in the beginning...

...the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.

      With some serious certainty, Calypso had left her child sleeping in the den. The cub had been sprawled on her back with her paws in every which direction, snoring soundly during one of her many daily naps. However, with the same serious certainty, the cub was not in the den when Calypso and her companion approached just now. There was no slumbering child in the cool darkness. No sign of her in the immediate area, either. It might've been worrying, if it were not completely normal for the cub to roam the entirety of the Cay whenever she felt like it. Not necessarily with Calypso's knowledge, either. Yet, even on the far side of the island, the call of her mother was clear, and she would never hesitate to answer it.
      From behind the pair did the cub come charging. Sand flew in her wake as her over-large paws acted as scoops. Pointed ears were turned back into impish horns. Eyes were narrowed into pale slits of determination and focus. Without so much as a huff of exertion, the cub flung herself at the heels of the lion standing next to Calypso. Teeth and claws were out, but measured only for anchor, not damage. Forelimbs extended and wrapped, aiming to bear-hug the leg tight. Perhaps it was a mistake that the cub had directed herself at the companion instead of her mother. Too excited in her rush to notice she had the wrong target. Or maybe it was on purpose. Maybe she didn't fear the consequences of latching onto the wrong feline.
      Who knew?

---

words. 264
tags. @Hákon, @Calypso
notes. -snicker-

june y7 ≠ amani cay, stygian shore
4 months old ≠ galloway crew boatswain
barbarian lvl 0 ≠ paladin lvl 0
wounded ≠ fatigued
H4 ≠ D0 ≠ L5

code by corvus

an ear flicks, considering. he'd never actually... given a fighting lesson to a child before. adults, willing and already wetted in violence, sure. but children? not so much. still -- how hard could it be? assuming the little ankle-biter wasn't horribly annoying, and didn't barrel into his leg outta nowhere, it should be totally fine.

right.

he does not miss the wink she saucily tosses his way, nor does he miss the way his own body responds in kind. it's an immediate sort of interest, a pull towards her and what that wink might entail. and everything else it doesn't promise, but what might come after anyway. there is little to do about it now, though, walking side-by-side into her home, and his attention turns to the surroundings. an ear tips as she answers, stating that this was the first place she'd visited, too.

he can only imagine what @Calypso was like when first coming to this island -- getting into a scuffle on the sands she'd eventually live on. her tone is heavy with sarcasm and he thinks to comment on it but decides to let it lay -- perhaps not all of her fights ended the way theirs has. how ironic, then, that the reason he'd been in such a furious state to begin with had been because of saga -- and he'd met saga on the edge of this very cay.

how different, he wonders, might their lives be if they'd stumbled into each other here instead?

that thought is one for a later date ( or never, actually, whichever is easier -- ), easily pushed aside when they finally reach her den. here the smell of her is stronger, obviously, and it's all he can do to look uninterested. certainly not curious of where she lays her head down at night, certainly not interested at all in the quiet moments of her life. ears tip forward as seafoam eyes follow hers to the mouth of the den, noting that it is empty of a cub -- even after she calls for grit.

and then, grit arrives. with all the grace and poise of a cannonball, she flings herself at him -- latching easily onto his foreleg. a grunt of surprise is knocked from his chest, a severe expression turning his features, as he looks down to the large, blue-pelted girl. i'm guessing this is her? he says, as a low growl rumbles from his throat -- no real bite or aggression there. still, he moves the leg that @Grit is clinging to away from his body, as if this will help rid his limb of the girl.

code; background; art;

when she realizes grit is not there she does not worry. instead her gaze (that is leveled on her companion) heats just slightly, as if thinking that perhaps she might give in to the pull before their daughter has time to join them. a small step is taken towards him, drawn always like the proverbial moth to flame, but the scuffle of paws on sand stays her next move.

instead calypso's apologetic grin is back, expecting the child to burst on to the scene with her usual exuberance, and she is not disappointed. a better mother might have scolded the child, taught her to have manners and proper behavior, but calypso is, after all, a pirate. grit fits in with the rough and tumble life her mother had grown up with, and the druid sees no wrong with her actions.

one day grit would bite on the wrong ankle and she would learn her lesson -- it is not one that calypso feels the need to teach beyond offering the odd vague warning.

as it were she looks from the girl to the palomino man, a sparkle of amusement in her ocean-storm eyes. "aye, i told ye her be a scrapper." a slight shrug, as if she did not care what he thought, as if she was not watching his every move to see just what he did when faced with her hurricane of a child.

"@Hákon meet @Grit," she added, with mirth in her voice at the decidedly unusual introduction.

Art by Rabbit | Table code by Zodiac

in the beginning...

...the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.

