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| Coming up for Air; Sceo kicks back at Compass Point. | |
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| Topic Started: Dec 23 2008, 02:02 PM (290 Views) | |
| Sceotend Russet | Dec 23 2008, 02:02 PM Post #1 |
 
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OOC:: No real plans for this, but Sceo's here to wind down. Given her nature, this is likely going to result in wild hijinks. *griiiin* IC:: Her best estimate put it at two months. Two months of utter, insane, total, all encompassing busy-ness. A patrol here, a sick guardbeast she had to fill in for on duty there, a fair pawful of newbeasts to train and check up on. It had all felt rather ridiculous at times. But now... Now! Now she had a little bit of free time again. Of course it had to be after the start of winter, with the snow falling all around and temperatures that no sane beasts willingly ventured out into. At least it was a little warmer now. And to be honest, the whole issue of sanity had never really been one for Sceo, or that was what one or two beasts had said over the seasons. The wind gusted and blustered tossing up great walls of powdered snow and spreading them all across Sceotend's face. She kept her paws hidden deep within the wide sleeves of her robe, and happily did the same with her tufted ears and the thick hood of her cloak. Unfortunately, her nose and whiskers were left to fend for themselves, and as a result, were rather covered in snow and ice by the time she reached the Compass Point inn. A wide grin spread across all her face the moment she slammed the door shut behind her, and despite a pointed scowl from Burku, the younger squirrel offered her a cheerful greeting as she sank into one of the many empty seats. "Can I have a bit of October Ale, marm?" |
 Is most definitely one to argue. | |
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| Lorna Thumbleburr | Dec 29 2008, 11:13 AM Post #2 |
Level One Poster
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Burku gave Sceo a dark look. Snow always turned to water, and water left splotches on her polished wooden tables. And floors. And chairs. But of course, this wouldn't stop her from serving up some ale.... she wasn't quite that bitter. Yet. "Lorna!" Burku shouted. This was a simple task, good practice for the mole.... "Lorna, one mug of ale!" From the kitchen there was a sudden clang, followed by a crash, followed by lots of hurr-hurring and chortled laughter. Burku winced at each noise. She considered apologizing to Sceo, but the squirrel had, after all, splotched up the floor. Instead, she watched in silence as the doors to the kitchen banged open to reveal a plump mole. Lorna had found herself an old plaid apron somewhere, and had accessorized it with bar rags stuffed into every available pocket. Combined with the flower print kerchief on her head, she looked like one part kitchen rabgin and two parts tattered quilt. Despite her clothing choice, she was immaculately clean, all of the way down to her freshly scrubbed paws 'n claws. She carried not only a mug of ale but also an overflowing tankard of the same brew. The mole smiled happily, shuffled up to Sceotend's table, and dropped the mug down with a satisfactory thunk. "Burr, thurr bees 'ee toisty h'ale! 'Tis roight foin fer 'ee chilly wintertoims, aye." Without further ado, she also plunked the large tankard down in the center of the table. It was large, holding nearly two liters. It was meant to serve a table of six, but Burku hadn't had the time yet to explain to Lorna the finer details of servingware. Ale slopped to the left and right, but luckily didn't slosh onto the squirrel. Before the squirrel commander could react, Lorna kept right on rambling with a huge smile on her face. "An' fer moi gaffers roight paw, tisn't gudd manners t'leave 'ee thursty beasties a-wantin' refillers. Marm, 'ee don't seem t'be the type t'drink all solitary. No, no. This'n jugger's fer 'ee company.... an' if'n yon friends don't be a-showin' up, this ale 'twill keep 'ee toasty warm." She smiled happily at Sceo, ignoring Burku's look of dismay from the corner. "Drink 'ee up, missy!" |
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"We all urr wurms, but oi do burlieve oi'm a glow wurm." (amended from Winston Churchill.) :-:Biography:-: | |
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| Teren Bocere | Dec 29 2008, 01:06 PM Post #3 |
Level Two Poster
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It was cold outside. Bitterly cold. Bitter cold, combined with wet snow underpaw and more wet snow falling so thick from the grey sky that anything standing still was covered within seconds. Teren trudged through it all, if not happy then at least oblivious to the discomfort. He'd been on duty for what seemed like weeks. In the North Tower. With Commander Sceo. He was beginning to think the twitch on his left eye was permanent. But here was just what he needed! A beautiful free day of reprieve. The otter had woken early, packed his art supplies, put on multiple layers of warm clothing, and then happily trekked several miles across snowy territory, where he then sat precariously balanced on a stone outcropping drawing a winter scene. It was slow going, especially since he had to stop every