Characters: Ashva & Billie Killoram & OPEN Setting: The golf course near the rift; Friday May 8th, 5-10am and ongoing Content: Worksafe, no adult content beyond mention of nudity. Summary: Ashva's grand exit into the world of humanity includes the claiming of one mighty duck-pond, harassment of ducks, and confusing golf for militia drills. Status: Finished
In the wee hours of the morning, when the rift wasn't being watched, Ashva took his chance to cross. It hadn't been planned that way at first - it had just taken most of the night to get there, and he'd originally planned to set out at the start of the next evening. The plan changed once he caught scent of the number of beings that had crossed the area. It wasn't particularly surprising others had taken an interest, but if they were creatures of the day perhaps it was best to pass now when they were all asleep, yes?
Having found himself at the rifts he was starting to have second thoughts. It wasn't fear exactly, but an unusual amount of caution regarding a world he was quite sure he wouldn't be able to comprehend. At the same time, the thought was exhilarating. "My ancestors are the untamed and the river," he reassured himself. "I am not scared of anything, because I am the cleverest of clever and besides can outrun even the quickest current. There is nothing there that cannot be prey if I want them to be."
In the end however there was no prey in sight as he crossed the threshold, although he could smell that there had been some by recently. The sky was starting to turn grey as dawn approached and the place the rift had deposited him was quite deserted. The terrain was also incredibly boring - just grass as far as the eye could see, without hardly any trees to provide cover for stalking.
Undaunted, he paced randomly for a bit before eventually climbing the nearest hill to better survey the surroundings. It was there he noted the flag poles - the territory was claimed and colours were flying, but the peasantry and militia were clearly still abed. Well. With any luck he could sleep the day and awake before the prey were sleeping and perhaps pretend to be one to explore a little.
The ponds nearby seemed to be overlooked. There were no tracks leading in to the water, and the ducks didn't seem particularly inclined to take issue with his intrusion. Relieved, he sank down under the water to rest, nestling deep into the silt at the bottom and burying himself. The sun was starting to creep over the horizon and he was the cleverest of the clever but still not all that old, and had walked a very long way to get there. A little sleep would do him wonders.
Ashva's daysleep was rudely interrupted by splashing only a few hours later. At first a loud splosh, then the sound of prey splashing around on the surface. He reluctantly reined in his instincts to drag them under and watched the human's hands stirring around in the mud in the shallows, apparently looking for something. The water was not particularly deep, nor was it large, and so Ashva slipped into his smallest form, the one with two legs. He let the water hide him as he rose to the surface, a creature of water and pond-weed, nostrils and eyes hidden amongst the plants to observe.
The humans had certainly woken up and the local militia seemed to be out on force with their metal clubs. Their drills seemed to involve hitting small white things - eggs? mice? very small skulls? - towards some distant target with alarming force. Ashva had seem clubs, had even been attacked by them, but until that point had not realised their potential as a ranged weapon. That was a new one on him, apparently the humans were quite creative. Certainly the range they could send their missiles flying was quite impressive, and they were the picture of discipline in their virtually identical uniforms.
The palanquins confused him. Ashva couldn't see where the bearers were hiding, and on the whole they didn't seem to be particularly practical. Was this some sort of custom? Were the horses only brought used in times of war?
There were horses, weren't there? He hadn't thought to check. He'd been hoping so much to pretend to be one, it seemed so much easier to take one and replace it, and ingratiate himself that way. He wasn't sure how humans talked to each other. Certainly eavesdropping wasn't helping much. The snippets of conversation were mystifying at best.
"Well, I'm telling you Hank --"
"But with the market the way it is, you know how it goes - "
"Insurance premiums have doubled in the past - "
"And a nice merlot on the side, perhaps a - "
"Oh hell, listening to these upper class prats talk is - "
Well, whatever it was they were saying it was noisy and disruptive, and every time a group left another one soon replaced them. Ashva was getting irritated and hungry, and he was not letting himself eat the ducks because he did not want to be caught poaching on his first day there. Besides, they were barely a mouthful at best, and he liked watching their little heads bobble when they walked. His swamp hadn't had ducks, just great big swans that were sometimes women, and other times went for the eyes.
At least they were no longer pelting things in the water. Ashva had thought perhaps it had been a warning shot, but they'd stopped doing it and hadn't shown any sign of seeing them, so perhaps it had been an accident?
He settled back down to the comforting cold of the bottom of the pond, wishing it was deep enough to obscure the light.
Clothes. The humans were all wearing clothes. He hadn't thought about that, hadn't thought about that part at all. If he couldn't be a horse then he'd have to be a human, but if he didn't have the right colours on would they think him an intruder? Attack him as an enemy? Was that a thing humans did? He really didn't know enough about them to be sure.
Perhaps he could challenge one of them? Take his clothes and club, and then he would blend in. Actually, that might get too much attention, perhaps it'd be better to act as they were prey but not. He could let out the call and be a lure that they would surely take pity on and come close to. Instead of hunting he would let them take him inside by the fire and give him warm food and blankets, and do these other things they did to small defenseless things they felt sorry for. Or perhaps he could just wait until dark and take his chances in the shadows, where no one could see him?
It was hard to be sure.
The sun was bright and Ashva was tired, and despite himself was starting to doze off again. Nothing for it but to wait, either for the dark or for someone to get close enough for him to do... something. In his smallest of forms he curled up and waited.