There was a spot on the island where the forming flow sunk beneath the waves and was pummeled in places by the force of the water. When the tide rolled out, it revealed a coastline of craggy pools, separated off by craggy ridges, like miniature mountain ranges, a tiny, topographical map of a completely different world. Sea creatures of all sorts hemmed and hawwed in the small pools, starfish and urchins and even tiny fish, who seemed to flit around with anxious energy, probably counting every single, dreadful second until the seawater would return and free them from their tiny prison where the oxygen was steadily diminishing with each minute slither of gills.
Kassandra was avoiding the great, green, living mass of the jungle which pulsed at the center of the island like some terrible, wonderful tumor; the wind brushed a raspy breath along the sparse grass and broad-leafed shrubs at its outer rim, and the tops of ring-trunked trees swayed and bent under their very height. Small flashes of color, beautiful climbing flowers, chirping tropical birds, and probably a monkey or two bent the inner boughs and gave the jungle some movement to the outside eye; to Kass it seemed a poison fruit, beautiful and tempting but terrible and taboo all at the same time. She had great reservations about exploring its depths, but she was no stranger to the push and pull of fate; something had drawn her here, though what it was, she did not know. It could be horrible or it could be wonderful; she would end up pushing into the jungle. Despite her lingering fears, she knew it was unavoidable— but it was not urgent, necessarily, not yet.
Nearby, Oculos was perched on a slight ridge, staring into a tidal pool with his amazing vision, stock still save for the gentle twitch, raise, or lowering of one or both of his ears. Kassandra, distracted by some tiny crabs marching in and out of a forest of flotsam, turned away and walked over to where her Bonded sat to see what was arresting his attention so much. She came to his side and snorted.
A dead fish, silver belly up, yellowed eyes staring aimlessly off at the far horizon, floated gently this way and that on the ripples of the tide pool. It was small, not five inches long, with black fins and a black line across the width of its tail. Kassandra did not want to ask the Borzoi why he was so fascinated with the piscine corpse; she had a terrible feeling she already knew. She tossed her head into the distance and considered entering the jungle just to distract herself from what was coming next.
Her suspicions were confirmed when Oculos licked his lips and asked, (‘Should I eat it?’)
“No!” Kassandra said, disgusted and disappointed but not at all surprised. When she and Oculos had been drying and dying in the desert they ate whatever came to them, and so the sighthound had consumed the remnants of many dehydrated corpses; it may make her hifalutin, but Kassandra had hoped those days were behind them. Maybe a bit of those silverite and ivory cage bars had worn off on her, cage though it was. “Go into the jungle to hunt,” she suggested, “maybe you can catch a monkey.”
(‘Hrmph,’) Oculos grunted, laying down int he sand with a grumble in his throat. The tips of his curved nails and white-capped paws dipped into the dead fish’s resting place. (‘This is here and ready, though I’ve not eaten monkey before…’)
Kassandra sighed, unable to keep a bit of the haughty disgust from her tone, and moved further on down the coastline, hoping to find something to keep her mind off the looming expanse of the jungle behind her.
Kassandra was avoiding the great, green, living mass of the jungle which pulsed at the center of the island like some terrible, wonderful tumor; the wind brushed a raspy breath along the sparse grass and broad-leafed shrubs at its outer rim, and the tops of ring-trunked trees swayed and bent under their very height. Small flashes of color, beautiful climbing flowers, chirping tropical birds, and probably a monkey or two bent the inner boughs and gave the jungle some movement to the outside eye; to Kass it seemed a poison fruit, beautiful and tempting but terrible and taboo all at the same time. She had great reservations about exploring its depths, but she was no stranger to the push and pull of fate; something had drawn her here, though what it was, she did not know. It could be horrible or it could be wonderful; she would end up pushing into the jungle. Despite her lingering fears, she knew it was unavoidable— but it was not urgent, necessarily, not yet.
Nearby, Oculos was perched on a slight ridge, staring into a tidal pool with his amazing vision, stock still save for the gentle twitch, raise, or lowering of one or both of his ears. Kassandra, distracted by some tiny crabs marching in and out of a forest of flotsam, turned away and walked over to where her Bonded sat to see what was arresting his attention so much. She came to his side and snorted.
A dead fish, silver belly up, yellowed eyes staring aimlessly off at the far horizon, floated gently this way and that on the ripples of the tide pool. It was small, not five inches long, with black fins and a black line across the width of its tail. Kassandra did not want to ask the Borzoi why he was so fascinated with the piscine corpse; she had a terrible feeling she already knew. She tossed her head into the distance and considered entering the jungle just to distract herself from what was coming next.
Her suspicions were confirmed when Oculos licked his lips and asked, (‘Should I eat it?’)
“No!” Kassandra said, disgusted and disappointed but not at all surprised. When she and Oculos had been drying and dying in the desert they ate whatever came to them, and so the sighthound had consumed the remnants of many dehydrated corpses; it may make her hifalutin, but Kassandra had hoped those days were behind them. Maybe a bit of those silverite and ivory cage bars had worn off on her, cage though it was. “Go into the jungle to hunt,” she suggested, “maybe you can catch a monkey.”
(‘Hrmph,’) Oculos grunted, laying down int he sand with a grumble in his throat. The tips of his curved nails and white-capped paws dipped into the dead fish’s resting place. (‘This is here and ready, though I’ve not eaten monkey before…’)
Kassandra sighed, unable to keep a bit of the haughty disgust from her tone, and moved further on down the coastline, hoping to find something to keep her mind off the looming expanse of the jungle behind her.
kassandra oculos | 634 | @Huehuecoyotl | I really gotta go to work so this is a bit short & I'm not super happy with the coding but BIG SHRUGS ; also this is going to be the first chronological thread of her on the island, for my own notes
