Crystal M. V. Rosepaw
Loyal Dibbun
Even if I am inactive, if you need to contact me, messaging me will send me an email! :)
Posts: 439
Main: Crystal Rosepaw
Alt 1: Rikian Zarooah
Alt 2: Kaede Dawnshadow
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Post by Crystal M. V. Rosepaw on Jul 9, 2020 13:48:40 GMT -5
follow-up to Vigilāre sospital: (adj) keeping safe and healthy; preserving from danger**The past few days had not been enough to soothe Zeke’s agitation, and Crystal was finding his demeanor harder to ignore. It had been a few days since Zeke had shown up in the Western Settlement, seeming at war with himself when he asked her for assistance. The vixen had watched as he deliberately rerouted her questions, dancing away nimbly from any attempt she put forward to understand what, exactly, troubled him. That, in turn, troubled her.
She still made good on her word to assist him. They had spent the last few day’s in one another’s company, Zeke following her around on her patrols of the streets and ports; the otter had been unnervingly alert the whole time, and she found herself watching him more than she was watching for danger. She had left the little golden otter at the Abbey when he was still young, still dodging his lessons in Abbeyschool when she was leaving the gates with her sword in her paws. The change from excitable babe pleading with her to play with him to the desperate, capable beast she had come to know over the past several days had been… unsettling.
The cool autumn air had followed them as she had taken him to places he alone may not have had access to. The Western Settlement had not terribly long ago come into the paws of the Guardians, and it had showed. While the Guardians, and namely amongst them herself, took extreme care to try to instill law and order into the place, it was still rough around the edges (Crystal knew even that was being extremely generous). The ruins of the old city, torn asunder by the clash of pirate lords many seasons before she had been born, still loomed and provided refuge to the remaining pockets of the unsavory unbelly that had once thrived in the forgotten halls; hungry beasts with even hungrier eyes still traded in goods and services in the shadows of rumble. The old lords may be gone, all extinguished by each other long ago in their waged war, and the Guardians were all that remained to pick up the pieces, but it still had a long way to go.
Though it was then held by more noble paws and hearts, it was still home to some of the beasts the world did not want.
Crystal called the Fort home, but she knew part of her heart would lie with the Settlement because of it. Her birthright was a strange one; though she had been born into the cold lands of the far north, she had been too young to ever remember it and consider it home before her family had traveled south to safer climates. Redwall had been the only home she could truly remember from her dibbun seasons, and she had grown up safe and loved within its rose-hued walls. Yet, she had always known something festered; occasional lingering glances from her elders, increasingly frequent reminders to mind her manners and be gentle, a degree of extra mindfulness placed upon her… Forever she would be haunted by the day she learned why, given a title for what she was during lessons: vermin.
Guardian Captain Rosepaw, of the esteemed warrior division, was vermin.
The vixen felt her lip curl at the thought, fangs showing, and she snapped the forgotten tome in her lap shut with an audible thump. Her claws drummed the cover, occasionally making more marks on it a surface, letting herself indulge in the line of thinking while her old friend was otherwise occupied. After it had become apparent that he would continue to decline her attempts to persuade him to stay with the Guardians, and that he wanted to continue his travels in a few more dawns once he'd worked out the last part of the information he was looking for, she had instead offered him small comforts; regardless of how much they'd fought them as dibbuns, nothing soothed long forgotten aches and pains of the road like a hot meal and a warm bath on a cool autumn day. She has delivered the food to him in the guardhouse (in a career of putting out proverbial fires, she didn't relish extinguishing tangible ones started with her mediocre cooking skills), pulled out the large basin from where it had been hidden under a for for such an occasion, and left him to the privacy of the small building, seating herself on the small fence of stacked stones outside with an aged book of Salamandrastron hare poetry to pass the time in the afternoon sunlight.
The white vixen's smoothed her green and gold brigandine and touched the sun-warmed badge of her office, trying to ground herself. To steel herself against the idea of a friend keeping dangerous secrets from her, and the tangle of dangerous rumor that followed him. Thinking darkly of an uncaring world and wistfully of good, caring beasts that walked it's tired old soils. Considering the delicate scales she had, perhaps foolishly, placed herself within.
The sun had crept only a few more degrees across the sky when she heard the door behind her open. Her tailtip swished gently, ears swiveling back to catch the faint noise of the well oiled hinges.**
Feeling any better, Zeke? Must admit, you're smelling better already. How many moons of pond water and sweat have you been holding onto?
**The taunt was light, the pleasant little jabs they had been sharing over the days. Though it had been true, in a way; the otter had seemed to have not properly cared for himself in truth for a while. Yet it wasn't her keen sense of smell that he had offended. Though he had grown into a very respectable, fine warrior in his own right, a sense of foreboding followed him, a pool of oily tangled emotions forming in each of the paw tracks left in his wake. Much akin to the nauseating pulse of feelings creeping through her own chest, kept carefully out of her voice by seasons of practice in biting her tongue.
One thing remained quite clear though: he was a civilian, and she a Guardian. The task set before her was creating, maintaining, and cultivating peace, or delivering swift justice when the peace had already been broken. Zeke was a dear old friend, true, but they had grown in their time apart. He was no longer bright eyed and curious, the only weight on his shoulders deciding what he would have for dinner. She was no longer a bookish little kit, dreaming big dreams of long dead heroes and fantastic adventures.
