kassandra,
we were born in the shadow
of the crimes of our fathers
Of all the scant lessons and tutelage of her youth, the art of spirits and fine indulgences was a lesson Kassandra missed out on. Half of these words she could not pronounce, with accents in strange places and letters next to each other that made no sense in articulation. She eyed the bottles stacked along the bar to see if any of them felt more friendly, more inviting, but at a distance, in the dim light they were just as intimidating. The bartender was not helping matters in the artful way they spun and twirled the containers, snatching away vials by the neck mid pour without spilling a drop. It was impressive, and Kassandra was once again reminded that most everything in this world was an art form; of course, everything impressed her, so that wasn't saying much.
She is distracted from her decision-related stress momentarily by the presence of an adorably cute creature clambering over the bar towards what could only be a jar of accouterments for various drinks and snacks. Kassandra zoomed in like a camera, wanting desperately to snuffle his adorable cream-colored head between his chocolate pointed ears and somehow hold him like a baby.
So focused is she on watching the delightful rodent, she is barely able to drag away her attention to respond to her new acquaintance. "Ah, I'm not sure. I suppose I've never... hmm, what a strange thought, have I ever had anything that isn't water before?" She was, after all, just a captive, a useless throwback. Not even cheap wine was worth being spilling on her. "I guess something sweet would be the lesser of the evils, yes?"
"May I ask, what are you having? For curiosities sake, if nothing else," Kas queried, fighting the urge to lean forward and sniff the stranger's glass. It was a strong desire, but she was no longer the innocent and belligerent child wandering about the world. She had learned manners, if only just.
She watches the precious rat move with its prize of pilfered snacks and tilts her head as they approach Oculos' sniffing nose. Small for his breed and vertically challenged in the movement department-- Kas once watched him try to jump a smallish log and trip over his own legs-- it was all he could do to stick his twitching snout up above the barline.
The two creatures seem to touch noses for a moment, and then the rat seizes Oculos' nose in his small hands; the hound crinkles his face and twitches his head in a small sneeze, whiskers squeezing upwards.
Kassandra is immune to the tension in the air. Neither she nor her canine companion is prone to violence, and while Oculos is possessed of a vicious prey drive, it is triggered by the chase. He simply waggles his tickled snout, the black button of his nose twisting at an almost impossible angle-- and then his brown eyes pop open wide as he struggles to follow the line of sight of the falling cheese. He is not quite quick enough to catch it before it hits the sand, but he picks it up, delicate, in his long jaws to avoid eating the beach along with it. It is gone in a moment and he licks his lips, looking upwards at his newfound friend with perked ears (his right ear has never stood up all the way) and raised brows.
"Oculos, please," Kassandra said, her voice soft and purring with amusement, "we have pride."
(Yes, and they have cheese, so it's kind of the same thing.) He does not even bother to look her way.
Kassandra rolls her eyes and shifts slightly on her hooves, relaxing. "Your companions are quite charming," she says, affectionate. Not even the bared teeth and tense posture of Beech can convince her the rats were anything short of adorable.
She is distracted from her decision-related stress momentarily by the presence of an adorably cute creature clambering over the bar towards what could only be a jar of accouterments for various drinks and snacks. Kassandra zoomed in like a camera, wanting desperately to snuffle his adorable cream-colored head between his chocolate pointed ears and somehow hold him like a baby.
So focused is she on watching the delightful rodent, she is barely able to drag away her attention to respond to her new acquaintance. "Ah, I'm not sure. I suppose I've never... hmm, what a strange thought, have I ever had anything that isn't water before?" She was, after all, just a captive, a useless throwback. Not even cheap wine was worth being spilling on her. "I guess something sweet would be the lesser of the evils, yes?"
"May I ask, what are you having? For curiosities sake, if nothing else," Kas queried, fighting the urge to lean forward and sniff the stranger's glass. It was a strong desire, but she was no longer the innocent and belligerent child wandering about the world. She had learned manners, if only just.
She watches the precious rat move with its prize of pilfered snacks and tilts her head as they approach Oculos' sniffing nose. Small for his breed and vertically challenged in the movement department-- Kas once watched him try to jump a smallish log and trip over his own legs-- it was all he could do to stick his twitching snout up above the barline.
The two creatures seem to touch noses for a moment, and then the rat seizes Oculos' nose in his small hands; the hound crinkles his face and twitches his head in a small sneeze, whiskers squeezing upwards.
Kassandra is immune to the tension in the air. Neither she nor her canine companion is prone to violence, and while Oculos is possessed of a vicious prey drive, it is triggered by the chase. He simply waggles his tickled snout, the black button of his nose twisting at an almost impossible angle-- and then his brown eyes pop open wide as he struggles to follow the line of sight of the falling cheese. He is not quite quick enough to catch it before it hits the sand, but he picks it up, delicate, in his long jaws to avoid eating the beach along with it. It is gone in a moment and he licks his lips, looking upwards at his newfound friend with perked ears (his right ear has never stood up all the way) and raised brows.
"Oculos, please," Kassandra said, her voice soft and purring with amusement, "we have pride."
(Yes, and they have cheese, so it's kind of the same thing.) He does not even bother to look her way.
Kassandra rolls her eyes and shifts slightly on her hooves, relaxing. "Your companions are quite charming," she says, affectionate. Not even the bared teeth and tense posture of Beech can convince her the rats were anything short of adorable.
@Rivane | 641 | the beginning of a beautiful fwendship
