RP:Sabrina Gone Fishing
West, then west, until there is no more west, Chartsend
Green and Flat sums this area up nicely, flat and green as far as the eye can see, thick green grass the occasional tree or flower providing homes to the native insects and animal. This place is almost eerily unreal as if some unseen force preserved it in such a way or as is if the whole place was leveled and flattened long enough and all the large plants and hills were simply obliterated to be replaced with swathes of green grass and precious little else. This seems to continue to the south and you can just make out the towers and some of the ruined tall buildings of Venturil to the very distant east.
Sabrina looked down at the parchment again, feeling her whole day was wasted on that old man’s horrible directions. She knew better than to ask a human as often times it would prove they were almost always confused. She slouches as much as one could if they were sitting atop a hell hound with an equivalently wide gate. Her thighs were beginning to hurt from holding herself upright as well as deciphering the tattered parchment, her stomach was growling louder than Rohk’s having skipped the day’s first meal due to a metallic and oily flavor of lizard blood that happened to cross her palate uninvited. She regretted that now. The sun said it was just past midday which meant she should ideally be looking for food somewhere along what she was certain was the wrong path. And she begs Rohk to head south for she smelled water, and where there was water there was most certainly food.
Nestled close to the hunting lodge is a large lake, whether it is there by the design of man or nature is hard to tell. The water sparkles and reeds blow gently in the wind. In the depths an occasional flash of silver can be seen as large fish come to the surface, if you were to start throwing food in they would come to the water's edge, sliding over each other and almost taking the morsels from your hand. Animals come freely from the plains to drink here, you can see them now, some familiar to you, others bizarre and unlike anything you have ever seen. Trees are dotted around the lake's perimeter, the North side being dominated by a massive willow that just touches the water with it's delicate leaves. At the lake's edge you see a small jetty with a rowboat moored to it. The reason for this is clear, a small island is clearly visible in the center of the lake. What lies within the island's depths is hidden from you by the trees that line it's shore and you are tempted to row across and explore. However, something tells you it is a private area, a sanctuary and haven for whoever dwells in these parts. Loathe to leave this beautiful area, you sit by the water for a while, enjoying the peace and tranquility.
Sabrina slides from Rohk’s scaly form, her feet hitting the ground in a silent thud as the ground was covered with sparse grasses and dampened packed-down mud. Her shoes were now dirty, brand new shoes since Rohk decided to eat one of her shoes just this morning after she threw it at him; a fact she is sure proof that the hound was more childish than she. The wind played a song through the lake-reed and the warm sun danced upon the near placid surface of the water. She makes her way to the waters edge, tempted to take off her shoes and have another bath, but not knowing the area’s threats and safety’s it was better to save that for another time. She lifts her elegant bow from about her form, scratching lightly against the leather it pressed against her chest the past few hours, realizing how uncomfortable she had been only just now. She pulls the glistening chord; a mere shimmering spiders-web thick, in fact upon further inspection an onlooker would deem it just that- enchanted, of course else it would surely have broke by now. Tight limbs from the elegant-yet-charming reflex bow bend with ease, glowing stronger a silvery blue the harder- rather further- she pulled. The second enchantment allowed the user to inflict minimal effort to achieve maximum result, her stature required her to compile such a piece decades ago.
Rohk finds a spot just under the mass of the willow, between the trunk and the waters edge and shielded from the light to take a much needed nap. Sabrina had been set on finding this ‘Chartsend’ she had heard of not only last night in the wildlands, but just this morning from the woodsy (if not slightly manly) wood Elfess, Anann in Kelay. Small ripples of water billow outward from beneath the tree indicating that Rohk was apparently thirsty though he had not argued that point a single bit the whole trip through. Fragments of those ripples reached upwards, just enough to tickle the willow branches into dropping a few of its drier leaves.
Sabrina reaches behind her, as if pulling an arrow from some invisible quiver, and so produces a length of shimmering foliate. She draws the edge back, light as air and smooth as grace itself until the head settles into the nock. Her aim is downward into the silvery flashes of light surfacing every now and again in a visually spectacular drama. Her eyes were focused, glinting green as a field in springtime and in the slightest of movements the arrow is loosed. The release is fluid, if not for the ripples complaining of her violations against them there would be no evidence of her sin until the plump silvery body of her lunch bobs along the surface. A tiny crimson river snakes its way between perfect scales, staining the crystal clear oblivion then fading into an indiscernible cloud that faded just around the edges into non-existence. The arrow’s spell is weakened from sight, leaving only a moment of flickering static as proof of its existence. For a moment she felt sad, accepting the necessary evil and dismissing it just as quickly. She removes her boots quickly before she fetches the prize herself, wading only far enough into the water that it may dance with the lush black trusses at her hips. A fair few inches swirl in an inky black mass, countering her movements appropriately but the fluidity of it was matched wet or dry. One of the things that one could not simply put their finger on about her was finally revealed, but with no audience it would pass by unnoticed. It was deeper than she thought it would be, probably because she saw herself taller than she really was- which was slight, even for a river elf.
Inducing minimal panic she reached out for the fresh kill and drew it back with her to the water’s edge, reclaiming her footwear before sitting down to clean her meal. In a few moments of the warm dry air her hair would dry, no matter either way; she didn’t like being wet, but the hair looked the same regardless. She takes a long blade of grass from beside where she sat, running her fingers along the edge and forming a slick blade. Laying her blade in her lap she picks up the fish with both hands- like a puppy gifted for some spontaneous occasion- and apologizes to it before she lays it down on its back cuts it from anus to gills. She discards the makeshift knife and shoves her hands into the cold gooey corpse, her fistful of fingers curled, and pulls out the inner workings in one swipe, slopping them on the shoreline in a soggy mess. With fingers splayed she swishes them about the water, mucking up its picturesque sparkle long enough to be forgotten. She scouts for a good reed and finds one, skewering the large serving in a guiltless effort.
“ROHK.”
There was a distinct grumble coming from under the willow where the hell beast had only just nodded off, only to be yanked back to reality by that damned girl and her incessant noise. His scales shattered, proving his irritation as if she couldn't possibly know. She stands with the fish on a pike, propped in the air like a white flag, the limb not supporting it propped motheringly on her hip. “Time to eat...” She beckons him with an inward wave of her hand “… come on, I’m hungry.” He treads over to her, both dragging and stomping his talon'd claws at the same time- with great effort to prove his point further. Looking at her like a pathetic excuse of an elementalist his scales reverberate, setting his hackles ablaze. She holds out the pronged meal and roasts the fish in minutes before ripping off a conservatively small handful for herself and giving the bulk of it to her companion. Rohk was not akin to eating mammally meat, but fish was always on the menu for him. They prey was large enough to feast on as he took it to the ground, balancing it precariously on one viscous paw, holding the tail down with the opposing appendage. He licks his lips hungrily and crunches into the head, tearing it off and swallowing it eyes and all. The torn carcass limped lazily over its balancing post before being relieved of its woeful misery in a second mouthful.
Sabrina grew very tired, the day was still gone, and still no Chartsend. Directions never were her cup of tea, but the meal she was rewarded with was more than worth it. Rohk returned to his shaded retreat; grateful, bellyful, and eye lids too heavy to hold. Sabrina followed, curling her small form into his belly, dark trusses covering her body like an unnecessary blanket and her demon’s limbs encircling her form. They slept.