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Post by ferret on Jul 10, 2011 13:20:57 GMT -5
What was this? This was a New Thing! That immediately made it extremely interesting to Orensk. The blue wher was still getting used to his new surroundings, which largely meant snuffling around the Weyrbowl, making a lot of noise, and trying to avoid all buckets. For some reason, that last task had become amazingly easy, although it didn’t occur to Orensk. All he noticed was that it was finally dark out, Pern’s two moons casting only a meager light over the darkened Weyrbowl, turning dark Orensk into a mere shadow. It was a cool clear night, the perfect time to go hunting as the world of shadows was translated into infrared for the wher’s vision. Everything was glorious forever!
That is, until he came across the New Thing. “Clkclkclk,” he clicked to himself a few times, tilting his head to one side as he studied this New Thing That Was Not There the Night Before. What New Thing? New Thing fun? he asked curiously, attempting to communicate with it.
That’s a sack, Orensk. You’ve seen them before, came Oren’s kind answer. Stifling a yawn, the wherhandler briefly patted his wher on the shoulder. This early night jaunts were starting to get to him and he knew there would be more until the blue wher was nicely settled.
“Eee!” Orensk squealed happily at the word. Yes, he knew sacks! They were very amazingly fun things that apparently contained a bottomless pit of everything he loved forever. They were also generally carefully kept out of his way, thanks to that same quality. Chuckling to himself, the absolutely delighted wher stuck his nose into the empty sack. Is food? he asked hopefully, tail wagging behind him. Is toy? Orensk like toys! He seized the sack in his jaws and flapped it around a few times, hoping to get whatever was in it out.
When absolutely nothing came out, Orensk tossed the sack away and tried to get in.
In fact, the sack was full of holes. Oren could even see Orensk’s nose sticking out from one of the holes. The wherhandler relaxed. There was probably no way that the blue wher could hurt himself with a sack. Probably. Maybe? Possibly? As Oren turned the idea over in his mind, he became more concerned about it. And what if the sack did belong to someone? Clearly, they shouldn’t have left it on the ground in the Weyrbowl where a curious wher could come across it but still… some people could be extremely unreasonable about that sort of thing. Orensk, put it down. You don’t know where it’s been.
“Hfff!” the wher huffed in response, thinking that it was a stupid phrase to use. Know it was on floor, he retorted, refusing to give up his prize. Mine! With the sack clamped between his jaws, Orensk ran juuust out of reach, taunting his owner playfully. Every time Oren made a grab for it, the wher simply ran further, being surprisingly fast and agile for such a large beast. Absolute joy radiated through Orensk’s mind.
Is toy! he bugled joyfully.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman 
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Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
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Post by Boo on Jul 10, 2011 22:33:21 GMT -5
Kisk’s head bounced merrily from side to side as he trotted his way out into the Weyrbowl, Kire following in his wake. Vesta had gone to sleep, satisfied that everybody was clean and good enough to be seen in public. Kisk’s hide was nicely oiled and he seemed rather excited as he picked up speed, head pointed upwards as though picking up a scent. He pranced every now and again and then bounded excitedly forwards.
KISK FIND! LOOK!
Kire skidded as she ran to catch up to the black Wherling. Kisk ran out into the Weyrbowl and turned to look at Kire, waggling his whole spiny body, gurgling happily. Kire smiled as she ran forwards. The black wher jumped out of the way and then led her somewhere else.
It wher! Not brotherblue or sistergreen! KISK FIND! Amazing Investigator!
He puffed himself up and then ran around to find the other wher. It was none of his clutchsiblings nor those whom had hatched at the same time but he was fairly certain it was a wher he had never smelled before. Kire called after him but figured there was nothing else she could do except run after him and hope he didn’t annoy the wher he was no doubt about to find.
That fun! Kisk PLAY!
Kire rounded the corner just as Kisk threw himself towards the larger blue wher, wings flapping uselessly. He bugled in the air and then landed on the sack, trying to steal it away from the blue. He gurgled playfully as Kire jumped forwards and grabbed Kisk around his stomach pulling him off the sack.
Nonononono Kisk be playing. BestKire no stop Kisk playing. Kisk be amazing!
He struggled against her arms waggling madly as she tried to prevent him from leaping free.
“Sorry, he… get’s… carried away.” She tried to apologise to the handler she had spotted there.
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Post by ferret on Jul 10, 2011 23:35:32 GMT -5
Embarrassingly enough, it wasn’t long before Oren gave up on chasing the stubborn blue wher around. For all of his size, Orensk was deceptively fast and knew his handler well enough to stay juuuust out of grabbing distance. With his hands pressed against his knees, the wherhandler tried to catch his breath. It only took a second for another player to enter the scene. He looked up sharply just in time to see a small black wherling launch himself at the sack.
“Blrt?” Orensk said in surprise, the smell of another wher finally filtering through the sack. New smell, new smell! he proclaimed joyfully, absolutely delighted to meet another friendly wher. Admittedly, the one that appeared was a lot smaller than he expected. The sheer tininess of the creature brought another ‘blort’ of surprise from Orensk, only slightly muffled by the sack, which he still refused to let go of. Ohh, no, he knew all of Oren’s clever tricks to make him stop doing things!
As the little black was taken away, Orensk leaned forward, eyes swirling with blue and green. “Prrrrp?” he asked curiously. Is Orensk! he introduced himself proudly, still moving closer since his grasp of ‘personal space’ was roughly the same as his grasp of astrophysics. He wiggled excitedly, absolutely delighted to meet another wher, especially one that was just so tiny and cute! He’d seen baby whers before, of course, but this was different. This was the first wher he’d seen at the Weyr proper. “Rroooo!” he ‘karroooed’ softly.
