RP:The Best Prize
A Misty Pool, Rynvale
Daisy yawns widely from her spot under this tree she's picked out to rest by. She's been hanging out in this spot for a hot minute by now, waiting and watching and snacking and waiting and waiting and... She is oh so very glad she isn't a bird. Eggs take forever to hatch and this one is no exception. This is going to be the absolute last time she hatches an egg. Period. Looking over at the flower nest she created, she wrinkles her nose. Probably the hatchling is gonna need a bath. She hopes the stink doesn't seep through the shell.
Mac hasn’t explored the back end of this island for … well, time doesn’t have much meaning for the kraken any more. Time enough for civilisations and their cities to sprout, fall and rise again several times over, at least. This portion has pleasingly damp air, and having sensed a body of water from a distance, he makes a beeline for it through the mist and trees. Mac is in far better shape than when Daisy had seen him last, having taken a much-needed plunge in the abyssal deeps off the western coast, though he still has on that same battered old coat as he steps into her view, pausing to scan the pond and its surrounds for jumpscare level monsters and the like. He doesn’t even turn her way when his rumbly voice greets her, like he’s got eyes in the back of his dreadlocked head. “It seems we are destined to meet amid dank forests, Miss Daisy.”
Daisy 's head bobs a couple times in a sleepy nod as she begins to drift off. Nothing to do. Nothing to see. Nothing to hear. Except steps. Feet. Feet stepping. Footsteps! They're coming! Not hiding or sneaking or trampling. Just. Approaching. She sits up and has a peek in the general direction of the general movement. Closer and closer and ooooh, she knows that coat. Does he see her? Crouching and grinning and stepping side to side in place with a tushy wiggle. Before his voice has a chance to get to her, there is a jump! And a scare! And probably not so much a scare, but definitely the kitten hurls herself at him as she is greeted. There will be giggles and definitely a hug. "Hi Mac."
Mac will never let on as to whether he knows the kitten’s sneak attack was coming — but he makes sure there’s an appropriately surprised tone audible in the ‘ooof’ he lets out when she pounces him. A large hand lowers to ruffle her hair and ears, and the seaborn chuckles. “What is thy purpose in lurking in this misty place, young kit?” His nose wrinkles, then. “Thou had best be cautious, for I detect a scent not unlike that of a rotting carcass…” he inhales deeply through his nostrils, almost against his will, “.. one with some sort of horrendous foot malady, perhaps. “
Daisy grins as her head dips beneath the hair tussle. Good thing she has one of those haircuts that supports messy locks! Folks are always doing that sort of thing to her. It's like she gets the haircut on purpose or something. Just inviting the pets. "I'm hatching!" Poor Mac. He only just got here, so he's not used to the smell. Maybe he needs a little help. He needs somebody! Not just anybody! He needs someone! Or something. A beatle? Nooo. Something that smells nice. A little paw digs in her little bag and pulls out a little white gardenia. It is offered to him before she tugs on his hand to move him closer to her prize in the stinky flowers by the pond.
Mcracken suppresses the urge to stuff his outraged nose with the pleasantly scented flower, opting instead to merely allow its fragrance to chase the worst of the stink away as Daisy leads him toward a patch of unusual plants, where the nasal affront only intensifies. Daisy is offered a lingering side-eye. “Hatching?” he says, dark brows hitching high. Daisy might note him glancing at the vestigial wings on her back, as he wonders whether he’s mistaken her species entirely. “It seems congratulations are in order, then, Miss. For your happy occasion.” A long finger points to a spot among the malodorous blooms. ”Is that… an egg?”
Daisy blinks several times at him then behind her. Con... Oooooh no. Nonono. Did he even see the size of that egg? Did he look at it properly? The thing is massive! And she is tiny! Sure the wings are confusing, but maaaaan. Better correct him, kitten. She nods with a little giggle. "It's an egg. I found it." Squatting close to the flower, she pets a finger down the edge of the very warm egg. "The flower keeps it warm." She looks back up at him with brightened eyes. She does enjoy life and making things grow. Not of her own. Nah, that isn't a thing. But the flora and fauna of the world is a fantastic dance she is more than happy to play in. "It is the best prize."
“You… found it. I see.” Mac doesn’t want to rain on the kitten’s parade but does cast a worried glance toward some ripples in the grey waters of that misty pool. “Do you know what sort of creature might have laid this egg?” The tall man squats down by the flowers, bring his face about level with Daisy’s own, as he inspects the egg and the odd flowers warming it. Mac might be one of the oldest living beings in the sea but even a kraken can’t know everything, especially concerning the Dry World. A slight smile might betray his pleasure at feeling such curiosity once more while that long index finger prods a petal. “And what do you know about these?”
Daisy looks back at the egg. It was just in the middle of nowhere when she found it. Not a nest or anything. Maybe dropped? Maybe rolled? Maybe someone stole it and lost it and she just found it happenstancefully. "Probably. A big one." Big eggs come from big animals. It isn't TOO big. But bigger than she'd like to squeeze out of herself, that is for sure! "Maybe. I don't know." She watches him pet the flower and smiles. That she does know about. "There is heat inside from natural chemicals." Which Mac will definitely feel when his hand gets close enough. It isn't a fire or anything. But definitely a good bit warmer than the air around them.
