pouring out into the ground and into the air. Darcy ducked and stepped back, giving them time to fly into the new blackened billows of smoke. Squinting through it, he watched Bishop, amused that the buck was complying so easily...and with some enthusiasm at that? His expression softened at the thought, his lips upturning slightly. The teen might have caught him staring as he lost himself in thought for a few moments, then with with a jerk of his head he was back to work again.
It was difficult, clearing a space large enough to reach into. A deer with a muzzle might have had an easier time of it, but he managed eventually. Gently blowing away the light bodies of lingering bees he gingerly reached in and dug into the honeycomb, snapping off a chunk. His teeth broke through the wax coating and thick golden liquid filled his mouth and dripped down his chin as he pulled back. Snorting air in attempts to clear the wanting bees he quickly made his way over to Bishop, setting the comb in his overturned mask before back for more. The smoke was burning his eyes and filling his lungs, making him choke. Eh, perhaps they'd overdone it a bit. He could barely see what he was doing when he reached in once more, digging around for another good sized piece to bite off. Agh! Another sting on the chin made him jump just as he tore away at more honey. Jerking back, he bumped the tree trunk, violently rocking it.
'Aw, shit.
With a loud, dry snap its hold on the tree beside it gave way and it started falling.
“Watch out!” he called as he himself leapt away. Honey-slicked teeth clenched and a breath was sucked in his his injured leg was awkwardly jarred. With a resounding crack the hollowed log hit the ground and snapped apart at the middle. A feverish roar filled the air as a new torrent of bees rose up, alerted out of the depths of the hive. They appeared a bit more... lucid than their hive-mates. The stag coughed and shrank back, startled and thinking fast. Well, 'this' was new... Should he dare another go? The comb had split and a large, loose piece taunted him now. Yet pain was everywhere; from the warm tingling of fresh stings to the throbbing in his leg and ribs as his sides heaved for fresh air. 'Hmm.'
“Alright, time to make a run for it I think!” he rasped, limping around to where Bishop stood, “I'll get the fire. Race in there and get that loose piece of comb. Just be quick about it and stay in the smoke cover!” The monarch spoke with authority and agitation more out of urgency then anything else. Spinning himself around he backed up to the fire and dug at it with his hind legs, clearing the billowing debris from the top and kicking dirt onto the flames. He then quickly grabbed the red ties of his mask in the corner of his mouth before gingerly pressing the wax of the idle candle between his lips. Sure Bishop would be following – or perhaps he'd taken his advice to heart and had already run ahead – Darcy stumbled blindly away from the buzzing, smoking chaos to seek a safer part of the forest.
(I know how that goes XD And
Bishop was perfectly fine with his job, softly blowing on the flame, sticking in a tiny twig or two, until Darcy's first exclamation hit the air. More smoke. He could create more fire. More fire meant more smoke, right? He picked up a mouthful of fresh green leaves, dropping them onto the flame. It sputtered for a moment, gasping for air between the suffocating greenery, and then caught hold. Bishop smiled, pleased with himself... until the fire exploded into a smokey column. He coughed, lowering himself onto his knees to get below the suffocating cloud. A few bees found their way onto his legs, but he ignored them. They seemed content to pretend he was a piece of the ground.
The mushroom at the top of the stack had begun to curl, warping in on itself as its juices dried up. Bishop watched it, his nose inches from its weathered surface, imagining it to be some old crone's skin, flayed of fur, aging rapidly. It made his stomach turn. He looked up to see Darcy dropping a thick slab of... that definitely wasn't honey. It was glowing. He squinted at it, wondering if that's where all honey came from. If bee hives all glowed on the inside. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head, and returned his attention to the fire. It was... beautiful. The flame. He hadn't noticed before. He bent down close to it, his throat clenching to stave off the smoke, and coughed hard into the fire. The more fragile flames nearest him sputtered out immediately. Bishop gasped, panicked, and threw more leaves onto the fire. Too many leaves. Smoke billowed out from the small blaze, making the air around him dark.
There was a crack from the other side of the smokestack, but he couldn't see the cause. He could only see the fire jumping before his nose, and the great darkness that surrounded him. He was part of it. Part of this darkness, and this fire. When he looked back at himself, at the bees crawling around him, he could see where his orange patches stood out vibrantly against the darkness, wavering gently like the flutter of wings. He was part of the bees, too. So then, was Darcy stealing his honey? He knitted his brow, confused by this.
Darcy's voice popped him out of his musings, and he scrambled to his legs, which felt strong and powerful beneath him. He could run a mile. He could fly. And if he was pulling a honeycomb from his own hive, it certainly wasn't stealing, right? He jumped across the small flame, landing inches away from where the comb stuck out of the hive. He ripped it free, feeling sharp pinpricks of fire on his neck and back. He was part of the fire. Pain was natural. Pain had always been natural.
With his prize dripping from his lips, he bounded off into the forest, hooves crackling against leaves. The honey was his, so he would do with it as he pleased. And he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. Without a second glance back, he took off through the forest in search of Eraline.
(Read a lot of discussion about whether or not you can smoke mushrooms. Thought about how the low heat would probably maintain the druggy effects. Realized that they're in a MAGICAL FOREST so whatever. Screw reason XD)
[LOLOLOLOL oh gosh. GO BISHOP
The buzzing had faded. Fresh air filled his heaving lungs, though the burning persisted. His stinging, watering eyes were useless in navigation, so he stumbled on blindly, uncertain of where he was once he'd gotten there. It didn't matter.
Where was Bishop?
Pressing his eyelids tightly together to clear his lenses he squinted out into the forest, pivoting in search of the buck's flashy colors against the greenery. He was hard to miss, even when you could barely see... so where was he? Hoof beats drew his ears around and his head twisted to follow. Ah! There he was! Sighing inwardly, Darcy ducked to drop what he held then lifted his head again to call out to the teen, though surely he saw him. Wait...why was he headed in that direction?