Meanwhile, it took about the same amount of time for Oren to get over the sheer shock of someone actually speaking to him. Someone was there-----right there-----and talking to him and she probably expected a response and oh Faranth what should he say? What if he said the wrong thing? ‘Haha, don’t worry, Orensk barely ever eats baby whers?’ it sounded sort of funny in his head, but he was certain, absolutely certain, that it would backfire somehow, most likely horrifically. Summoning up every oratory skill he had, Oren managed to say, “Um.”
… Absolutely riveting…
Orensk want play! the large blue wher demanded, bringing Oren’s mind back to the important thing, namely that his very large blue wher was probably scaring the poor girl and her little wherlet.
“It’s alright! Orensk is very friendly. He just has no concept of personal space and he’s just very playful. Um. He’s very gentle, if that helps? Not that I think he’d hurt your wher at all! I’m sure your wher is very tough, it’s just that he’s so small. Not that that’s bad!” ohFaranth, he really needed to look into flavoring his shoes. Maybe then it would make all of this so much easier to swallow. “Um. He’s Orensk. I’m Oren,” he finally decided to start there and hope for the best. "Orensk really is very friendly. He just thinks that everyone is his best friend."
"Sssk!" the wher said, agreeing fully. Want play? Will play with Kisk! he offered to the wherlet.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
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Post by Boo on Jul 13, 2011 5:08:40 GMT -5
Is Orensk!? Is Orensk! Is Kisk! Kisk be Kisk! Kisk chattered back to the blue, wriggling around like a tunnelsnake.
He didn’t understand why His did not want him playing. OrenskBigBlue was nice and had done nothing to him. Besides, Kisk wanted that thing OrenskBigBlue was playing with. He wriggled even more and responded to the blue’s calls with his own ecstatic bugles and gurgling.
Kire barely even heard the quiet ‘um’ from the other handler as she was practically wrestling with Kisk to keep him still. He was still shouting in her mind about wanting to play and it took all her concentration to just shout over the top of him.
Calm DOWN Kisk!
Why KireBest angry! Kisk be playing! KireBest play too!
Kisk seemed to quieten down, though, leaving Kire able to actually hear what the handler had to say. She relaxed considerably when Oren stated that Orensk would not harm Kisk. Her tiny wher had already managed to get himself lost she was constantly worried that something worse might happen to him.
“Oh.” She replied, startled, “Kisk is rather small, isn’t he? But he’s gonna grow! He’s really little at the moment.”
Kire smiled proudly down at Kisk and relaxed her hold on the wher. Kisk watched the handler between his front paws; wings flapping against Kire’s sides tail waggling excitedly until he finally managed to wriggle free from her arms and then jumped on the sack once again with a triumphant bugle.
“Kisk is really playful too, only he gets distracted sometimes.”
It was the nicest way of describing Kisk’s tendencies. He sure was smart though, she knew that much at least! Kisk would one day be the best Wher in the Weyr!
KISK PLAY!!! KISS!!!
He lunged forwards and grabbed the sack with his front paws, trying to pull it back. His paws slipped free and he tumbled backwards, rolling onto his side. He was not to be deterred, however, and merely strove to try harder, grabbing the sack in his teeth this time.
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Post by ferret on Jul 13, 2011 16:29:36 GMT -5
“I miss the days when Orensk was that tiny,” Oren said, feeling just a little bit more comfortable now that the topic was definitely whers, particularly his own. Few things pleased a pet owner more than talking about their pets; wherhandlers were much the same, only their pets tended to be fully capable of ripping a man’s arm off if they were upset. And then he considered the trouble that little Orensk used to get into… It was a lot harder for a big wher to get stuck in buckets. “Well, maybe I don’t miss it that much.”
“Reeee!” the large blue wher squealed in absolute delight as the little black wherlet seized the sack in his paws. Orensk doubled his jaws’ grasp on it and his paws dug into the ground.
Go easy on him, Orensk. He’s just a baby, Oren advised the wher, hoping that the large blue really would be extra-careful with this. Sure, he trusted the blue wher with his life, but that was different from a black wherlet.
His words got a rumbling agreement from the busy wher, who slacked up just a little, just enough to make Kisk tumble accidentally. Orensk clicked in concern, although that was short lived since the little black bounced right back into the game. Kisk good! he complimented the young wherlet as the tug-of-war started up again. Well, less of a ‘tug-of-war’ and more of a ‘stand-still-while-the-poor-wherlet-tries-to-tug-the-sack-away’. Orensk was larger than the little black, even for a blue. He basically just had to stand in one place and shake his head occasionally, like a pair of dogs scuffling over a bone.
“How old is Kisk?” Oren asked, trying to get something vaguely resembling a conversation going. It just felt strange to stand around and watch the two whers interact while the handlers said nothing at all. Then again, that was just about par for the course for him. Did that sound right? I mean, it’s obvious that he’s a very young wher… that was a stupid question, wasn’t it? he thought to himself anxiously.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
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Post by Boo on Jul 14, 2011 17:36:26 GMT -5
Kisk snuffled into the sack, jumping forwards and then back to tug on the sack in an attempt to wrest it from the hold of the larger blue. He shook his head to the side violently and then sat down when nothing seemed to really happen. He needed a new tactic. He kept jumping forwards and back in an attempt to tug just when Orensk may have slackened his grip on the cloth. It didn’t seem to succeed at all but Kisk never stopped trying.
Kisk am winning!! Orensk strong! Much strong than MummyAusk maybe?
He bugled into the sack, a muffled sound, and then looked to his side in the direction of Kire as she shifted. He didn’t want her to leave him but she didn’t move anywhere. That meant he could play for as long as he wanted, until he dropped to the ground all sleepy and tired from the effort! He was rather tired now but far too interested in the toy to fall asleep just yet. Later, when they had finished playing.
Kire smiled fondly at Kisk and then looked to Orensk. It was impossible to believe that the blue had once been as small as Kisk. When she looked at gold Kalesk she could hardly believe that Risk had once been that small, same with Damask and Ausk. Normally she didn’t think too deeply about it all but now that Oren had brought it up she couldn’t believe that Kisk had grown as much as he had.
