RP:Of Hunts and Eggs
The Mist Covered Pool
In the center of the forest clearing is a medium sized pool filled with cloudy grey water. Mist and fog seem to rise up from its murky depths and float to other areas of the forest like lost spirits desperately feeling their way around the alien world of the living. Starring into the cold grey water you believe your imagination may be playing tricks on you as you see unusual shapes moving slowly under the surface. A tail perhaps of some immense serpent seems to slither slowly in the grey depths only to slowly vanish, creating an out of place silent ripple in the otherwise still waters. Dense vegetation lies to your south, the overgrowth filled with brambles and thorns, quite uninviting. In the far distance to the south, you see a sudden plume of amethyst smoke flush through the forest, breaking the mist for but a moment before it is gone. A way forward from this strange pool is northwards into a second clearing or back southwards the way you came
Cynarith emerges in the wilds of Rynvale, a vision of elegance astride her majestic horse with her rose-gold hair catching the first rays of sunlight, shimmering like spun silk and her turquoise eyes sparkle with anticipation. Harry Trotter, her best horse, a sleek and powerful creature, paws at the ground eagerly, sensing the excitement coursing through its rider. With a gentle touch of her hand, Cynarith calms the steed, her connection with the animal palpable to all who beholds them. Today is no ordinary day. Today, Cynarith had been invited to join the great hunt, an honor bestowed upon few women of the ton. Eager to prove herself worthy among the men of high society, she radiates a quiet determination as she tightens the reins and urges her horse forward. As they ride, the wind whips through Cynarith’s hair, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth- one of her signature scents. The rhythmic beat of hooves against the soft earth echoed through the morning air, a symphony of power and grace. Through fields and forests they journey, Cynarith and her noble steed, their bond unbreakable, their spirits soaring. With every stride, every leap, they defied expectations, a testament to the strength and resilience of their partnership. As they come upon the Mist Covered Pool, Cynarith realizes that her path has differed from the group of men she ventured out with. For a moment, beneath the vast, open sky, Cynarith thought that she was exactly where she was meant to be: riding alongside her beloved horse, ready to prove that she was more than just a woman of the ton, but a force to be reckoned with in her own right and now she has been separated from the rest. Harry Trotter's steps slow to a stop as she looks around for anything familiar.
Daisy squats down by the little pool to peer into it. Green eyes squint. There's something in there, eh kitten? Swimming. Floating. Hunting. Being a thing in the water that may or may not jump out at any minute to eat you. Those same eyes blink as she pulls back a little with a wrinkled nose. Maybe don't get eaten today, hm? She huffs and reaches out a single clawed digit to tap at the water. Ripples form, going out further than you'd think a tiny claw could cause over that still water. *Bonk. Bonk. Bonk.* Stupid distractions. The feline waves a paw at the long leathery tail trying to stab her with it's corked tip. It doesn't stop though. Head. Shoulders. Knee. To-- Stop singing already! She snatches it up for a good shake, but is distracted by the horseback riding goddess that wanders into the mist. There is a glow about her, thinning the mist just so. Pretty. Daisy smiles and gives the tail a finger-wagging 'you behave' motion. "Are you lost too?" She doesn't stand. Squatting is better for darting in cast books and covers aren't a good time.
Cynarith had not noticed another in the area at first because the other is in a squatting position while she is high up on her steed and her head swiveled towards the query. Turquoise hues take in the features of the stranger as a pleasant expression shapes her features and then her honeyed timbre answers, "only momentarily." With a swift and graceful motion she dismounts and soothes the steed, feeding it a peppermint. Cynarith’s noble steed is a magnificent specimen of the Elimdorian Windrunner breed, renowned for its speed, agility, and endurance. Standing tall and proud, the Windrunner boasts a lean, muscular build, ideal for swift movement across varied terrain. The horse’s coat is a striking shade of midnight black, gleaming like polished onyx beneath the morning sun. Each strand of its mane and tail is as dark as the night sky. Despite its dark hue, hints of silver dance across the horse’s sleek form, catching the light and shimmering with an ethereal glow. These subtle markings, reminiscent of the stars that adorn the heavens, add to the creature’s mystique and beauty. Then she turns towards the stranger while holding Harry Trotter’s reins as she turns the question around on the stranger, “and you?”
Daisy is just a little in awe of that gorgeous creature just over there. And you? She blinks twice. Oh. Oh the horse is nice too. Must be from the right side of the tracks. What are tracks? Oh come now, you know what... tracks... So anyway, they have good soap where they come from, alright? You're not poor, stop acting like you don't bathe. Stand up and greet the nice lady already. The four foot tall, chonky girl straightens and decides to pat, pat, pat her little feet over there closer to Cynarith for a friendly meeting. "Always. It is better that way." She grins and stands on the very tips of her very toes to stretch her nose toward the horse's. So tall. "He's happy."