Her attempts at seeking understanding through hospitality had failed, but the fact remained: Captain Rosepaw needed answers, and Zeke could provide.**
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Zeke Ruffgar
Loyal Dibbun
Right Paw
"Good always wins. Always! Not just in books but in real life."
Posts: 348
Main: Zeke Ruffgar
Alt 1: Tristan
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Post by Zeke Ruffgar on Jul 12, 2020 15:14:03 GMT -5
**The past few days in the Western Settlement had only worsened Zeke’s agitation. He had come looking for answers, but all he had found were more questions. Crystal’s questions, and his own. His old friend had been an inquisitive youth, and that trait continued to serve her well in her line of work with the Guardians. But it also meant that she was well-equipped to pry into his doings, and he was running out of deflections. He had been granted a brief reprieve, however: after returning to the Guardian outpost at the town’s edge, Crystal had left him alone with a hot meal and the implications of a bath, both welcome wards against the crisp air of a late autumn afternoon.
Zeke carefully laid his twin blades on the tabletop, well within reach, before shedding his bandoliers and kilt. He stepped into the basin. Water swirled around his paws, and the surface of the bath began to cloud as the dust of seasons’ past fled from his legs and rudder and danced on its surface. Sand, salt, dirt, and time mixed with the water around him, revealing the sleek, golden-brown fur that coated his lithe, muscled frame. Fur that could have been considered beautiful, were it not interrupted by a spider web of whip scars across his back. This sediment was borne of tracking searat raiding parties, intercepting corsair mutineers and rejects, and occasionally even interviewing the witnesses or survivors he could locate. He had built a tenuous network of informants around the coast who knew of his interest in pirate movements and would happily pass along leads. That work, held together by a patchwork of conjecture and determination, had led him to the Western Settlement.
The river otter sank into the basin, allowing himself the momentary enjoyment of fresh water after seasons by the sea. He had spent the better part of a week tagging along on Guardian patrols of the vermin colony that surrounded the Old City, to little avail. True, the locals were not keen on disclosing information to an interloping otter, and his proximity to local law enforcement did not serve to loosen many tongues. But even the few willing conversations that he had struck up with tavern-frequenting locals or purported spies had failed to produce the ship’s logs he had believed were here. It was as if the Terrorwake and her crew had sailed off the edge of the world.
A sudden snap from outside the guardhouse jolted Zeke back to attention, and his paw instinctively shot to the braided grips of his swords. His body tensed and his warrior’s gaze took in the limited access points surrounding him. No sound followed but the rustling autumn leaves in the breeze. After a moment, Zeke let down his guard, knowing Crystal was stationed outside, a capable fighter in her own regard. Patrolling the Western Settlement with her had not eased his mistrust of indoor spaces. In the best of circumstances, being walled in was a bit too reminiscent of the below-decks of a ship for his liking. In the case of the Settlement, the aesthetics of an ancient corsair empire did not help, especially as it was now home to multitudes of vermin, living on and beyond the fringes of society. The streets were full of whispers and penetrating stares, demanding the otter’s constant vigilance. Every conversation seemed to have the potential to escalate to blows, especially in the Old City. The epicenter of the former pirate port, evil oozed out of every bleached stone and splintered beam. The winding cobblestone streets would have been quaint in another town, but Zeke could feel the pain under his footpaws with every step. These streets, this place, was built on the backs of enslaved beasts. The ghosts of creatures past cried out from every surface, their lives lost and their legacies unremembered, stolen by the pirate lords who had destroyed everything that fell within the purchase of their greedy claws.
If it were up to Zeke, the whole port would have been razed to the ground. The Western Settlement seemed doomed to fail, laid atop the foundations of bygone evils. As it was, the Old City stood on the western shore, a malevolent beacon shining down on the criminals who ran the Settlement. The Guardians might claim it as their own territory, but they were impotent, dependent on negotiating compromises with the thieves who found purchase in the underbelly of the port town. The Western Settlement was balanced on a razor’s edge, and Zeke swore he could see it tipping towards ruin.
But Crystal had such faith. She was so invested in the success of the Settlement that she was practically a resident herself. Like a vigilant gardener, she poured herself into the surrounding community, pruning offenders who were choking the growing pockets of decent civilization, and redirecting others who had just grown a bit astray. After seeing evil at work day in and day out, she had the patience to continue approaching her work with hope. Several seasons her junior, a younger Zeke had scoffed at her bookish devotion to Abbey School and old legends, but Crystal was manifesting her goals of heroism right before his eyes.
Zeke rinsed the soap from his fur and stepped out of the makeshift tub. For him, memories of that place only held pain and regret. Despite the talents he had developed from the cruel necessities of his past, no tracker’s skill, no clues discovered, no battle fought could return him to Redwall. No measure of justice could recapture the seasons lost. Better to let our past die, Zeke thought. From now on, his friend would be Captain Crystal Rosepaw of the Guardians, and he was… just Zeke. There was no past between them, and any future would be for fate to decide.