“Yes, Kisk has grown so much… It’s been nearly a turn now.”
She was shocked to actually realise that Kisk was a lot older now. The time had flown right by! She’d never even truly noticed that a whole turn had nearly passed since she had stood and impressed at Risk and Ausk’s hatching.
She laughed, “Did he get into a lot of trouble?”
Kire couldn’t help but thank Faranth. Finally, someone with a wher even remotely like Kisk! She could ask Oren any questions about Orensk and be certain they might be applied to Kisk in some small way. The two whers were, after all, playing with a sack. If Orensk was still acting like Kisk, perhaps he had been very similar to her black wher when he was younger.
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Post by ferret on Jul 14, 2011 18:57:42 GMT -5
“Krkrkrk,” the large blue chuckled as the much smaller black attempted to steal the sack away. It would have been easy for him to just keep his jaws clamped shut over the toy, but it occurred to him that that would be extremely boring. While not exactly a clever creature, Orensk was pretty bright and could recognize boredom when he saw it. Whenever Kisk jumped back, the blue wher moved forward just a little, just enough to let the wherlet think he was winning. It was more fun than just standing sill anyway.
Kisk strong! Orensk not hold on much longer! he teased, urging the little black to continue playing just a little longer. A few more muffled clicks emerged as he tried to fit the name ‘Ausk’ to another wher. Not know Ausk. Ausk is nice?
Before he knew it, Oren was in an actual conversation. An actual proper dialogue between two people. “Mostly he got into bu---” he started to say The Word.
“Rrrrnk!” Orensk honked, quickly cutting off The Dreaded B-Word. Do not say! Do not want! Will come if they hear… the wher warned ominously, eyes whirling with worry at the very thought of an army of buckets stalking him and his Orensk’s. Unfortunately, his ‘brave’ warning honk meant that the sack had been released. But it was worth it, to stop Oren from summoning The Buckets.
Oren gave a long suffering sigh at the warning and tried again anyway. “B-U-C-K-E-T-S. He really does not like them. He used to think they were small caves and get stuck in them a lot. By the time he learned his lesson, that b… that those things that I just said are NOT caves, he learned the wrong lessons: that they are dangerous things intent on capturing all whers for their own nefarious purposes. Also, he dislikes that he can’t see when he has his head stuck in them.”
Once content that his warning had been taken to heart, Orensk refocused on the game and looked down at his own paws as though legitimately wondering where the sack had gone. Kisk clever! he whistled at the younger wher.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Jul 18, 2011 22:46:14 GMT -5
Kisk issued muffled bugles of triumph into the sack every time the blue seemed to move forwards. He trumpeted again and shook his head as though trying to wrest the sack from Orensk’s grip.
She MummyAusk. Kisk love! Kisk am first son!
He puffed his chest out and slackened his grip on the sack. He had been the first one to hatch out of all of those whers. He was the best! First to hatch and MummyAusk’s first son, there was nothing he wasn’t best at!
Kire looked at the man with some interest as he answered her question. Finally, she would know the answer to some of her questions. She had looked at so many of the other whers absolutely confused. How was it that they seemed so fierce and Kisk seemed so… Different? She knew that there were some like Kisk in their wherling group but he still seemed to struggle with some things.
She looked down at the blue wher with interest when Oren mentioned a ‘B’ word. She was curious when she spotted the worry whirling in the wher’s eyes. What on Pern…? Buckets? If she had ever been curious about anything in her life it was nothing compared to what she felt now.
“He got stuck in them?” She asked incredulous.
The only thing Kisk had ever been stuck in had been a hole whilst trying to crawl under a fence. The only thing about Kisk was that he didn’t seem to be able to remember any of it.
“Goodness, poor Orensk. How did you get him out?”
Kisk rolled backwards when Orensk let go of the sack and bugled with excitement. He was awesome! He had won this time!
Kisk am smart! Orensk too! Orensk smart too!
He shook the sack and then allowed Orensk to take it once more, pulling back on it excitedly.
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Post by ferret on Jul 19, 2011 1:30:40 GMT -5
Orensk burbled in response, mulling Kisk’s words over. All in all, the little wherling’s answer hadn’t been particularly descriptive. The large wher quieted down soon enough, as Oren reassured him that they could go meet Ausk later. Kisk first son? Orensk was last! The memories of his hatching were, admittedly, very hazy, but Orensk was very clear on certain details. With another happy chirp, he confided in Kisk. Orensk thought all good handlers were taken. Orensk wrong. Orensk chose best. Kisk choose good too!
Aaaaand there it was. The completely befuddled and baffled expression that Oren knew so very well. It always happened around his wher eventually, either because he managed to get his head stuck in a sack or because he was attempting to charge a bucket. In the tones of one very used to explaining this, Oren tried to retell the story. “Well… you see, when he was very, very tiny, I happened to put a b----.” He stopped and glanced at the playful wher. Orensk looked pretty distracted, but it was best to play it safe. He didn’t need a frightened wher kicking up a fuss. “A Thing That We Do Not Name down nearby him. I thought he might want to play with it, since his usual toy was being repaired. He was immediately interested in the Thing and eventually pushed it over on its side. He thought it was a cave and went inside, but he got stuck. I just used a lot of oil to get him back out. A lot.”
With the subject very firmly on whers, Oren was definitely calming down a little. His voice was smoother and he looked slightly less likely to immediately flee. Whers were definitely a safe topic, something he felt he could talk about. “It was cute at first, when he got stuck, but he was absolutely terrified. He honestly thought that the Thing was trying to eat him.”
Orensk sulked and snorted at his handler. Not Orensk’s fault he’s delicious… he grumbled darkly. Orensk fought off the Monster Of Darkness all on his own! He fought bravely! Orensk is great fighter!
