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Post by Unokins on May 21, 2015 2:15:39 GMT
Big baby, Gale said with a snort, eating the offered organs himself. They were slimy, squishy, and settled weird in his stomach. But it was meat, and it would keep him going. Don't start fire here. Too close. Walk more. Further out. Night. Eat in night. Hunt again.
And with that, he tore into the rabbit with a gusto, leaving scraps of meat, skin, and fur behind. Licking his face, he wiped his hands on his chest, and stood, full and properly energized. He bounced, wanting to move. Go now.
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Post by Buggy on May 21, 2015 2:50:48 GMT
Those slurping, squishing noises were hard to ignore, but Omaron did his best. And to his credit he only felt like vomiting once.
"Fine, I'll eat later, whatever you say." He followed the dripping, bloody, naked child with a certain amount of resentment. "And on that note I am not a baby."
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Post by Unokins on May 21, 2015 2:55:44 GMT
Gale snorted, and shrugged. Civilized monster won't do good out here being picky, Gale retorted as he marched on, Rook stumping along by Omaron's side. A smile was still on its face, and it hummed. This was normal behavior from its friend. But the child fell silent, not having much else to say to the man. They had to walk. And Gale had to pay attention. He knew all too well that Omaron wouldn't. Or couldn't. One of the two.
He hopped ahead, doubled back, and leapt in trees, sniffing, probing, and sneaking. Rook chittered and chirped, and Rook twittered and whistled his replies. The scaled monsters kept Omaron informed as best it could. Safe. Safe. Safe. Squirrel! Safe.
Soon, however, the sun bean to fall. And Gale's energy began to flag. His head was hurting a little and it was about time to sleep. He hopped down, landing in front of Omaron. I hunt. You fire. Rook... Rook.
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Post by Buggy on May 21, 2015 3:13:39 GMT
Omaron had put his shirt back on a while ago, as it was almost completely dry. He could feel his nose getting burned from the sun, and Rook's chittering had long since turned into meaningless background noise in his ears. His feet felt about ready to fall off.
Then Gale dropped in front of him, and he stepped back. He didn't have the energy to be surprised. "Okay, I'll... yeah. Go get food. And put your pants on." He dropped Gale's pants on his head before turning off into a patch of dead grass. He could do this.
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Post by Unokins on May 21, 2015 3:47:14 GMT
"Buh," Gale spat. But he picked up his pants and shimmied them on anyway. They were still damp. But his legs had the added protection against thorns and prickers. So he was happy. Be back soon, he said as he stalked off into the undergrowth, sniffing and twitching his ears.
Rook came to Omaron's side, chittering quietly as it watched. Curiosity was clear in its eyes. "What do." It said, walking around Omaron's other side, head bobbing and tilting. "What do?"
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Post by Buggy on May 21, 2015 4:04:42 GMT
"I'm going to start a fire," Omaron told Rook a little shortly, not because he was upset but because he was tired. "Just watch. And make sure there's no one coming."
He gathered some dead grass and dead leaves, along with a piece of bark and a good sized stick. He used his knife to make a little dip in the bark, piled the kindling in and around it, then stuck the stick in it and began spinning it very fast.
"One of the boys in the orphanage taught me how to do this, a long time ago," he said a bit absently. Would Rook understand? Probably not, but it didn't matter. After a considerable amount of time, effort, and blowing, he soon had a stream of smoke coming up from the stick. He fed the fire more kindling and some larger sticks, and soon enough it was a little fire worthy of cooking on.
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Post by Unokins on May 21, 2015 4:07:15 GMT
Rook watched, mouth held open slightly. It watched Omaron work, listening carefully. "Or..." It paused, humming to itself as the fire was crackling. As Omaron worked, it babbled to itself, looking frustrated. "Orphanage..." It got out finally. "Orphanage?" It twittered, head tilted to the side.
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Post by Buggy on May 21, 2015 4:10:47 GMT
Omaron plopped on his rear next to the fire, exhausted but satisfied. "Yes, very good Rook. I used to live in one." He wasn't sure why he kept talking to Rook. Perhaps it was just because the creature seemed to like listening. "Orphanages are for people without parents, or whose parents don't want them."
