Entry tags:
Open | Life is just a troubled sea
WHO: Colin + You
WHAT: Open post for Haring
WHEN: Throughout the month
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: If you would like a starter, let me know.
WHAT: Open post for Haring
WHEN: Throughout the month
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: If you would like a starter, let me know.
I. Eyrie
No one here has yet been eaten by a griffon, but there's a first time for everything.
They're big. They're all so, so big, and they look hungry, and one of them is literally drooling. Fortunately, most of them are ignoring the normal-sized healer as he creeps about two feet into the eyrie, then stands there frozen. Is this a bad idea? This is a bad idea. Animals can smell fear, and these animals have sharp claws and sharp beaks and sharp talons. Thing is, these animals could mean life or death to a wounded ally. Moreover, he's learned a thing or two about himself from these bizarre dreams, and the most important of those things is that he's not as normal and boring as he has striven to be all his life. His instinct to hide from all things remotely heroic isn't as important as his curiosity, and when faced with both fear and wonder, he's going to try to act on the wonder.
That is, until one large, glossy, black griffon comes up behind him and nudges his elbow gently, at which point he chokes on a squawk and stumbles away from it. It follows. He bumps into another griffon, which makes an annoyed sound. Eventually he remembers to stand still. The black griffon approaches him and gives his shoulder a tiny headbutt. Colin turns positively grey. It gives his hand the gentlest of nips and Colin squeaks, backing away again.
II. Closed to Alexandrie
The doorman doesn't even have time to announce Lexie's guest before Colin is storming up to her. She has never seen him this angry, not even during their recent fight.
"You won't believe the conversation I just had," he snarls at the same time as the doorman stammers "A-apothecary Colin, my lady."
III. Obligatory workplace setting prompt
It's the apothecary. Maybe Colin is bottling potions and tinctures. Maybe he is sweeping. Maybe he is compounding various herbs. Maybe he is cooking lunch over the fireplace. Maybe he has run out of things to do and is sketching in a book. Come bother him.
IV. Wildcard

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"What would you have done if I'd died?" he asks.
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"You wouldn't have," she makes a point to say first, then considers it. "But I guess I would've been sad about it and made sure the griffons all got to their pens once they were done eating you."
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"Okay, okay, break it up--" She scoops up the catnip, shouldering aside some of the more feisty griffons and shooing away the others, but of course once the herb is in hand, that's what they gravitate to. But the good thing about the griffons is: they're all trained. So all it takes is a little authority to keep them in check. "Artichoke, you first. Blanche. Hugo, come on."
One by one, she gets them back in order, throwing a sprig of catnip each into their pens and closing the gates behind them. All, of course, except Chawcey (who doesn't seem to care about catnip or misbehaving) and Sunbeam.
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"She's...actually quite pretty," he decides. "I'd need to train her to fly very still, if she's going to carry wounded. I don't even know how to go about doing that."
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Athessa pats Sunbeam idly on her way to stand before Colin and makes a face at his closed off posture. "I mean just look at you, I bet even your ass-cheeks are tense right now."
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But the way Sunbeam reveled in the catnip like a kitten was anything but threatening. And she is pretty. He reaches out to place a hand on her...cheek? Against black feathers. Her head moves and he jumps, hand jerking back on reflex before he finds himself again and reaches out to stroke up her brow-bone. The weight of it makes her look permanently displeased, he can't help but think. Another thought occurs to him: the same may be observed by an enemy. Which would make Sunbeam...sort of a protector. The creature, for a moment, is transformed before him by that thought alone.
"Good girl," he murmurs to her.
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"Nah, one whole dead from one whole animal. But at least griffons are smart; horses can be dumbshits that spook at puddles, but griffons are more like...partners in crime. Too smart for their own good sometimes, ya know?"
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"Bit less of that, please," he says as if she's a mabari. "I really am smaller than you."
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She finds Chawcey, who pops up when she approaches, clearly ready for whatever demonstration she's about to give. Athessa gives him a hearty scratch, just like she told Colin to do, and the grey griffon soon starts leaning the same way Sunbeam did, though a bit more shoulder than neck.
"Yeah that's a good boy, huh. Who's a good bird-brain?" She, smaller than Colin both in height and weight, soon has far more griffon bearing down on her than she's able to support, and she plants her feet and shoves Chawcey with her shoulder. "Ok, ease off, dummy." Clearly, it isn't the force that Athessa uses to shove the griffon off, but the attitude. Chawcey stops leaning, trading one form of affection for another: nudging her with the top of his head. She gives him more scritches as she looks back to Colin.
"See? You gotta be the one in charge."
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"Stop," he barks, using his shoulder and the strength of his legs to push her away. She does so without a fuss, simply pivoting to nip at his arm. This causes Colin to rocket back about six feet, confidence melting away like a snowflake in a blast furnace.
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