Captain Rosepaw seemed to have her own ideas about that, however. During their patrols together, she had dropped hints of varying subtlety that he might consider staying on with her and the Guardians for a while. Zeke was not sure if this was a job offer or an attempt by his protective friend to convince him to take up residence under her watchful eye. Either way, the otter was not planning to stick around and find out. He was not suited for a life of parlay with vermin, and his hackles raised at the thought of being confined to the Guardians’ fort. Too many rules, too much authority, and altogether too many walls.
Besides, Zeke thought, buckling his weathered bandoliers over a once-crimson half-tunic, that ship is still out there. The warrior had made a vow, countless seasons ago. While he had breath in his body and swords on his back, he would not rest until the slaver pirates and all their ilk were brought to justice. As Zeke reached back over his shoulder, giving his partners a customary tap on their hilts, he realized he knew his answer. The peace of friendship had been a welcome refreshment, but it was a luxury he could not afford. If the Western Settlement was unable to provide the answers he needed, it was time to go.
With his paw on the guardhouse door, Zeke hesitated. He was unsure how he could explain his decision to Crystal without exposing too much of his past in the process. But, without cause, his departure would seem sudden, a slight against her generous hospitality. Knowing her keen mind, she had already concluded that he had a vested interest in pirate whereabouts, but if she learned the specifics, she might try to involve herself further. Zeke’s grip on the door handle tightened. His life had long been forfeit, but no other beast was going to be put at risk to right his mistakes.
He opened the door and strode into the sunlight. Crystal was perched atop a low stone wall. A closed book sat in her lap, juxtaposed against the sword and uniform on her body.**
Feeling any better, Zeke? Must admit, you're smelling better already. How many moons of pond water and sweat have you been holding onto?
**Zeke smiled at the gentle ribbing. He had come to enjoy their teasing rapport, despite his rustiness; casual conversation was a foreign concept in his line of work. Still, something was off. Her tone was playful, and the topic light, but her bright eyes glimmered with an intensity he had only seen during some of their more… aggressive negotiations with nearby vermin residents. He would be cautious.**
Much better, matey. Although now me camouflage is ruined. Fat chance o’ sneakin’ anywhere smellin’ like a bunch o’ picked flowers.
**The brawny otter was not one to beat around the bush. Better out with it now, he thought.**
Listen, matey. I ‘ppreciate you lettin’ me hang around for awhile, but I think it’s time I move on. I’m havin’ no luck around these parts anyway, so might ‘s well make like a bird and head south for a while, see what I kin dig up down there. First light tomorrow.
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Crystal M. V. Rosepaw
Loyal Dibbun
Even if I am inactive, if you need to contact me, messaging me will send me an email! :)
Posts: 439
Main: Crystal Rosepaw
Alt 1: Rikian Zarooah
Alt 2: Kaede Dawnshadow
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Post by Crystal M. V. Rosepaw on Jul 13, 2020 19:23:04 GMT -5
**Crystal stretched, her contemplative stillness and the sturdy stone she rested upon having done nothing for her bad leg. It was something she didn't like to consider; the previous autumn, all her time had been occupied with testing remedies and reading and relearning how to use the weakened joints. Determination and desperation were, thankfully, traits she had an ample supply of and had assisted in her recovery from her grave duty injury. She hoped, with a note of bruised pride, that Zeke hadn't noticed her cane during his respite. Mostly recovered though she was, she was careful to keep it wherever she was stationed; the fragile, scarred bones under her skin seemed to ache more intensely at changes of weather and long periods of inactivity.**
Much better, matey. Although now me camouflage is ruined. Fat chance o’ sneakin’ anywhere smellin’ like a bunch o’ picked flowers.
Rose scented, of course, its in the name and all. Be thankful I let you use my soaps; now you can disguise yourself as a civilized beast!
**The joints gave an irritated twinge as she shifted to look at her companion, bright jade eyes looking him over. Clean fur did little to hide sections of scarred flesh, and though she had made sure over the days to not let her eyes linger, it had been difficult not to notice. Though the crosshatching of scars across his back held more mystery, the vixen was sure of the culprit of those at his wrists: shackles. Part of her training had been to have the horrid things placed on her own forepaws, to know the weight of them should she ever have to be tasked in placing them upon another beast, making sure she knew it was an action taken only as a last resort. She was glad that, unlike some of the sneaky Guardian rogues, she didn't have to work with the vile chunks of metal often; she much preferred breaking chains to picking locks.
Crystal didn't like that Zeke, apparently, had some degree of experience with imprisonment; a fairly lengthy experience, she was sure, to leave such scars. The mystery was why he had that experience.
She had seen his prowess during his stay at the Settlement. Even without the pair of blades across his back that he seemed incredibly drawn to (she frequently found him tapping his claws against their hilts, or shifting his weight to feel their cases against his fur like a reassurance of their presence), he was a creatures much more hardened by time than she remembered. Remembering back, she knew both of them had taken to bounding after the Skipper in their youthful seasons, pestering the poor old otter for stories and lessons. It surprised Crystal little to see her old friend had taken those apparent old tales to heart and take up a warrior life, but something about it still made her itch like a pelt full of fleas.