“Hey...Bishop!...HEY!”
The buck charged ahead, swiftly disappearing into the distance, the large slab of honey still clenched in his teeth. Darcy gritted his. What did he think he was doing? Surely he'd heard him! Huffing and pinning his ears, he began to give chase, though he barely got anywhere before sliding to a stop. There was no point... He'd never be able to catch him.
That, and the world around him was beginning to...tilt?
The stag stumbled to the side, his scabbed shoulder pressing heavily against the bark of a nearby tree for balance. Yes, the ground beneath his hooves was indeed beginning to move, threatening to send him stumbling down hill...perhaps off the very face off the earth.
“Okay, okay,” he muttered, closing his eyes against the assault and groaning. 'Little shithead...' He should have known better than to-... His bitterness was cut short. A cough lurched from his throat, but it wasn't just that, it was...laughter? This was...funny? Yes...yes it was funny. Hilarious in fact! The stag's body shook as laughter continued to leap out of him, sputtering at first before his lungs cleared and allowed the deep, clear sound of it rise up and fill the quiet forest with his wry amusement. Slowly but surely he slid down the side of the tree, allowing his tired legs and spinning head a rest. Leaning his head to one side he eyed the flickering candle a distance away where he set it, his tongue snaking out to lick at the bit of sticky sweetness left drying on his chin.
Well that was...interesting.
(Brilliant XD That was hella
I'm sorry it took so long. I
Aw pfft, it didn't take long
I DUNNO IF THERE'S GONNA BE ANY HONEY LEFT WHEN THEY'RE DONE WITH IT.
Putting it on all of his bee stings...
warning: honey naughtiness
^ oh noes! @A@
finally tracking this >u>
adorable art by Tuoho! ♥
Loooong overdue track!
Darcy is MAGIC! ROFL
HE IS?!
Yeah spreading his pelt on
http://endlessforest.org/comm
Oh jesus it's a tiny Darcy
;U;
"Good evening, Stag Darcy,"
Track-a-lakin' The Monarch
The Monarch Butterly Pelt Mafia. That organization must be formed now~
Pfft, I never know how to
Shaku: The stag's swift,
The stag's swift, domineering approach was abruptly cut short by the buck's greeting. It was...unexpected, to say the least. His expression, carefully fashioned into one of irritability, faltered in momentary bewilderment. Staring Bishop down, he quickly caught on and recovered soon after with a snort. “Cute,” he answered simply, his tone caustic. Of course, he wasn't really angry. Beneath the dark shadow of his mask the corner of his mouth lifted in the tiniest way as he slowly approached then passed the younger male, his eyes moving over him in a playfully critical way. “This just means you still owe me,” he cooed, stepping gingerly into the water. He flashed Bishop a knowing grin before dipping his head to drink.
Ginger:
Hey! :3
I love Jergens, I'm so glad they finally met. Was meaning to hunt him down sometime and see how he and D got along. Wasn't expecting him to approach! He looks quite stunning in the monarch pelt ;D haha. I'm down with an organization...Amelia of course being our head -snort-
Eeee thank you so much! 8'D I
But yesss~ It's very rare that he won't get along swimmingly with others most of the time c':
If that's the case, I should probably save this spell-data |D
Now it was Bishop's turn to
"Oh? I thought we made a trade. You kept the candle, so I took some honey. Really, you got the best half, since the candle means you can get honey any time you want now. And to be honest, that honey didn't even last very long..." He bit his tongue, unable to resist the last bit, but regretting it as soon as it left his mouth. No, it was fine. That could mean anything. The fact that he was subtly rubbing Eraline's attention in the older stag's face could be easily concealed.
(Yess, Amelia makes a good little evil dictator.)
Darcy's ears swiveled back as
“I don't remember a trade being part of the agreement. I merely picked up what you forgot in your...haste. I have no use for that, now...though I'm sure Miss Henna will be wanting it back?”
Turning to face the buck fully now he cocked a brow to emphasis his question. He couldn't help but look a bit smug. It was juvenile perhaps, but the monarch youth was back to being a punk again. Disappointing, really. He'd thought their little honey gathering adventure had gone well up until the shit's little stunt. Had he been wrong? Had no progress really been made?
“Yes, I noticed," he mused drly. He spent enough time in the presence of the golden doe to take note of the empty cup of wax upon her tine. The stag paused to let the thought sink in before continuing.
"Like I noticed the dried honey in Eraline's fur. You should leave being clever to the more observant, kid.”
Shaking his head he tore his eyes away and stepped from the water, slowly climbing the bank.
Sorrel had fun today. He's
/secret track
Bishop couldn't help but
"Ah, my mistake," he said, bowing low to show submission, his ears falling back. It didn't go unnoticed that Darcy called on Henna by name, despite Bishop specifically avoiding naming her the owner. It wasn't too remarkable, but... if Darcy knew that Henna was missing her candle, why didn't he take it to her himself? Curious. "I'll try to make it up to you, then. But you can still keep the candle. I found her some new ones."
His face continued to light up a the next bit, "I never said I shared it with Eraline... See, you are more observant than you think! I find myself repeatedly impressed by you, Stag Darcy. My apologies, though, if there was. I thought I got it all out."
Tracking! Always admired
Oh, we can only hope ;3
"Well aren't you a charmer...
She flicks her tail casually, placing her lips on his jaw, and begins to walk passed him slowly.
Track (:
I think I should track
Darcy has been too freaking cute with Idelle. It is killing me.
Edit,
It is probably a good thing my other computer's connection is being a pain. Otherwise Gustiro would still be in and probably not let Darcy have that much interaction. XD