Cynarith observes the shorter being from her five foot nine height and her riding boots add an inch or two beyond that even! This one seems lost in more ways than one, but it is not for Cynarith to determine things like that so soon. “Lost and content?” Her head titles a little as she considers the complexities of such a predicament, “what is that like?” The closer the stranger comes, she will pick up on the subtle and pleasant perfume that Cynarith is wearing. She observes as Harry Trotter dips his large mane down in order to softly nudge the stranger, trying to figure out exactly what she is. “Well, he is spoiled. So he better be,” the socialite replies in a plummy manner and a coy little smile on her shapely lips. With the bond she shares with all of her horses, she definitely knows when they are happy and when they are not.
Daisy reaches out to give the dark muzzle a pet. Her own earthy, floral essence dances so prettily in the breeze with the regal perfume of Cyn. What is it like, kitten? To be you. To be everywhere and no where and some where and under there. Under where? The kitten giggles softly. I said where, not wear. Answer the woman already. "Freedom." She drops her petting paw to turn towards Cyn. "My heart does what it wants. I find people and places and things and always have what I need." What now, kitten? Tell her who you are already. Manners for crying out loud. She nods and places a hand on her tummy. "I'm Daisy. I fix things."
Cynarith observes while Harry Trotter is eager to make a new friend and presses his muzzle into her paw, “Harry Trotter has a new friend I think.” Then she teases Harry with, “Hermoineigh is going to be jealous,” to which he replies with a sort of snort. Amused, she watches as the stranger seemingly has arguments with herself and doesn’t dare interrupt. “Ah, yes, freedom,” she stares off in the distance for a moment as she contemplates how free she really is herself. She will be. “As long as you have what you need, then that is all that matters,” but what does Cynarith need or want for anymore? Envy of the ton and to be equal with the men even though she is ‘new money’. She suddenly remembers she is still on the great hunt with those men, unless they purposefully gave her the slip… She wouldn’t put it past them! “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Daisy,” she dips her head and bends at the knee in a courtesy while Harry Trotter mimics the motion.
Daisy has made quite a few friends over the years, from all walks of life. She seems to get along with all of them well enough. So the very proper and polite and polished pleasantries are embraced with another smile. "Friends are welcome." Don't be nosy, kitten. She's out here for a reason. Tiny, leathery wings flap. Don't be nosy, kitten. The little druid takes a step back and looks over towards the water. Maybe the woman is busy? Maybe she wants to help? Maybe she was sent to help? Maybe she needs help. You do help. You're very good at helping folks who don't know they need help. Her always ready smile lifts up to the sky. "If you stay, we can warm it together." Fancy girls usually have places to be, people to see - all that jazz. Offer extended, she looks over at Cyn.
Cynarith was just about to reply in kind of the exchanging of names with, “I am Cyn-” when she can hear the faint call of men shouting, “LADY CYNARITH?!” One of them barks at the other that Viscount Reyfaren will have their heads if something has happened to Cynarith. “I am Cynarith,” she finishes lamely with a soft smile. “Warm what?” The curiosity is genuine, but the sounds of hooves grow closer from behind Cynarith in the direction she came from. “There you are!” One of the pompous men says as she steers Harry to her side when she turns to face them. “Looks like you made the hunt easy for us, Lady Cynarith,” another stuffy gentleman says as he lifts his crossbow towards Daisy. “What do you mean?!” Her tone is no longer honeyed as it rings out clear when she places herself in front of Daisy. “You cannot be serious, Sir Bifir,” turquoise hues narrow in a challenge.
Daisy is being hunted? She doesn't remember seeing any posters, but that doesn't mean they aren't out there. She can't be everywhere all the time, regardless of her like to be all the places at some point. This group of men in their neatly pressed jackets seem like they'd shoot anything that wasn't considered a person. In public, anyway. Who knows what they hunt in private. Anyway! You're a person too, kitten! You're even wearing a dress (today) and a hat! Wild beasts don't wear hats. Well. There was that one time in-- none of that! Paws behind her back in the most non-threatening dip of a curtsy, she keeps her eyes on the men around the Cynarith in front of her. "What charges, please?" Did a cork just fall to the ground?
Cynarith extends her arms behind herself to make sure Daisy is not in their sights. “Cynarith, don’t go soft on us now, I thought you wanted to go out hunting with us,” the pompous one says with his nose in the air. Harry Trotter’s reins have been dropped and the stupidly bold boy gallops full speed at the one pointing the crossbow at the pair of ladies. His forehead collides right with the man, causing him to tumble down onto the mud. The now muddy man’s horse starts rears up to get away from Harry Trotter and darts off into the wilds, unfortunately the muddy pompous one has his boot stuck in the stirrups and is dragged alongside the fleeing horse. The other man cringes and exclaims, “ugh! It talks! Come on good men,” they turn tail to get away from Daisy and Cynarith’s rebel horse. “Daisy, are you alright?” She turns and inspects the shorter woman to see for herself. Even Harry Trotter comes over and nuzzles Daisy’s shoulder. “I had no idea what they were looking for, I am so sorry for their behavior. Please, is there anything I can do for you to make up for this?” Her concern is genuine as she starts to wonder if these are the types of people she really wants to be apart of anymore.