She shifted, drawing her broadsword in closer to herself to create more space, and tapped her paw against the stones next to her in invitation for him to join her. Besides that it would be more welcoming and hospitable, it would give her a better angle to observe the network of scarring he carried, now that the dust and grime of travel had been washed away. She pulled her tail into her lap, ears twitching as she listened.**
Listen, matey. I ‘ppreciate you lettin’ me hang around for awhile, but I think it’s time I move on. I’m havin’ no luck around these parts anyway, so might ‘s well make like a bird and head south for a while, see what I kin dig up down there. First light tomorrow.
**Ah, and there it was. The vixen had suspected he wouldn't stay with her much longer; the more he asked questions around the Western Settlement, the more agitated it seemed he became when he came up empty-pawed. Yet, she had made her offers to shelter him in good faith, even as her sense of worry grew.**
So soon?
**I can't let him go yet, she thought, tailtip twitching. As much as he doesn't want to talk to me, I need answers. Either something is wrong and there's something in the Settlement I need to be aware of… Or he's up to something.
That line of reasoning wasn't one she liked, but shying away from uncomfortable topics hadn't been how she had gotten her badge. To ignore the possibility would be a disservice to her higher ups who had trusted her at her post. Trust was the fickle commodity that held the Guardians together; if they couldn't trust her to push past her discomfort, they couldn't trust her in the field. If she was useless in the field, she was useless in the battlefield. If that was the case, she couldn't call the Fort her home. Things snowballed.
Even if she didn't like it, it stood to reason. He hasn't done much to hide his clear distaste for the Settlement, and even less for the largely 'vermin' populace within it. That was, unfortunately, unsurprising. Even during their dibbunhood, Crystal had felt the sting of watchful eyes upon her, seemingly waiting for some misstep so that they could use the word at her.**
… We need to talk, Ezekiel. **The Captain was careful with her voice, even if dread and shame fluffed the fur at her spine. Low, slow words, delivery kept toneless, giving him as little as she could to work with. In the Settlement, rumor traveled fast and was a currency all its own, if one knew which doors to open and ears to bend, and it's inhabitants were a survival oriented sort. She hadn't missed the way words stopped when he approached; as much as he may have wished to think it was his proximity to law enforcement, she was growing more sure it was him. Her fellow 'vermin' could smell blood in the waters, and were quick to reroute an incoming shark.**
You're hiding something from me. You know the work I do. I need to know. Why?
**Her paws tensed on the time, then relaxed. Even she was starting to notice dangerous waters herself, and training reflexes were kicking in. Zeke was a slighted beast, in an area he seemed to consider beneath him, and was dangerous because of it. His speaking to her though… That made him unpredictable. Even though she didn't want to give him some sort of provocation, she had to know, and time had evidently run out for her to puzzle things out indirectly.
Even as toneless as she tried to keep her voice, she couldn't help the way the heartache and sheer disappointment that dripped from her fangs and she glanced sideways at him, watching him with a wary stillness.**
Is it because of what I am?
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Zeke Ruffgar
Loyal Dibbun
Right Paw
"Good always wins. Always! Not just in books but in real life."
Posts: 348
Main: Zeke Ruffgar
Alt 1: Tristan
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Post by Zeke Ruffgar on Jul 17, 2020 22:23:43 GMT -5
**Crystal’s claws tapped out an invitation on the stone wall beside her. For one brief instant, Zeke moved to sit. He almost asked her to forget it, almost told her he would stay. It had been a lifetime since the otter could remember sitting with a friend. Wanting nothing. Fearing no beast. Full of wild dreams and frivolous hopes. A wave of brine and rot and cedar broke over the memory, carrying it away. That part of him was dead and buried on a rocky shore along with the last friend he had sat beside.
His weakness passed as quickly as it had come. He had not moved. The empty stone next to Captain Rosepaw grew cold without company to shield it from the autumn air. He was only a few pawsteps away, but they were lifetimes apart.**
So soon?
**The question hung suspended with the falling leaves, swirling around him on eddies and currents in the wind. Zeke did not have an answer, even for himself. The whispers that had brought him to the Western Settlement were his strongest lead in seasons. There was something here that was not right, beyond the subculture of petty crime. His contacts were certain that searats and corsairs had been charting a course through the port. While the past few days had been fruitless, some sixth sense in the vigilante otter remained alert. Something was not right.
Crystal's piercing green eyes snapped back to his own, arresting his train of thought and probing him for some crack or flaw. Zeke squirmed under her gaze. He had the horrible feeling that he had been judged and found wanting. Finally, she broke the silence.**
We need to talk, Ezekiel.
**The name struck him like lightning, electricity coursing through every muscle fiber in his body. The world went black, then flashed blinding white. His legs almost buckled beneath him as a tempest of memory erupted in his mind, overloading his senses.
Ezekiel? Ezekiel Slipstream Ruffgar! His mother’s voice rang out over the Abbey grounds. A golden-furred otter kit ducked behind a strawberry bush with an owlet in hot pursuit, teasing him by parroting the name. Ezekiel, I dunno. Zeke - how’s that? A li’l name for a li’l warrior. Skipper of Otters reached down, tousling the headfur of the young’un before him. With a great deal of ceremony, he presented him with his very own sling. Ezekiel… what are we going to do with you? The mouse removed his spectacles, rubbing his nose bridge with a weary paw. Behind the abbot stood a stern-faced council of elders. Outside the chamber doors, the whimpers of another young’un faded away as they were led off to the Infirmary. Ezekiel? Ezekiel!? His father’s voice rang out from the walltops into the pitch-dark night. In the woods below, the young otter brushed away an angry tear. He slung the sack of pilfered supplies over his shoulder, checked the sling at his waist, and loped off into the night. He never looked back.**
You're hiding something from me. You know the work I do. I need to know. Why?