“You ran into a wall, dear.”
…was an evil wall. Bah! Fine! Orensk didn’t want to talk to his anyway! He was having far more fun with the young wherling. Once again, Orensk picked up the other end of the sack and tugged back, this time with quite a lot of his strength.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
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Post by Boo on Jul 19, 2011 5:38:11 GMT -5
Kisk puffed his chest out once more in proud excitement. He knew he had chosen Best! Kire was best! It was why he had chosen her. Kire, Kisk, kiss! It seemed to fit perfectly, the words were all so similar and he was amazing for figuring it out! That was part of the reason he had chosen Kire and he’d had such a large choice being the first to hatch! One of the other blacks had beaten him to actually impressing but he didn’t care about that because he hadn’t wanted that one anyway. He wasn’t sure why Orensk’s eyes seemed to be whirling but he could only assume it was because he, Kisk, was winning their tug-of-sack!
Kisk have much big choice. Find best though! Only two siblings but many other whers! MummyAusk no want Kisk leave. She protect!
Kire looked at the blue with interest as Oren revealed the stories about the buckets. Kisk had not done anything like that, not really, but he had certainly done a whole lot of other things that were a little strange. Getting lost in the Lower Caverns and then found by their new Goldhandler had been one of the more worrying moments.
“Maybe it was trying to eat him! You never know what strange things exist on Pern.” Kire replied thoughtfully, “For all we know it was some sort of new, magical creature trying to trick you into thinking it was a buck… um You-Know-What just like the White-Furred Waste-Beast. I’d never even heard of one but one of the riders told me a story about it. It sounded absolutely ferocious!”
She shivered at the thought of buckets becoming beasts on Pern. Perhaps the invasion had already begun! She wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop them from eating more creatures, sneaking up on whers and eating their heads!
He tugged on the sack again and then, when it did not move, he tried something else. After a moment, Kisk dropped to the ground and then rolled towards the sack in an attempt to lie on it and make it more difficult for Orensk to pull. He gurgled triumphantly and looked at Orensk, wriggling like a worm, legs entrapped in the sack.
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Post by ferret on Jul 20, 2011 2:52:56 GMT -5
“Mrrooo!” Orensk rumbled, fully approving of Kisk’s choice. It would have been his typical ‘koo’ of pleasure, but found the noise muffled by the sack. “Mrff? Mrooo!” he tried again, slightly confused by the sudden voice change. For a wher who so dearly loved to hear himself speak, it was quite baffling. Orensk had many many clutchsibs! he said. In fact, the blue only had two siblings, but it sounded far more impressive if he claimed there were lots more. Many wanted Orensk’s. They not get him. Orensk’s is Orensk’s.
It certainly wasn’t the first time Oren had been taken off-guard and wasn’t certain how to respond to things. That was, more or less, his daily life. But this was the first time someone had actually agreed with Orensk’s theory that buckets were secret monsters in disguise and were infiltrating Weyrs so they could attack unwary whers. Unwhery was the word Orensk used to describe the situation. The blue wherhandler blinked at Kire, trying to figure out if she was just joking or not.
“Krawww!” came the wher’s triumphant noise. See?! See?! Kisk’s clever! Kisk’s smart! Kisk’s knows! he said, stamping at the ground in agitation. Orensk’s is stupid for not believing Orensk…
Oh, hush, Orensk. If b… those items-that-must-not-be-named were really going to come alive and eat everyone in sight, then they would have done it already. Actually, now that Oren thought about it, there was a distinct lack of buckets around the Weyr. Every place needed buckets somehow, but, for some reason, there were none in sight… how very odd… “The white-waisted what?” he asked helplessly, wondering if there was some sort of dangerous creature out there. The West Continent was basically one great big mystery to him. “I haven’t heard anything about this thing yet.”
The blue wher grumbled at Oren’s words, not believing any of them. He loved his handler, he really truly did, but he was so… Orensk’s! Even when the little black was sitting on the sack, Orensk had little trouble hauling it along. “Grnk?” the wher asked curiously, before pulling even harder, inadvertently creating the new sport of wher-pulling. Or possibly some sort of primitive wher-sled.
“Mreee!” he gleed, all thoughts of buckets leaving his mind for the time being as he tried to pull Kisk faster. It meant walking backwards, but Orensk was fine with that.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
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Post by Boo on Jul 20, 2011 18:03:29 GMT -5
Kire nodded seriously. If there was one thing about the young black wherling it was that she would believe just about anything she was told. Especially when it was told by someone clearly in a position of power, like F’reki of blue Girieth. He had certainly told her some terrifying stories about his travels. Hopefully she would have the chance to find out her own stories to tell eventually. She was sure that some people would be interested in her time as a dolphineer but the stories she thought of never seemed fascinating enough to bother someone with.
“Oh yes, a bluerider F’reki was telling me that he fought with it! It sounded so terrifying! So maybe the… Ah, You-Know-Whats are actually something else entirely. I mean, years ago maybe even dragons were a rarity on Pern!” Kire looked at Orensk for a moment, “Maybe even whers were strange creatures once upon a time.”
She highly doubted that anyone could consider whers strange they were all just so natural and, in Kisk’s and Orensk’s case, adorable! Some of them were a little more fearsome than others but most of them were really sweet deep down. They just had to be fierce for the people in the Weyr to protect them from harm.
Kisk gurgled with excitement as the much larger blue started pulling him along. He wriggled in the sack and looked at Orensk, tongue lolling out of his mouth. This was fun! With each tug, Kisk rolled about accompanied with more gurgling, which seemed to sound more like giggling each time.
Orensk strong. This fun! Orensk want try? Kisk pull Orensk! Kisk strong! Orensk have game fun? Kisk am… ROLYPOLY!!! He bugled triumphantly at the rhyming words and then waggled his body again, Find bigger! Pull Orensk’s and Kisk’s! It be fun!