Daisy shifts from fear to defend to amused very quickly, ears bending and twisting with each emotion as it happens. The men depart and she places a hand on the brave Harry's nose. Such a sweet boy. Probably there is a snack in your bag for him? Ah yes. Apple it is. Her free hand searches her bag for the treat that is offered to horse. "You are not at fault." She turns her head to smile at the nomming horse. "We can be friends, Cynarith." Because sweet girls should never pay the price for unruly men. Faces are burned in memories to be brought up later in dark alleys unsavory folks pretending to be honorable tend to frequent. Oh yes. Things will be made up for, but not by anyone so kind to Daisy. She bends down to pick up the cork so it can be shoved back onto the tip of her tail. Where were they? "I have an egg." Will the woman remember what they will talking about? It has been an eventful afternoon.
Cynarith is surprised as Harry Trotter eagerly munches on the treat offered by Daisy as if he didn’t JUST have a peppermint treat! She is mostly surprised because he doesn’t take to other people so quickly, but he earned it and she lets him be. “Well, if you really are my friend then you should have one of these,” she slips a crisp white business card from the pocket of her riding jacket and offers it to Daisy. In bold black script it reads Cynarith in the top most center and then in smaller print it lists off her various businesses: CyCy Chunelle fragrance, Hazelbend Chateau, Lead to Gold Stables, Indigo, Nildran Construction Co. “If there is anything I can help you with in the future, do not hesitate to ask, Lady Daisy.” The statement is an odd one and then she remembers the question from before, “is that what you’re tying to keep warm?”
Daisy releases her tail to take the fanciest of cards. It is studied and tucked away in her bag of non-squishery with a nod. That will definitely come in handy later. Cynarith does not seem like a person who doesn't make good on her promises, that is for sure! "Thank you." So many jobs for one person. Probably she likes to keep busy. That is just fine. We all like to be a thing. What about you, kitten? What do you like to be? She grins widely and pulls a large egg wrapped up in a cloth from her bag. "It was alone. But still alive." She pets a digit over the egg as she looks over at the pool for the flowers she originally came here for. "I want to help it."
Cynarith bends at the waist a little to take a closer look at the egg without touching it to be cautious unless instructed to. "Do you know what kind of egg it is? I mean, we can't be hatching dragons here. The dangerous things," she tries to sound inconspicuous. As if she knows nothing about dragons- who is a dragon anyway! Definitely not Cynarith! "How can we help it?" She follows Daisy's gaze to the pool, wondering what she could be looking for.
Daisy brightens tremendously. Oh she does love a dragon! Don't threaten her with a good time, will you? "No idea. But we could be so lucky." She giggles deviously and lifts the egg for Cyn to take before tapping her own nose. "We can if it smells bad enough." Still giddy with the thought of possibly having a dragon egg, she turns to prance back over towards the water. Searching and searching and following her nose. This is no fruity trail she is on! Nor does she have feathers. Anymore. Ahem. They will smell the flower before they see it. Long gone are the dancing perfumes of wealth. No. This is a heavy, thick, skunky odor. It doesn't seep into your clothes or skin, it just hovers in the air. "Here." There by the water are bulbs of twin fat petals in color combinations of brown, green, and purple. They house a developing spadix that is covered with numerous, small, tightly-packed yellow flowers. Just enough room in that cup to fit an egg. "It'll be warm." And should Cynarith get close enough to nestle the egg, she'll feel an incredible heat coming from the flower.
Cynarith is a little warmed by how Daisy seems so excited by the idea of a dragon. "I mean sure. As long as it isn't white," not that she knows anything about scale color and their temperament! She is slipping, but focuses on the task at hand. You know when someone hands you a baby and you've never held one, so you kind of just cautiously hold them out like they are a bomb about to explode? Well, that is exactly how a socialite like Cynarith holds this egg for she has no motherly instinct within her at all. "Oh? Lovely," a perfume mogul searching for stinky smells, the irony! While holding the egg out with heavy caution, she follows Daisy around best she can and tries to sniff out this flower as well, but she has a suspicion that the other has a much better sense of smell than herself. "Oh? It is quite the odd looking flora, huh…" With a pastel brow raised, she looks down to Daisy, "if you say so." Then with that same caution, she squats to lower the egg down into the petal cup, hesitating only for a moment as she says, "wow. It -is- warm." Once the egg is secured she stands back up with a smile, "now what?"
Daisy is watching the egg placement oh so carefully. She can tell Cyn isn't very comfortable holding the egg, but she does a fantastic job making sure it is settled in. Maybe the skunky odor doesn't bother Cyn so much since she has such nice perfume on. They certainly don't need to sit directly on top of the flowered egg, that is for sure. "White ones are nice sometimes." There are definitely some dragons who aren't the greatest of company, but the kitten has met her fair share of amazing ones. No name dropping, kitten. It is rude. The little druid leads Cyn a little away from the water so they can sit in some dry grass there under a tree. Once comfy, she leans back to relax. "We wait."