**Her words whiplashed the otter back to the present. Measured and clear, they stood in grotesque contrast to her bearing. Her jade eyes hardened to flint, every sinew of her body tensed as if she were preparing to leap into action. Zeke’s warrior instincts kicked in. His pulse began to climb. His gaze slid into soft focus, widening his peripheries, wary of approach.**
Is it because of what I am?
**He was blindsided by the question. What she is… a Guardian? Why would I-
Oh.
His mind caught up to his ears. Pain leaked through in her voice, pain long hidden behind a veneer of confidence. Zeke’s heart sank like a stone. He felt like his chest was being torn apart, faced with a contradiction he could not resolve.
Zeke had survived seasons of abuse and torture at the hands of the most despicable creatures in existence. He had seen the wreckage of pillaged homes. He had buried the remains of the young and old who did not survive the raids. And he had fought to bring those monsters to swift justice. His whole life revolved around one irrefutable truth: vermin were evil.
But Crystal was vermin.
He looked at the vixen sitting on the stone wall. Her mouth was still parted, question unanswered. Her sharp incisors were flanked by prominent canines. Her paw rested on her sword hilt, terminating in a set of fearsome claws. She was Captain Crystal Rosepaw, Guardian of Mossflower, Redwaller, his friend. And a fox.
There was too much to process. He could not breathe. He could not think. He could not move. A stiff breeze could have knocked the seasoned warrior off his feet. Nausea rose to his throat as his past agonies spiraled within him in an endless whirlpool.
They cannot take your mind. They cannot take your heart. They cannot take your goodness. The secret whisper of an old friend bubbled up through the chaos. No beast can take it from you. Do not throw it away. He broke through to the surface. The waters still raged, but he could tread until they were calmer. He would not drown today.
Crystal had been left waiting for too long. She deserved to know what raged within him, but he could not tell her. Unsure of what to say, Zeke stumbled forward anyway.**
No, Crystal. It’s not that. It’s never- it don’t matter like that. I know you’re a… fox. I don’t care. You’re a goodbeast.
I’m not meanin’ to hide things from you because of you. It’s me. I can’t tell you, matey. I just can’t. I can’t. Not you, not anybeast.
**He suppressed the rising tears. Emotions were a luxury that he could not afford.**
I’m sorry. I didn’ think y- I’m jus’ sorry.
**He paused, waiting for Crystal to bail him out, but no help was forthcoming. His deep brown eyes remained locked on her own. The otter had never been good with apologies, but he confronted the awkwardness, substituting honesty for eloquence.**
As fer yore Guardian business, There’s some verm- some beasts here with information I need, maybe more’n information. If they were still here I meant to find ‘em, and I meant to do it alone. I know you’re all in on the Guardian deal, and I’m not tryin’ to put you in a position that might getcha in trouble. But I can’t wait for the rules to be followed to the letter on this one. They’re not waitin’, and neither will I.
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Crystal M. V. Rosepaw
Loyal Dibbun
Even if I am inactive, if you need to contact me, messaging me will send me an email! :)
Posts: 439
Main: Crystal Rosepaw
Alt 1: Rikian Zarooah
Alt 2: Kaede Dawnshadow
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Post by Crystal M. V. Rosepaw on Aug 4, 2020 13:47:42 GMT -5
**The situation was quickly spiraling out of control, and Crystal knew it. She could understand that it was partly her fault, yet… As much as she had been schooled to not let her hot temper out, to leash it and reign it in until moments when it could be tempered and used against an enemy (until she could be used against an enemy), something was still not right. She hadn't used that anger; in fact, as she considered it, she missed the presence of that fury.
Weaponizing that old, hastily buried injustice had become old hat. As much as it was weakness, it was sword and shield to a battered soul; solid ground on which to place her paws and build her heart against stormy seas. It was, perhaps, the furthest thing from the noble ideals she had pledged to uphold. Perhaps it was just a sense of selfishness to take up arms, not entirely in defense of good creatures, but also in defense of herself. Regardless of her motivations, the vixen knew well the memory of a little white-furred kit suddenly knowing the weight of an unjust world.
Perhaps sword and shield were not good enough, not what she needed. Battle was not something Crystal feared, nor had it ever been. She has crossed blades with beasts bigger and more powerful than she and felt only the thrill of a fight and the lust to prove herself. That desire drove her, hardened her, guided every sweep of her sword and step of her paws. It built her a morality worth fighting for.
And yet Zeke was not a beast weighed down by a moral injustice; unlike her own, it seemed his scars were not something he could take pride in, even when they hurt. Unlike her own, his hurts were not intangible and hidden entirely in his heart; they were obvious and still, in a sense, bleeding. Two different outcomes, but they had learned the same lesson: the world, regardless of its glory, was ugly. Her bad leg gave another painful twinge, and she ignored it by force of will.