Mac nods, focused for a moment on studying the plants. He has his mouth half open to say something else when the egg starts to rock in its weird vegetable nest. “Look!” he urges Daisy as a tiny crack in the shell quickly becomes a little hole where …whatever it is… inside is intent on pecking its way out. His face turns toward the little feline, “For thy safety. Miss Daisy, perhaps you ought to step back?” While he speaks, a huge bit of eggshell falls free, revealing the slime-coated head of a… what?
The infant creature is a rather dull brown, its catlike head topped with two little tufted ears, but possessing a stubby yellow beak instead of a more conventional mouth. The creature starts tearing at its oviparous prison with clawed forefeet now, and albumen slops over the edge of the shell. Obviously Daisy has ignored Mac’s warning, for it is at her feet the newborn griffin falls as it slides free, slime dripping from its body. Two enormous golden eyes blink open, staring up at the kitten, while the infant wobbles on four catlike feet, its nubby brown tailfeathers shivering loose a spray of sticky droplets.
Daisy absolutely does not back away from the egg! Why would she? That would be sensible and wise and a few other words our kitten absolutely is the complete opposite of. There is no flower odor. Only egg hatching. Her nose is very close to it as it cracks and breaks off and produces the gooey miracle. The little druid brightens as the creature moves closer to her. Griffin. Maybe it'll stay small like her. She gets a hand towel from her bag and wipes some of the ick away. "Your name will be Sur." As all the best prizes are. She looks up at Mac with a grin. "I'm glad you were here."
“I’m glad it’s a…” Mac laughs, having no name to put to the species, “Glad it seems harmless,” he finishes, still not sure what sort of animal it was. The baby griffin stretches barely-feathered wings and makes a high peeping sound. “Welcome to the world, little Sur,” Mac tells it, then glances toward Daisy. “I think your new charge might be hungry.”
Daisy knows all about hunger and boy is she the best at making sure people have snacks! Some people don't give their babies snacks ever and that is just the worst! Well our kitten isn't the worst at all! She has snacks. Baby griffin snacks? Eh. What do they eat? Maybe some fish. Fish? She doesn't have any fish. Or raw meats. This is no good! She stands up and blinks at the pond. "I can catch something. Maybe." Her claws *kah-ching* out like some sort of cigar smoking man of ex-es would do as she steps closer to the water. "In there."
Mcracken is very quick to stand up and make a hasty step in front of Daisy, “Perhaps,” he smiles, not wanting to alarm her, “I could herd a few fish close to the bank.” He doesn’t really leave her any room for argument, shedding his coat with a shrug and swiftly diving into the foggy water with barely a splash, leaving ripples in his wake. The water has time to grow completely still again before the whole center of the pool explodes in a frenzy of pale limbs, a thrashing slithery tail, a massive gnashing maw. and a bearded angry face. The struggle erupts for only a moment and subsides again, the pool frothing from the furious agitation happening below. Then….. nothing. And then! More nothing. The hungry griffin chick peep-peeps loudly, huddling against Daisy for warmth. Still… nothing. Then SPLAT! A carp comes sailing out of the water, up and over Daisy’s head, to smack into the bank behind her. The fish flaps and gasps, threatening to flipflop its way back into that pool.
Mac’s head pops up now, and he treads water. “Will one be enough, do you think?”
Daisy does the waiting and the watching and the protecting and the eventual gasping when that fish flies right over her! "Oh!" She turns to grab a hold of it with both paws so it doesn't scoot its way back into the safety of that pond. Not that a bit of water full of Mac body is safe for anyone on the other end of his swor... kni... ax... eh... Okay so Mac fights with his bare hands (maybe cause who could see under that water anyway?) and it is awesome! Snackificationly awesome. She plucks the fish's eye out with a claw and offers it to the new baby. "Plenty, thank you."
Whatever it was Mac just had that tussle with, it is well and truly done with ominous lurking for now. The man-apparent exits the water, shaking his dreads like a dog, water streaming from his dark beard. “Very welcome,” he grins to see the little hatchling snapping up an eyeball, swallowing it whole, and retrieves his coat from where it landed among those stinkflowers. At least it’s warm now. “I insist, Miss, that you and little Sur move along from here.” He eyeballs the water, which is as still and smooth as a foggy mirror. “To somewhere less… ahem, just.. less,” he clears his throat, “And so must I, regrettably. But I am sure we will meet again. If you take that fish along to the old shack on the western shore, my sister Omorfi might cook it for you.” Mac sniffs the sleeve of his coat and frowns slightly.
Daisy gives Sur the other eyeball before picking the little babe up and putting it in her hair for safe keeping. That should satisfy his belly until they get somewhere a little less attackey. "We will." She does a little collecting of egg shells, stinky flower seeds, and pond water before heafting that fish up and over her shoulder like a trophy club. "I promise." His distaste... dissmell of that coat does not escape her. He is offered another gardenia from her bag since his other one was thrown over there somewhere when he went off to fetch dinner. "Good night, Mac." And off she goes to another part of the tropical island that might be better suited for snacking.