few seconds to unfreeze his paws in the small fire he'd built. He had bravely attempted painting for a while, but had to go back to charcoal when the water kept freezing into a solid block. Alas, the hardships of a very determined nature artist. When he'd judged he'd done enough for one day (or perhaps that he'd suffered enough for his art), he happily repacked his things and began trudging through the snowing, silent, forest back towards Black Arch Fort. He came out near the coast, quite near Compass Point. It was his conscious intention to do so, but once he saw the inn a smile (quite small, since his muzzle was rather stiff with ice) crossed his face and he began angling towards it. A nice mug of ale was what he needed right now. The warmth inside hit him like a wave as he entered the inn. Teren breath in a happy sigh and shook the casing of ice and snow off of him. A perfect time to try to get some feeling back in his limbs. He was sliding his pack off his back when a familiar voice struck his ears. His expression freezing even more than was warranted by actual ice, he turned. There he spotted a familiar pair of ears and a bushy tail. No. No. Not her, here. Surely he could get SOME peace! His eyes slanted furtively to the side. Maybe she wouldn't see him. He'd sit in the corner, yes, and they wouldn't bother one another. Yes. That would work. |
| Avatar courtesy of the amazing Lady Admin. | |
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| Sceotend Russet | Dec 29 2008, 04:53 PM Post #4 |
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Sceo stared at the tankard with a rather astonished look plastered across her face, that very quickly turned into a grin. Duran would have her tail, her fuzzy, fuzzy tail if she drank all that. Come to think of it, Burku probably would, too. "Haha! Thank you much, Lorna. This'll hit the spot. I do hope one or two beasts I..." She trailed off slightly as the door swung open again, and a strong gust of wind blew in with the new arrival. The squirrel twisted around in her chair and glanced towards the beast who had just entered and scurried hastily into a corner. She squinted a little into the darkness. It was terribly hard to make out features of whoever that was, hunched over and frozen as he was. Unless... Oh yes! It was! "Teren! Teren y' old icicle of a waterdog! Get over here! There's plenty of ale for you an' me, both!" She glanced at the tankard again. "And anybeast else who happens to show up." She grinned and motioned happily towards a chair on the opposite side of the table. |
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Is most definitely one to argue. | |
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| Teren Bocere | Dec 30 2008, 12:05 AM Post #5 |
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Level Two Poster
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Oh cinnamon flavored snapdragons! Sweet fluffy rocks! He'd been seen. Teren momentarily considered ducking and pretending he hadn't heard, but it would no use. Commander Sceo was renowned for her energy and, er, tenacity. She'd just come get him. Left eye already twitching, the otter forced himself to wear an uneasy grin as he drug himself over to the table. He managed a half-hearted wave as he sat. "C-commander Sceo," he coughed. "Fancy meeting you here." He stared hard at the ale, avoided Sceo's gaze, and then cast a desperate look for help. His eyes lit pleadingly on the figure of a mole. |
| Avatar courtesy of the amazing Lady Admin. | |
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| Lorna Thumbleburr | Dec 30 2008, 03:44 PM Post #6 |
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Level One Poster
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Teren was clearly less than thrilled. In fact, he looked downright uncomfortable. Oh well. Lorna happily pushed him into a chair and produced another mug from one of her enormous pockets. The mole beamed at Sceo. "Hurr, oi bee's a-knowin' yore future, miss! Oi knowed yon waterdog'd be a-showin' up, an' oi got 'ee ale a-plenny. Now, be makin' no mistakers, oi'm sure 'ee bees plenny cap'ble of suppin' up all this 'ere ale by yore lonesome - But 'tis gurtly merrier wid a gurtly 'andsome beastie!" THUMP. The mug was now squarely in front of the otter, and a few seconds later it was filled to the brim with ale. Sweet, dark, cold October ale. More than enough for two. Teren looked mortified, and Sceo looked.... mischevious. Lorna's eyes twinkled dangerously. She was certainly not dense - but sometimes it was so much fun to play with fire. "Now, 'ee miss 'n master, tell'n ole Lorna yore truth. You two luverlies gots t'be winnertoim sweet'earts! Aww, an' yer a-comin' t'ee inn fer a snuggly lil' hoid-a-ways! 'Ow long till we bee's a yurrin' weddin' bells an' stompin' of lil' dibbun paws?" |
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"We all urr wurms, but oi do burlieve oi'm a glow wurm." (amended from Winston Churchill.) :-:Biography:-: | |
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| Sceotend Russet | Jan 1 2009, 12:57 PM Post #7 |