Kisk had just about forgotten about their former game and was now convinced he would be able to drag Orensk along the ground just as the blue was him. What was more was that pulling BestKire along seemed like an entirely plausible concept! After all, Kisk was very strong!
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Post by ferret on Jul 20, 2011 19:29:43 GMT -5
Dubious Oren was extremely dubious, but his knowledge of the Western Continent was limited to, ‘it’s in the west and it’s a continent’. Sure, he lived in Crescent Hold for a while before choosing to relocate to Dalibor Weyr, but that was different. There was no telling what sort of creatures lived out there in the wilds. “But wouldn’t we have noticed if the Things-that-must-not-be-named were secretly evil beings bent on the destruction of us all? I mean, they’ve been around forever,” Oren asked, giving the conversation a much needed injection of logic.
It was then that Oren realized that he might very well be the most sane and stable one in the group consisting of a puppy of a wher, a wher who behaved more like a canine, and a girl who believed everything she heard. Well, we’re in trouble, he thought to himself as the weight of the knowledge settled on his low self-esteem.
“Chrprprp…” Orensk clicked to himself thoughtfully as he compared himself to the little black wher. It didn’t take a genius to spot the size differences between them and Orensk knew that Kisk wouldn’t be able to pull him around, but the poor little black wherling looked so utterly delighted at the idea! It was impossible to say ‘no’ to that little face. He would find a way to make it work!
Kisk very strong! he said encouragingly, carefully straddling the sack so his legs were on either side of it. Maybe if he was very clever, he could simply walk while Kisk dragged the sack around? It was far from the best plan in the world, but Orensk was certain it would work! It would let Kisk feel like he really was being the best of the best whers ever!
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Boo
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Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
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Post by Boo on Jul 21, 2011 5:53:54 GMT -5
Kire pondered that for a moment. Buckets had been around for quite some time so it certainly seemed unlikely that they were nefarious beings out to destroy them all… But then, she wouldn’t have thought the White-Furred Waste-Beast was a real creature but there was a Wingrider in the Weyr who happened to have fought one and lived to tell the tale! She would just have to find a bucket and examine it with care to discover the truth of the strange bucket mystery.
“Well, next time I see one I shall examine it and report my findings back to you or Orensk,” Kire stated with a serious tone, “and, of course, I will be sure to keep it away from Kisk. I wouldn’t want him being harmed by the Things whether or not they are alive.”
Nodding firmly she looked about as though a bucket may actually be nearby. Come to think of it she didn’t see all that many buckets around the Weyr at all. In fact, the last time she had seen one she had been on kitchen duty. There really should have been more about. Perhaps they were all collaborating and trying to rally their forces for an attack. Shuddering at the thought she pushed it from her mind. This was all quite insane! She wasn’t crazy.
Kisk wriggled out of the sack in excitement and skipped around to get ready to grab the sack. He was awesome after all! Amazing Investigator as His had said so that naturally meant he could do anything! Even drag another Wher about like a firelizard! He gurgled happily and then ducked down, legs apart to steady himself. He would, after all, be able to pull Orensk so quickly that he, Kisk, would probably go flying backwards!
Orensk ready?
He giggle-gurgled once more and then gripped the cloth sack and with an almighty pull he yanked backwards on the sack, eyes closed with the effort. He’d not thought it would be this difficult!
Kisk! What are you doing!?
Kisk am pull Orensk! New game! Exciting!!
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Post by ferret on Jul 21, 2011 19:24:00 GMT -5
The silence stretched out like a sleepy cat, digging its claws into the moment as Oren tried to figure out whether or not Kire was being serious. She certainly sounded serious, as solemn as anything, but at the same time… well, the idea was just absurd. Although, it would explain why all those buckets are missing, he thought to himself. With a scoff, he brushed the thought from his mind. Apparently, insanity was contagious. “Yeah… I mean, I think it depends on how strong their mining instinct is,” he flustered, trying to say this without saying that Kisk was mentally challenged. “Orensk has got a very strong mining instinct. He wants to go down into tunnels and caves.”
Apparently, Kisk’s overriding instinct was to be absolutely adorable. Oren watched in mild bemusement as the little black wher took the sack in his mouth and started to pull it. In fact, he pulled it very fast, almost too fast for Orensk to keep up. The large blue had to waddle quickly to keep the sack between his legs. All in all, it was one of the more awkward sights the miner had seen before.
Err. Not counting the time when Orensk got stuck under a blanket, of course.
“You know, if we could get some big browns and bronzes involved, I bet we could fix up some sort of cart,” he suggested weakly. And then he had a mental image of a very large and angry wher being asked to carry people around. “…or not. I think whers cause enough destruction without having wheels attached.”
Kisk very strong! Orensk said with an encouraging, “Ree!” as the little black dragged the sack around. He kept a close blue eye on the little wher, just waiting for Kisk to try opening his. Then he’d jump back on the sack quickly. “Krkrk,” the blue said, inwardly congratulating himself on being so sharding clever. Kisk want another ride? Reward for strong wher-Kisk!
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Jul 22, 2011 4:12:11 GMT -5
Convinced, as she was that buckets were really diabolical beings out to get them, the one intelligent brain cell in Kire’s mind told her she was being a little naïve. Unfortunately, this brain cell had long since been silenced by her less logical brain cells and the moment the thought popped into her head it was gone. She came to understand that this was how the Things wanted her to think! They probably wished to trick all of them into believing they were innocent inanimate objects… At that moment Kire became aware of the silence and smiled awkwardly. Was it something she had said?
Apparently not for Oren spoke again. She had never thought that Kisk might be best suited to mining. Looking down at the black she was fairly sure he would enjoy spending time in the tunnels but he was also an amazing investigator! She had seen it numerous times not and suffered because of it. He may not have the best memory but Kire was convinced he had the best nose. Perhaps he needed only tell the other handlers and whers what he could smell.