Heart heavy, Crystal looked back at Zeke, bracing herself for a verbal war, as she had grown uncomfortably accustomed. What she found, however, gave her pause; the vixen's righteousness and dread winked out like a flickering candle flame when she met his gaze. From her work, she knew the signs of an overwhelmed mind and a broken spirit; she had lost brothers and sisters in arms, buried her fallen comrades. She had tried to comfort victims and make sense of aftermath so she could pursue justice. She had seen her friends sometimes have to put down the burden of their duties to spare their minds. It was a miserable occupational hazard.
Crystal did not like seeing that dreadful crumbling of a beast's persona, and she liked it even less when it happened to one she had grown up with.
Underneath the heavy aroma of rose perfumes, her keen sense of smell alerted to the scent of sweat. She was sure the poor otter could not look more taken aback if she had drawn her sword on him. From the tiny quakes of his trembling whiskers to the haunted look in his eye, it was evident that she had, somehow, pushed too far too fast. But she had to know. She had to know.
Is he… Empty night, is he crying? Oh, Ezekiel...**
-tal. It’s not that. It’s never- it don’t matter like that. I know you’re a… fox. I don’t care. You’re a goodbeast.
**She tried to keep up her best level Guardian stare, to harden her heart to whatever apparent suffering she inflicted, to keep pursuing whatever she needed to right things, but even she could feel the facade eroding away like thousands of tiny grains of sand. Her gaze softened in spite of herself, though she did not interrupt; from the way his breath caught and hitched in his throat, she knew he had more to say. Oh Zeke, she thought again, I'm so sorry. You can't understand. I’m both. I’ll always be both.**
I’m not meanin’ to hide things from you because of you. It’s me. I can’t tell you, matey. I just can’t. I can’t. Not you, not anybeast.
**The righteous anger was gone, and only misery remained. Regardless of whatever he perhaps thought of her kind, it could not change her heart. You're tearing yourself apart. Let me help you!**
I’m sorry. I didn’ think y- I’m jus’ sorry.
**Something was tearing. Crystal wasn't sure what, but she could feel the slow rip within herself. She still didn't know. Her training yowled that it was important but it wouldn't part her jaws. Even if he was a dangerous beast she may have to cross swords with eventually like good sense suggested, she couldn't believe it. Something didn’t track.
The beasts of the Settlement had a good nose for danger, the vixen knew. Even when questioning failed, silent observation had saved the Guardians untold amounts of trouble. The mannerisms of beasts known for their survival amidst their harsh environment had reacted to some sort of danger amongst them, and she knew it. While they never, as a whole, treated her with any particular warmth, since the moment of Zeke’s arrival even those she had built good rapport with seemed wary. Even she, herself, had begun to react to the changing social climate, much to her then chagrin. Good sense would imply the otter was the cause of that communal fear.
But… If he had truly done something quite so terrible, there was no evidence. Zeke wasn’t exactly the most subtle beast; like herself, his pelt made him stand out, making no mention of his scars and garb. If some other governing body had seen to it to deliver swift and serious justice to him for some perceived crime, surely it would have been a simple task to spread word to the Guardians to keep watch for him. From there, word surely would have been delivered to her by then; he had been in the Settlement for days, and the Fort was only one night away with a competent runner. She wasn’t a green recruit anymore either, and locating a lone and dangerous warrior who may seek to cause harm was a task that would have been given to every single officer. Their number was not too great to slow the spread of information, even if it had been wrapped in several layers of bureaucracy; often half the Fort knew the goings-on of Mossflower before the ink of an official report had dried on the page.
Crystal’s tailtip tapped a steady rhythm against the tome in her lap as she thought furiously. She had nearly brought him to collapse with a meager pawful of words; if whatever had had done had warranted the use of manac- No. Doesn’t bear thinking about. It doesn’t line up.
Reason could only get her so far when she lacked all the pieces to a puzzle; she wasn’t War Commander, meant to unravel mysteries in moments. She blew out a soft breath with a whispered curse, making her choice. Her bones creaked as she shifted; even if her instincts had lead her wrong before, even if they’d nearly brought her to ruin… Whatever he had done, or whatever had been done to him, it could not change her heart.
Thankfully, Zeke had seemed to seek a way to fill the silence of her internal debate. She looked to him again, narrowly avoiding locking gazes with him, instead letting her eyes focus on the tip of his muzzle rather than his tormented eyes. What had transpired, whatever was still transpiring, she knew she had done him as much damage as if she had run him through with her inherited blade. They were sad, haunted eyes, and she did not want to see whatever lie behind them.**
As fer yore Guardian business, There’s some verm- (**Crystal did not miss the slip, and the tip of one ear twitched sadly; a fencer acknowledging a point scored.**) some beasts here with information I need, maybe more’n information. If they were still here I meant to find ‘em, and I meant to do it alone. I know you’re all in on the Guardian deal, and I’m not tryin’ to put you in a position that might getcha in trouble. But I can’t wait for the rules to be followed to the letter on this one. They’re not waitin’, and neither will I.
Guardians do more than wage war, my friend. **Her wording was careful, slowly chosen as she worked to keep the moment of peace.** An organization of large scope has more resources than just able fighting paws and an armory. It takes all sorts. Maybe I can work up information with different tactics than yours? Lone beasts have a bigger margin for error.