      The leg was successfully latched onto, forelegs wrapped tight around it. Thus, the cub set to nibbling the flesh beneath the palomino fur with such great ferocity that the owner of the limb should be grateful for a swift end. Which is to say that she was careful, even with her overlong teeth, to not do more than pull at the skin without puncturing it. Of course, no attack would be complete without a healthy amount of drool accompanying. She provided plenty, her tongue flicking out of the side of her mouth on either side of her grip. Then the leg moved.
      Ah, but this was familiar. It was not so long ago that she was entangled in a serious battle with the paw of a golden lioness--a friend of Calypso named Archesia. So had this lioness sought to shake the cub from her paw. Though the child had been dislodged then, she had learned, and grown, in the time since. Larger and wiser, she readjusted her forelegs so that her paws wrapped to touch one on top of the other in her embrace--using her claws in her own skin to provide a stronger hold. Then she brought her rear legs up, wrapping them around the limb as well. All the grip she could attain, she would. Not again would she be shaken free so easily!
      But her ears flicked at the sound of the companion and Calypso exchanging words. Even through her savaging of the companion's leg, she giggled. She couldn't help it. This hadn't been a mistake, and Calypso knew that. She knew her daughter well. Knew that her arrival was often a misfortune for others. It made the cub's heart warm to know that her mother was so knowledgeable. Sure, the child figured she would get actually bonked when she did this to the wrong feline, but she also trusted Calypso to not bring true threats to her. If the cub was going to attach herself to a serious baddie, it would not be someone worthy of Calypso's trust.
      Or maybe Archesia wouldn't be so forgiving the next time. Either way.

---

words. 354
tags. @Hákon, @Calypso
notes. i love this

code by corvus

@Calypso's muscles tense, as if she's going to step into his orbit -- it is distracting, and certainly just enough distraction that little grit needs. if hakon didn't know any better, he might think them a ruthless duo of partners in crime. indeed, it would serve them well -- the batting of caly's lashes the perfect distraction to grit's... well, everything. after all, @Grit does not so much as latch on, but rather she latches on with a vengeance. hakon has no way to know that grit's sworn enemy is limbs, and that she's waged battle against them before, but his brows furrow when instead of getting the hint, she instead... latches on tighter.

a scrapper, he repeats, tone a little dull -- purposefully even even his brows furrow a little deeper, as grit's claws sink into his flesh. a little grumble whines from his throat, giving a small little kick -- hoping to better dislodge her. but then again, given how many teeth and claws he can feel in his skin, it probably won't do anything except make her --

laugh. the little blue-furred girl is laughing.

not a him, necessarily, but how is he supposed to know that? a grunt echoes from the hollows of his throat, giving another little kick ( still probably not enough to dislodge her, but certainly enough to make his feelings known -- a warning shot, for anyone else but her ). she is charming, hakon drawls -- sarcasm slipping through the syllables, alighting his accented words. it's clear he might have another word to call her ( or even a few choice adjectives ), but for whatever reason, he is playing nice. and if not playing nice, then trying to be... good. sociable.

there are few others he would put this much effort into impressing.

code; background; art;

grit attacks and hakon seeks to dislodge and calypso... watches.

and when the little girl laughs she cannot help but crack her own smile, one that is more blindingly genuine than is often seen on the face of the somber druid. indeed, despite her palomino friend's displeased tone she is amused, perhaps even more so because he is so perturbed. at the same time she is overwhelmed with appreciation for the man, who even in the face of this bombardment manages to remain calm.

she is... charming.

she cannot help the laughter that bubbles from her throat, then, eyes crinkling with mirth at the sight. perhaps it was the wrong thing to do -- perhaps she should have plucked the girl from his leg and murmured a thousand apologies -- but there is something awfully funny about the sight. the colossal male and the small(ish) cub.

"her be a right darling, aye?" a sly grin at the words that came in the wake of her rare laughter, watching him with a glint in her eye that made her jesting clear. "ye want help wit' d'at?" a twist of her lips as she tipped her head towards the girl, wondering if he would teach her a lesson himself, or if she should be the one to scruff her.

Art by Yumpy

in the beginning...

...the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.

      Charming? Now there's a word she'd not heard before. Interest saw her release her grip as her mother's companion gave another kick, allowing the momentum to send her over onto her back. Sticking all four paws into the air, she gazed up at them both with a snaggle-toothed expression. Calypso offered to help, and the cub beamed a confident smile up at her mother.
      "Nah. I'm'a good. I fought tha beast to a stan'still." Pale eyes switched to the palomino companion, mischief in them. "I don't think there gon' be any more trouble. Yer safe, 'ma." A proud declaration of a duty done. Danger had fled the scene and her fierceness would keep it at bay forevermore. Rolling to her stomach, the child glanced between the two adults for a moment. As if trying to decipher something.
      "What charmin' mean?" Ah, yes. She was yet oblivious to the by-play between them. Partly due to the fact that she had been attached to an ankle when the majority of it was happening, but also just as equally due to her young age; Hard to understand social nuance when one hasn't practiced it in any capacity. Come to think... maybe she would never know it for the same reason. Hmm...
      Either way, the cub didn't wait for a response before army-crawling her way back toward the leg she had so valiantly defeated. A worthy opponent, that was certain, but no heathen to be shunned. Tongue flicked out, seeking to soothe the grievous wounds she had left in the struggle. "Don' worry. I don' like tha taste of lion." Well... She reconsidered and added, "At leas' not tha meat. Fur is jus' fine." Satisfied, she set to trying to clear any hint of pain from the limb, leaving behind plenty of slobber if she could.

---

words. 302
tags. @Hákon, @Calypso
notes. :eyes:

code by corvus