She followed Oren’s gaze back to the strange sight of Kisk ‘pulling’ Orensk along on the sack. Apparently the blue was being kind to Kisk, making him feel stronger than he was.
“Oh yes, we could create a sport of it! Even if the larger whers do not wish to join it could help the smaller whers develop more strength,” She paused before considering his prior statement about mining, “But, um, did Orensk ever spend time in the mines?”
Kisk was shocked! He truly was amazing! He was pulling the sack along easier than he could SmallPinkThing! He snuffled into the sack and waggled his body, continuing to pull it along triumphantly. He kept his eyes closed for the moment, expecting to feel tired the more he pulled it along. When Orensk spoke to him his eyes shot open and he gurgled his cheerful response, waggling his body again.
Yupyupyup! Kisk am strong! Have ride! Really?
He bounced his way in a circle, dropping the cloth sack and noticing nothing amiss with the blue. He trotted his way over to the other end and looked back at His and Orensk’s with a lolling tongue contributing to a very stupid looking expression.
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Post by ferret on Jul 22, 2011 5:44:16 GMT -5
“It’s always useful for whers to develop more strength,” Oren said, feeling foolish for saying it. It felt like the right thing to say but, at the same time, it was sort of… well… stupid. It was like saying that the sky was sky today. It was completely and patently obvious. Still, it was a good idea, especially for the little wherlets. “Maybe we should bring this idea to the Alpha Wherhandler.” Like shards he would do it on his own! Conversation with a normal person was difficult enough and, in his experience, alpha wherhandlers tended to be very rough-and-tumble sort of people.
A feeling of relief swept over him and he couldn’t help the gratitude in his eyes when Kire switched subjects again. Mining was safe. He knew mining. “Y-yeah. I’m a miner,” he said awkwardly. “With the next Pass coming up quick, I thought it would be a good idea to get down to a Weyr. Lots of firestone that needs to be gathered.” He perked up considerably as he added, “And Orensk is very good at finding firestone. He likes going down into caves and smelling it out. He has a vocabulary of almost thirty words and can understand a few hundred. He’s even gone between once.”
His own achievements were nothing compared to the wher’s as far as Oren was concerned. Besides, it was an impressive outline for a wher. Shards, most humans got along on less than that. Smiling fondly at the whers playing, he added, “You should look into it, if it interests you. Mining isn’t very clean, but it’s solid work. Um. It keeps the whers busy too. Orensk thinks of it as a grand adventure. He’s even used the word ‘quest’ a few times, although I’m not sure where he got that word from.”
“Krkrkrk…” Orensk clicked to himself, his version of chuckling as Kisk pulled the sack along. As soon as those eyes shot open, the blue quickly sat back down on the sack once more and tried to look as innocent as a wher could. For comparison, he looked every bit as guilty as a pet feline by an empty firelizard cage. Or a small child with cookie crumbs on his clothes next to an empty plate. Once again, the complete and utter feeling of pride surged through the bond to Oren. Orensk felt extremely clever at the moment.
Sit on thing, Orensk said, gently nudging his head against Kisk to urge him to sit down on the sack. Once again, the blue wher grabbed the other end in his jaws, perfectly prepared to pull the little wherlet around once more.
“They’re very cute, aren’t they?” Oren spoke again.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Jul 24, 2011 17:21:19 GMT -5
The word that stuck with Kire the most was Between. She had never been Between herself but never truly wanted to. Sending Kisk was a thought that worried her more than considering going there herself. She was so worried that he might get lost and never come back to her. If it came down to it in lessons she would simply request for him not to go. Audren would never make the Wherlings do something they weren’t confident about would she? Kire supposed not but there were more people who had been lost in that place than she cared to consider.
“It’s so dark in the mines,” she frowned at the statement, “What was it like going Between for him?”
She looked down at Orensk as though searching for some recognition of the word in the Wher’s eyes. Perhaps it was an instinct with whers just as it was with firelizards. On a number of occasions she had spotted Vesta reappearing in their world during the day. It was surprising that she actually seemed to be able to stay awake even. It was odd that she didn’t worry so much about Vesta going as she did Kisk. Then again, she was also not able to feel every single one of Vesta’s emotions as she did the black wher.
Kisk sit? Here?
He gurgled once more and then plopped himself down on the sack watching the older wher with something like adoration in his eyes. Orensk was nearly as best as BestKire! He had yet to meet another Wher who liked most of the same things as he did! There were only a few of his siblings and clutchfriends that were like Orensk. Not nearly enough in Kisk’s opinion! Only Hessk he considered fun, the others were boring.
Yet, in spite of all that he would still try to play with each and every one of them whenever he met them. BossKalesk was tough to play games with but he would get there one day. Soon enough she would play with him! They all would!
Kisk am sit!! GOGOGO!!!
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Post by ferret on Jul 24, 2011 19:51:23 GMT -5
The word appeared to have little effect on the playful blue wher, who seemed far more interested in the black wherlet now that the topic had shifted away from ‘buckets’. Orensk clicked approvingly as Kisk sat down and once again grabbed the sack to pull it around. Kisk faster than Orensk! Much strong! he said, chuckling into the mouthful of sackcloth.
“He didn’t like it, if that’s what you mean,” Oren said, his eyes falling on the whers playing together. They looked so innocent compared to the rest of their rather aggressive and brutal kind. That went doubly so for the black wherlet. “He says it was dark and cold an---”
It was the Nothing, Orensk reported to Oren, cutting into the wherhandler’s thought. Dark, deep and lost. No warmth, no life, no anything. It is Nothing. Lurks in The Things. carefully, he kept these thoughts shielded from the younger wher, not wanting to scare him. Still, there was little the large blue could do about the slight yellow tinge to his eyes.
