It Takes Two to Tango!
Posted on behalf of Praxi.
- Location: Western Shore
- Participants: Parin, Praxi
Ambling along the beach, and obviously unused to the loose tread of sand, travels a single woodland creature- a doe, of slight build, carrying several satchels and appearing as normal as any traveler. Curses spout from her mouth as she stumbles upon an incline, attempting to retreat from the sun toward shaded dune. (Praxi)
In the shade at the base of that very dune, a small leanto has been constructed. It consists of a shield, propped up in the sand with a sword, draped in a reddish leathern jacket. Languishing in the shade of the sand and shield, a ferret lies, waterskin clutched in one paw. His ears perk at the sound of various cursings. "Wha' th' blazes is /that,/" he mutters, drawing himself up into a seated position, legs crossed. (Parin)
In a huff, red and blushed, the doe continues to mutter and her arms both flutter, and in her dismay the ferret goes unnoticed until she's practically running into his leanto. She blinks, snapping hindward, and clutching at her chest; a paw wrangles a chain, delving its gem into the front of her dress to hide its sight. And well, there's no avoiding it now, so; "Sorry f'r the disruption, my splendid Sir! Cover your eyes and I bid you back to your rest; just passing through!"
"Ain't no 'sir,'" Parin spits, spitting as well. Against her wishes, the ferret climbs to his feet, pulling his sword from the sand as he does so. An easy flick of his wrist reveals the naked steel, sending the sheath back into the sand with a soft *puff* of particles. Parin bares his yellowed teeth in a menacing grin. "Passin' through t' where, ye rich wayward waif?"
"S'no way to greet a lady, now is it?" Praxi follows this with a few vagrant mutterings, turning her own head to spit into the sand; the moisture is absorbed quickly into the baking seashore. "And it's rightly none of your business, chipped-tooth cur!" She wrinkles her nose at the ferret, unblinking as the shine of his sword is displayed, and being far enough away, slips her paws into either sleeve of her dress to retrieve some daggers, short and cunningly fit for her paws. Unfortunately, his range is must longer-- but she's a cocky kid, all right? It's just for show, too, right? "An' who says I'm rich, anyway?"
"/Yew/ do," Parin replies with a lusty grin, his left paw grasping the rim of his shield and pulling it up easily from its place before the shifting sand lets it slide slowly down. A light toss gives him a moment to grab the handle inside the bronze bowl. "An' I'm /makin'/ it my business."
Praxi begins to back away, now, feet falling swiftly behind her; the daggers she hold are but trinkets to this ferret's armory, and she knows. "There's nay need t'be so, pardon if I'm reading this incorrectly, /hostile/, my... cousin of distant origin," backpedals the doe, eyes narrow and shifting about as she buys time to figure out something to, uh, aid her in her troubles. "What, uh-- business were you, uh-- interested in?"
"Where you bound?" Parin's eyes narrow, watching the doe carefully, searching for the tell-tale signs of deceit. "Speak quickly, iff'n ye value yer life," he barks, raising his swordpoint in the hare's direction.
"And if I don't value it?" comes the doe's words before she clearly considers them, puerile and lampooning. She raises a bladed paw to his sword's point to show her malcontent.
"Ye won't miss it when it's gone." Parin chuckles maliciously, slowly beginning to circle the doe. "Jus' tell me where ye're bound, an' mayhap this c'n all fade to a bad dream."
Praxi mimics the ferret's circling in round-about fashion, staring him dead in the eye as he speaks, praying their eyes lock so that he does not glance predictably to her free hand; it wanders carefully to her satchel, unbuckling it with memorized motion. "Did y'need someone to escort you somewhere? S'that why you're so curious?" she begins to speak, voice inpartial. "If y'r so curious-- m'headed... tooo..." And WHAM! The contents of her bag are sent flying at his face; it's mostly women's things: trinkets and vials and undergarments, and if flourished indeedly, the hare hops hurriedly haway.
It will take more than a fledgling doe to surprise a seasoned warrior like Parin. The shield pops up immediately, the contents of the bag smacking uselessly against the bronzed surface.
Aha! But his vision is blocked by shield if not skivvies, and the doe is still springing away as the ferret finds his vision filled by his buckler, and perhaps a few errant breakable bottles and floundering fabrics. With her load lightened, the long-legged leveret is bounding down the shore, daggers still in hand, not glancing back to see if he's recovered.
The shield only blocks the ferret's vision for the merest of moments. Parin quickly spots the doe running away, maybe half a dozen strides away. Rather than chase her, the warrior spits in her direction. "Too much bloody effort."
And once she's a few more sprints away, the doe realizes the pitter of footsteps do not follow her; she slows her pace, bringing it to a smooth stop, and turns 'round to spy the ferret, one paw shielding her eyes from the pestering sun. She waits to see if he's truly given up before calling out, cupping her palms around her mouth: "Scared of a kid? What rubbish /you/ are! Guess those panties are more well-suited for /your/ tush, in that case!"
"I ain't gettin' paid t' chase some stupid kid," Parin announces, plopping back down at the site of his leanto. The things that /aren't/ panties are sorted through, searching for anything of value.
Fair enough. The kid won't press fate further, so she continues on her way, humming as she trots. On her merry way!