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Oh, how was she supposed to keep a straight face? It was hard enough under normal circumstances, but now? Of course, judging from Teren's look of absolute horror, there was very little that she could do that would make it that much worse. So, she grinned. And reached far across the table to pat the otter's shoulder gently. "Oh, now. Lorna! You found us out! Can't say that we know when those blessed bells'll be ringing, though. Springtime, perhaps, dearest Teren?" She looked at the otter, giving him a glance filled to the brim with delighted mischief. |
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Is most definitely one to argue. | |
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| Simon Flynn | Jan 2 2009, 07:40 AM Post #8 |
Level Two Poster
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The door of the inn closed so quickly that Simon didn't even have time to register the fact that his glasses had fallen off his nose onto the doormat inside. The mouse stumbled away from the inn, falling onto his backside in the snow. He turned about swiftly, scrabbled on frozen paws back to the path. If he had known any curses, he possibly would have uttered them right then. Such scandal! Such ... repulsion! An otter and a squirrel? Really. He had to speak to Commander Swiftpike about this. It was against the laws of nature, it was! And his own commander! And... fellow North Tower... Guard... hey. Simon slowed to a canter. Teren? That was the otter's name, right? He'd seen the fellow around the North Tower. A bit jumpy, he was. Had a nasty tic (Simon only learned what Erys had meant by this last week; until then, he'd been checking his fur with extreme paranoia for little bugs.) Hadn't been on duty or patrol or watch with him yet, though. Still, he didn't seem the type to really - Really? Sceotund? Simon stopped, unsure what to do. On the one paw, he was utterly horrified. On the other, he was mildly skeptical. On the third paw, he didn't exactly want to walk all the way back to the Fort to report this to Swiftpike - the vole would either call him a liar or die from laughter - not to mention having to go back to his family for the rest of the day. Pegg was teething again. And on the fourth paw, he really wanted some of Burku's soup again, and to visit Lorna as he'd promised he would. The mouse slowly turned around to face the inn again. Huh. Since when had it gotten all foggy? Sceotund Russet? |
| Simon Flynn"Yes, that happened once."...my other char's a hare: Enamel Pardon | |
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| Teren Bocere | Jan 2 2009, 12:27 PM Post #9 |
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Level Two Poster
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Teren didn't move. He couldn't. Except for the tic in his eye, which was twitching away happily, he was completely and utterly frozen from shock and horror. No. NO. Whyyyyyyy? The otter began, quietly, to hyperventilate. He wished he was dead. Horrid mole! "No, no, it's not- not-" he began to stammer, but the Evil Sceo spoke up. Teren flinched as she patted his shoulder. "Oh, now. Lorna! You found us out! Can't say that we know when those blessed bells'll be ringing, though. Springtime, perhaps, dearest Teren?" He made a strangled noise in his throat and tried to scoot away. Ohnoohnoohno. A desperate look around sought help, but there looked to be no one inside to come to the aid of the poor otter. His mouth opened in an attempt to formulate some protest, some strongly worded voice to stand up for his rights and his dignity. Nothing came out. Teren wished he was dead. |
| Avatar courtesy of the amazing Lady Admin. | |
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| Lorna Thumbleburr | Jan 2 2009, 02:28 PM Post #10 |
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This was even better than expected. Teren looked mortified. Sceo looked thrilled. "Hurrr, springer toim? That bees 'ee gurt zeason fer fancy weddins. If'n oi dares say so, you'm'll be lookin' roight purdy mizz tree'opper. Yore sweety-lumpkin otterdogger prolly bees a-countin' 'ee days till 'ee makes you 'is own! 'Eee burds 'n bees, flowers 'n trees.... oi c'n hardly wait! 'Spectin' p'raps oi might get invoit-" A flash of movement from the corner of the room caught Lorna's eye. The door had opened, and then swung shut abruptly. And there, clattering on the floor, lay a pair of slightly dirty spectacles. Lorna stopped, mid-sentence. She raised a paw to her whiskers, and uttered a deathly Shhhhh to Teren and Sceo. The mole extracted a rather wicked looking copper ladle from one of her many pockets. She lowered her voice to a husky whisper, and leaned in conspiratorily. "Naow.... don't 'ee be gettin' afroighted... oi've seen this toip o' trouble afore. It ne'er ends well..... boi 'ecky, oi says. Ye'm didn't bees tell'n oi that thurr's a scorned lover in yer past. Thurr's a spy here-bouts, an' don't 'ee worry, oi c'n protect 'ee roight proper, aye." She frowned, looking back and forth between the squirrel and otter. "Fer 'ee own health 'n soifty, 'ee best be a-tellin' me roight now. Which'n one of 'ee had a sweet'eart in yore past - gurtly scorned, turribly vengeful, an' be-spectackled loik a bloind batbeast?" |
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"We all urr wurms, but oi do burlieve oi'm a glow wurm." (amended from Winston Churchill.) :-:Biography:-: | |
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