“He really doesn’t like it,” Oren started again, once he was done being startled by his own wher. It wasn’t often that Orensk was quite so… articulate or poetic. But, sometimes the wher could surprise people, connecting rather abstract ideas in new ways. It certainly explained a lot about his fear of buckets. “He thinks it’s… just not alive. It’s very cold and Orensk automatically connects warmth to life. It’s a place of death, he says, and he only goes there if he absolutely must. It’s also why he’s a little wary around cold water, I think. It’s too cold and dark to him, but it moves like it should be alive. It confuses him.”
Alright, so that part wasn’t necessarily true; Oren’s mouth was just, once again, working on automatic. It just wasn’t easy to explain. “Er. He’s also somewhat convinced that this… Nothing, as he calls it, is the same thing that lurks in those Things That Should Not Be Mentioned. I don’t know how he came to that conclusion. Maybe he got his nose wet in a water b… thing.” Course, none of that explained why Orensk didn’t mind going underground if the lack of warmth bothered him so much.
And Orensk wasn’t going to talk about it anymore either. The wher’s mental voice clamped shut and he focused on just playing with Kisk. It was far more fun.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Jul 25, 2011 21:25:10 GMT -5
Kire listened with rapt attention. In all her years in a Weyr there were few who had explained going Between in such depth. Sure, she’d heard enough comments about how dark and pressing it felt in that place but she’d never thought of it in this sense. That it was alive somehow. Perhaps not so much that it was alive but rather that it was in a state of not living. Her thoughts confused even her and she shook them from her mind.
Shuddering at the thoughts of such a place she tried to think of something else. Sure, it was interesting enough to talk about but hearing someone liken it to water was something else entirely. She had been a dolphineer and spending time under the water had never bothered her. Perhaps it should have? Alternatively, maybe she had nothing to fear from the dark embrace of Between.
“I used to be a dolphineer so I guess that I can understand some of that. I mean, the water was always dark and mysterious but it was also warm. There was always life around in the fish and the dolphins. Perhaps that was only because I was with the dolphins though. As for the… Things… I can understand that.”
She rarely spoke about her time as a dolphineer merely because she found other people’s lives more fascinating than talking about her own but Oren likening water to Between had struck a chord with her. Never had it crossed her mind that water may be dangerous in some way. The buckets, on the other hand, she understood. Personally, she hated being stuck in really small places.
Much strong! Much strong Orensk! Pull Kisk! Muchly stronger than all!!
Kisk’s tail thumped enthusiastically against the ground completely oblivious to what His was talking about. He was far more interested in the game they had made up together.
Play big game! All whers play!
Kisk was thoroughly excited at the concept of introducing their game to all of the other whers in the Weyr.
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Post by ferret on Jul 25, 2011 23:48:59 GMT -5
A dolphineer? Oren tried not to look surprised, but the expression just looked so natural on his features. Of course, he knew that there were dolphineers around; they were those folks who, oddly enough, splashed around with shipfish all the time. That was, more or less, the limit of his interest in them, at least until someone managed to breed aquatic whers. It just seemed… well, pretty much like the exact opposite of whers, about as far from away from the primal creatures as you could get. Then again, dolphins were supposed to be pretty playful. Kisk certainly fell into that category.
“What made you change Crafts? Err. If you don’t mind sharing, that is. I mean, it just seems like dolphineer and wherhandler are from complete opposite sides. One is in the water and a pretty elegant creature and the other is on land and… well… this,” he said, waving a hand over at Orensk and Kisk at play. Alright, so maybe they weren’t the best examples of their kind: both were extremely playful and rather harmless compared to the rest of their primal kind.
Orensk huffed slightly. As small as Kisk was, it wasn’t easy dragging him around on the sack. Needs spinny things on bottom, the wher said thoughtfully. Pull much easier. Maybe push? Curiously, the wher walked over to the other side and attempted to push the sack instead. It… didn’t work nearly as well, due to the fabric simply bunching up. “Krrooo,” Orensk said sadly, drooping just a little.
He perked up quickly through and went back to pulling Kisk around. Much fun, he agreed, his mind full of images of whers happily playing together.
Oren caught the edges of the thought and smiled a little sadly. It was hopelessly naiive of Orensk to hope for peaceful playtime; most whers were quite deserving of their rather vicious reputation. It wasn't even that they were vicious; they just spoke another language. A language that largely involved growling and snarling and biting each other. Expecting them to behave otherwise was just silly. Although Oren certainly hoped that they could breed back to calmer creatures, ones that wouldn't have to be culled if they didn't Impress.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Jul 26, 2011 21:23:13 GMT -5
Dolphineering had been fun enough but Kire had always been drawn more to the Whers ever since she had found out that her father was a handler. Of course, being a child of the Weyr, she had never truly had a lot to do with her father him being a handler and she, well, a child who needed to be awake during the day. Often she wondered whether she might have had a closer relationship with her parents had he been a rider. Then she generally forgot about it, content with her choices in life.
“Well, my father was a bluehandler and I had always been interested in what he did. Becoming a dolphineer was just something I did with my sister, ah, my twin. I guess it was just something that interested me but when the opportunity came to stand for whers I volunteered my services. I’m glad I did too or else I might never have found Kisk.”
She looked down at her wher fondly as he continued to thump his tail on the ground with excitement. Kisk wasn’t what she had been expecting out of a wher but he was certainly everything she could have asked for. Maybe, if they really worked together things would get a little easier for her.
Spinny things? That fun! Not see. Want see!
Kisk’s head turned and followed Orensk as the blue walked around to the other side of the sack and giggled-gurgled when he couldn’t push it, rolling about in elation.
It no move! Maybe put whers under! All walk together… Like flying!
If all the whers carried the sack then perhaps they could all fly! He waggled his wings under his body and then rolled back to sit on the sack once more. He waggled his tail again.
Orensk can fly!? he waggled his wings again, Kisk and Orensk fly!?