**The vixen shrugged her shoulders, setting her book aside, having lost her taste for the epics for right then. What use was worn old fiction when a more tangible tragedy was playing out a few whiskerlengths away from her? The business talk, though easier, seemed to be the less pressing matter.
That aside, whatever he was planning, he wasn’t in a state to see it through himself then. His breathing was still off, voice still rougher than it should have been. He was clearly teetering on the edge of some sort of break, and her order of duties seemed quite apparent: clear the air between them, and then work out a way to see to her task of aiding and protecting a civilian. Even if she was a Guardian… badge or no, they had a longer history than that.
Crystal patted the wall beside her again, reaffirming the invitation. She would attempt to handle the situation with softer paws. She didn’t let her gaze linger, turning her attention back towards the Settlement and the distant figures milling about to go about their afternoon errands, giving him the space she would have wanted in order to nurse a fractured ego.**
Though, Zeke, if I may?
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Crystal M. V. Rosepaw
Loyal Dibbun
Even if I am inactive, if you need to contact me, messaging me will send me an email! :)
Posts: 439
Main: Crystal Rosepaw
Alt 1: Rikian Zarooah
Alt 2: Kaede Dawnshadow
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Post by Crystal M. V. Rosepaw on Aug 4, 2020 14:04:46 GMT -5
**Crystal did not miss when Zeke made no motion to join her, and her whiskers twitched as she considered that. It could have been bruised ego, she knew, but it did not help the wariness; though she had decided to take the plunge and extend a paw to ally herself with him for a time, the mystery was unsettling.
Rumor had it that little Ezekiel Ruffgar, then grown and tempered by obvious grievances, had an awful lot of blood on his twin swords.
Yet, the vixen knew she could not act on rumor. Doing so would undermine her entire life's work, destroy her credibility as a peacekeeper, and turn her into what she despised. She felt, with the surety of knowing the sun would rise at dawn and set at dusk, that beasts were more than the words they had attached to them, more than tired old tropes, and certainly more than what the world tried to label them. Though rumor and folklore were powerful things, they were not the whole of any beast, past or present.
Zeke looked back at her, granting her the proverbial floor to continue, and the Captain sighed, preparing to chose words carefully. Tension was evidently still present, as much as she wanted to ignore the previous slight against her, and both beasts gazed at each other in discomfort.
He's not about to give me any ground, she thought, letting her tail slide from her lap, no longer concerned with granting him space to join her. Business it is, then.**
I'm sorry. For... All of that. **The vixen gestured with a paw, feeling discomforted by the tension. Her hostility, and his reaction, had been - in a word - unseemly.** I just needed to be sure. But Zeke, you're only one beast. I don't know what you have planned, but… **She sighed, rolling her shoulders, trying to think of how to soften the blow but coming up with very little.** It seems to be taking its toll?
**A very serious toll, Crystal mused as she glanced at her claws, suddenly finding them very interesting. Or, at the very least, more interesting than the idea of continuing to push an old friend she had hurt so easily. She hadn’t been wrong, she knew; Zeke very clearly held the old ‘vermin’ prejudice, and did very little to mask it. Yet, perhaps worse, she hadn’t read the room properly to realize something more was troubling him.**
Don't worry 'bout me. I kin go as long as it t- **Little black claws shone in the afternoon sunlight, maintained in the same manner she took a whetstone to the edge of her sword and daggers. They had a similar work ethic; it seemed little mattered to Zeke when there was work to be done, and she could respect that. However, in a line of work encountering many, many silver tongued beasts giving her pretty, easily digestible lies… Zeke was far from proficient.** I’m alright.
**The vixen held back a scoff, but it was a close thing. Hardly fine, Ruffgar. Unwilling to needle him further, she could recognize a tired, prideful warrior seeking to move attention away from themself.**
If you say so… **Her little claws clicked together as she lifted her paws to steeple her digits. She was a beast of action - righteous, just, swift action. Yet, the problem between them, like some sort of wide, yawning chasm, wasn’t something she could fix with strong paws and diligent swordsmanship. The little vixen envied her War Commander; this sort of mental work, unraveling words to find the truth beneath them, seemed impossibly beyond her, but pride demanded she rise to the challenge. If the otter refused to extend the trust to reveal the nature of his strange manner, she would prove it would be a burden she could easily shoulder.** How can I help, then?
**Zeke didn’t answer quickly; Crystal began to worry she had pushed too hard into his business, that he would insist on leaving the Settlement and leaving her in the dark, and her bad leg throbbed with the nervous tension as she tried to still herself completely. Eventually, though…** I need ya to promise me, Crystal. Yer not gonna like what I say. But trust me on this one.
Like it or not, friend, **she said, words low,** it’s duty.
**The Captain watched quietly as Zeke took the last few paces to move forward towards the fence, and began to shift on reflex to allow him space to sit, but she needn’t have bothered. The otter instead crossed his forelimbs and leaned against the stone, paws draping down. She could surmise the posture wasn’t relaxed, exactly, but it did give the conversation an air of privacy and camaraderie.