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Post by Unokins on May 21, 2015 4:13:42 GMT
Rook sat close to Omaron. Probably a little too close. It's tail wrapped around him, the tip tapping the ground near his leg. Its ears twitched as Gale returned, two rabbits in hand. He had more blood on his front, but this time the rabbits were motionless, and not in his mouth.
"P-Parents," Rook said. "Parents?" What were they. All these new words and this nice praise. It was great.
But at the word, Gale snarled quietly. He plopped down by the fire, warming himself as he began to tear bits of meat free from the carcasses.
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Post by Buggy on May 21, 2015 4:19:05 GMT
Omaron gave Rook a quizzical look but didn't push it away. It was somewhere between having a child climb in your lap and being sniffed by an over-eager dog. "Parents, yes." He looked up at the quiet snarl and saw Gale. "Ah, good. I actually made a skewer here, and I've hardened it in the fire. I could cook yours too if you like."
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Post by Unokins on May 21, 2015 4:39:55 GMT
Gale nodded quietly. Parents. Family. There was bad memories there. People taking advantage of you and using a word called love as justification. It was stupid and Gale hated parents. At Omaron's question, he nodded surly, and began passing him big chunks of meat. Rarely, had he been able to eat his food cooked. raw meat or slop was his usual fare. So this would be interesting.
Rook looked frustrated. Yes, parents. But what were they? It made a noise, and rubbed its head in its hand. "Parents, parents, parents," it repeated, thinking hard. "Parents what do." Was that it? Surely, it had to be close, at least.
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Post by Buggy on May 21, 2015 12:24:12 GMT
Omaron gingerly took the bloodied chunks and slid them onto the skewer. At Rook's question his brow furrowed. "Parents are supposed to raise you and keep you safe. Some of them do that, but sometimes they just leave you on the steps of an orphanage and run off, or worse." He examined his skewer, frowning, and put a few more chunks of meat onto it. "That's what my birth mother did. I don't really blame her for it, given the circumstances. But I've got a new set of parents now, and they've done a fair job at taking care of me I think."
Satisfied with the arrangement and spacing of meat on the stick, he held it out over the fire. "So. Parents care for you Rook."
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Post by Unokins on May 21, 2015 22:47:34 GMT
Rook listened raptly, mouth hanging open and eyes blinking slowly. It tilted its head and made little "Oooooh," noises when Omaron finished talking.
Gale shook his head. Too much words, he said, watching the fire as he dug his toes into the dirt. Rook not understand. Having spent so much time with the creature, Gale could read it easily. And the look said Rook was having trouble keeping up. Rook tired. Not understand words. It was late, the sun having set, casting darkness in the woods. Shadows danced beyond the meager fire, and the leaves rustled ominously in the wind.
Food done? Hungry. Gale shifted anxiously, watching the meat sizzle and spit over the flames.
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Post by Buggy on May 21, 2015 23:21:07 GMT
Omaron glanced over at Gale. It was interesting, how easily Gale seemed to communicate with Rook. Perhaps it was because of the amount of time they'd spent together.
"I didn't really think he was following along," he replied mildly. "I just thought he liked listening to me talk, so... I kept going. Ah, here." He pulled the skewer back over the fire and offered it to Gale. The boy still had dried blood down his front. Crouching there, he reminded Omaron of a stray dog waiting anxiously to see if a child was going to throw a rock at it or offer it food.
"Er, if you don't mind... could I ask you a personal question?"
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Post by Unokins on May 21, 2015 23:36:14 GMT
Can follow, Gale said as he took the skewer and sniffed at the meat. Small words. Slow talk. Rook follows. Sometimes. Whistle easier. He nibbled on the meat Omaron gave him. It was chewy and a little hard. He liked it better raw, all soft and slippery. But he did have to admit that the was a certain appeal with the smokey taste and the smell of wood. He pulled off a chunk and swallowed it without chewing. Taking several other pieces, he handed the skewer back to Omaron, bits of cooked meat left for him.
At the question, Gale glared at him, eyebrow rising. Question? He took another bite of the meat, thinking as Rook curled up around Omaron, placing its head on Omaron's lap and closing its eyes wit ha sigh. Ask. Not gonna answer if don't want.
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