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Post by ferret on Jul 28, 2011 16:09:09 GMT -5
Dolphineering plus the opportunity to Impress whers… that meant that Kire was probably from Crescent, Oren realized, like himself. He didn’t recognize the girl, but that wasn’t so surprising; he wasn’t exactly the most social person in the world. If it wasn’t for Orensk always getting into trouble, he’d probably never get out at all. “Are you from Crescent Hold?” he asked politely, because jumping to conclusions usually missed the correct answer completely. And then you would just end up with great big puddles of mess on your leg or something. The analogy sort of fell apart there.
The miner kept most of his attention focused on the whers, watching carefully to make sure that the large blue was playing nicely with the tiny black. By nature, Orensk wasn’t an aggressive creature, but he was so much bigger than the wherlet. Orensk caught the edge of concern in Oren’s mind and snorted. Orensk careful. Orensk good wher. he rumbled.
At the question of ‘spinny things’, Orensk did his very best to visualize a wagon as seen from a wher’s point of view, all spokes and high places, pulled by runnerbeasts. Although, in the blue’s mind, the runnerbeasts were… a little off. For one thing, they had stitches and big button eyes and silly floppy limbs. Orensk was vaguely aware that real runners didn’t look exactly like Rrssk, but this was the best he could come up with. Pulls things from mines! Heavy rocks. Maybe whers too? mentally, he replaced the ‘runners’ with whers instead, all looking very pleased to pull other whers around.
It sounded like a great fun time when you ignored things like facts and logic.
“Krrrooo…” Orensk tilted his head to one side before shaking it. No flight, not yet. Want fly. Will fly. Kisk and Orensk will fly! And who was to say that they couldn’t? His malformed wings beat, but refused to lift him off the ground, but the blue wasn’t put off by this. He was not a creature who would bow easily to silly things like failures.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Jul 29, 2011 1:47:55 GMT -5
”I was at Crescent Hold for a little while as an apprentice but I moved there from Ista. I know it’s something of a leap but I was accepted there as an apprentice so that’s where I went. My sister came with me.”
Not entirely certain why she had felt the need to justify herself, Kire cleared her throat anxiously. Now that she actually thought about it Ista was a long way from Crescent and it was only because she had heard that the Hold was a newer one in need of more people to be, well, apprentices. She had only spent a few turns there but it had been fun. Perhaps one day she would return to the craft and continue her studies with Kisk’s help! He was really smart after all!
If Kisk had ever been excited before now it was nothing compared to the excitement he was showing at the image of ‘spinny things’ he had begun thumping his tail on the ground again as he sat there, head cocked to the side. He bugled and jumped to his feet. He really liked the thought of whers pulling things and having a whole heap of fun! Only the spinney things seemed a little large to put on a sack. Kisk waggled his body again in excitement.
We all run! Run fast! Take others with! Can run. Spinney and race! Kisk am best run, win race with siblings!
Waggling his whole spindly body again at the memory of winning his race he gurgled at Orensk, watching him flap his wings.
Orensk fly!? KISK FLY!!!
He started bouncing up and down on the spot, flapping his wings uselessly, eyes closed with concentration and effort.
AM FLY!?
Giggle-gurgling once more he didn’t stop his bouncing and flapping of his wings.
Orensk try again!?
Kire looked over to see Kisk bouncing about like a maniac and widened her eyes. She’d heard he was trying to fly but this was just ridiculous… She stifled a giggle and looked at Orensk who had also tried to flap his wings.
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Post by ferret on Jul 29, 2011 23:54:14 GMT -5
“I’m not judging,” Oren said quickly. Just after the words left his lips, he realized that, by the very virtue of saying that, it made it sound like he was judging. Shards, talking to others was so hard! With a muttered ‘shards and shells’, he ran a hand through his hair and tried to compose himself. “I just meant that I’m from Crescent too. Well, not originally. I was born in this little cothold outside of Tillek, but I moved to Crescent just because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I was just a teenager then and I might’ve been drinking a little when I made that decision.” Which was probably why it had seemed like such a good idea at the time. He didn’t mean to talk so much, but words were a little bit like broken faucets for Oren; once you got them started, it was difficult to twist them off again. He shrugged helplessly and smiled wanly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he repeated again.
Although, looking at Orensk, he knew it had been the very best decision he ever made. Without it, he wouldn’t have Impressed to the large blue wher and then what he would have been? Probably living a quieter life, he realized, one without Rrssks, rnnks, sssks, and all the other little words Orensk had made up to communicate with Oren. And it would have been a lot sadder too.
“Krkrk!” Orensk clacked in excitement and agreed completely with Kisk. This sounded like an amazing idea! A lot less fighting among whers and a lot more peaceful playing. Yes, that was much, much better than the aggressive ‘play’ that most whers preferred, red in tooth and claw. Ask Ausk! Ohh, the added alliterative appeal pleased Orensk. He let out an appreciative whistle at his own words, feeling very clever indeed. If he had thought further, he might have realized that, since Ausk had only laid three eggs, she wasn’t a gold wher.
But that was thinking too much.
As Kisk attempted to fly, Orensk whistled and cheered the little black wherlet on, crowing encouragement. The chances of Kisk getting airborne were approximately the same as the sudden invention of a sort of fire that burns without exploding cave gas, but that was alright because it just might happen. The blue wher was an optimistic creature at heart, always willing to hope when there wasn’t any. His own wings flapped powerfully, causing little gusts of wind, but little else.
In his mind, he glided beautifully, over the mountains and over the seas, into the vast world that he couldn’t even imagine.
In reality, he just sort of hopped in place, like an exceedingly awkward frog. “Rrrrrrnnnnk!” he wailed. No fly! Why no fly? Why wings no work?
“…We can ask dragons how they learn?” Oren suggested weakly. “They must have training techniques of some sort. Like… like some sort of wing strengthening exercise. I bet that’s it, Orensk. You just need to strengthen your wings first.”
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