Zeke was unwilling to speak about what had transpired between them, but this was business, not old wounds they had torn open on each other.**
I know you know not all the deals in the Settlement are... above board. I've got... reason to believe some beast is playin' receiver fer some pirates. I need to find 'em, and get a look at their clientele, or at least their books. And I need to do it quiet-like.
**Crystal frowned, the motion quick and hard enough that a fang pinched uncomfortably at the thin skin beneath it. Her paws stilled, discomforted by the intensity. The Settlement then was a vast improvement over what she had read it was like in the past, but… ‘Goodbeasts’ always had a way of painting history in a manner to color the present. Though not perfect it was… Home, in a way.**
That... Sounds like Guardian work, Zeke. The Settlement is Guardian land, though... You're right, it isn't always a... shining bastion. Takes time, and it's a bastion of another sort. **Her sigh was a quiet, sad thing. Never defeated, never broken, but tinged with a deep, old sorrow; a knowledge that sometimes kept her awake to watch the stars at night, unable to sleep. She had been struggling in an uphill march, trying to carry a burden she sometimes felt was far too large, and in a body that served only to draw others to point out that she had not traveled far enough in that condition. A reminder that there was a level of perfection for her kind to adhere to for a clean slate that others did not. But there was no time for worries of her heart, and she doubted Zeke was the beast to share them with.** You're needing this off the record?
Off the record. Once I'm through I won't stop the Guardians from shuttin' it down. But if they catch word and spook… **Her pelt prickled with unease as he looked up at her, eyes locking with hers for a brief moment. Two gazes full of fire, reflected in one another.** I can't take that risk.
**Crystal broke the moment first, tearing bright eyes away from his to look back over the Settlement; Guardian territory. Her territory. She knew it wasn’t perfect, and possibly that other beasts were right in their wary dissatisfaction of the progress of changes made to the old pirate lands, but… She watched a few beasts milling about in the distance, too far to place names to them. The largely ‘vermin’ populace was still healing from old wounds of their own.
Her voice was flat, barely more than a whisper, as she watched a distant gaggle of the Settlement’s dibbuns enjoying some sort of game in the streets.** Why?
Because this might be the best shot I get.
Makes sense. But more importantly, why are you so invested? Pardon my saying, but you never were, er... much inclined towards law and order. **Funny how that works. Crystal’s ears twitched as she stopped herself from voicing the retort, listening to the sound of the distant little ones.**
Times change.
They do. I can't just... Charge off on my own anymore. **The vixen absently touched a soft white paw to her bad leg, unthinking, thankful her garb obscured the sight to the mess beneath; scarred flesh and patchy fur that was yet to grow back in full. It was a lesson she had not been thankful to learn, and was unwilling to repeat.** My actions, or inactions, have a sort of weight, you understand.
Sure, you’re a public figure ‘n all. Part o’ why I didn’t want to get you or yore Guardians involved.
**That gave her brief pause; empty night, Zeke was right. If the situation soured, if he did something rash without thinking, she had, in her attempts to keep him close to her paws in the past few days, practically signed her name next to his. Whatever he did, it would, to the beasts in the Settlement, seem to be with her consent. Worse yet, it could appear to be approved by the Guardians as a whole. But he was an old friend; even if he seemed unwilling to fully extend trust towards her, whatever his larger goal, it seemed unlikely he would be able to accomplish it alone, and especially to survive the attempt if he did.** But you still need help. What you're doing hasn't borne fruit.
**The tense silence was palpable. She returned to watching the dibbuns, content to grant him time to work out the logic in the argument; she had done her time playing ‘lone hero’ and found the self satisfaction not worth the risk. She could only hope he would see reason, but attempts to force it would be met with pushback.**
Whatdya have in mind?
My own contacts? I've got a few in the Settlement. Beasts may be more willing to talk to somebeast they've seen than… **The vixen found little use in dancing around the topic, and shrugged her shoulders.** I'll be honest, you've got them spooked.
We tried yore cat's place. I'm open to tryin' again, but I kin only spend so much time runnin’ into these rocks before I take a new tack.
**What a vivid analogy. He’s sailed himself? It seemed an ill time for questions, though, since some progress was finally being made.** No harm in letting me try it then? Maybe I can call in favors or promise some.
**She tore her eyes away from the dibbuns at play, the smile she gave him a bit too wide, showing a few too many glittering, sharp teeth. Too… vermin.** Worth a shot.
**Yet if the otter saw, he was at least paying enough attention to the root of her aggression to not mention it.** Thanks, matey. Now where do we start?
Oh, hold on now. Said ‘me,’ not ‘we,’ mate. **Crystal’s smile dropped quickly as she blinked in surprise, sliding gingerly off the wall to stand on the opposite side of him. She took her weight gingerly, making her her old injury would not trouble her balance, and turned to look at him briefly, before casting her eyes down to her sword.** If we spook everyone, they’re gonna shut us out.
**That got a reaction. Zeke bristled immediately, and she looked back to him, forcing a calm breath through her nose. The scent of roses hung in the air.** What- I don’t want you stickin’ yore neck out fer me while- what am I meant to be doin’? I-
**The vixen’s response was immediate, holding no room for argument.** You can kick your paws up and enjoy some more Guardian hospitality here at the Outpost, I don’t mind. If we both go, you’re likely to not get that information you wanted. So, you get to enjoy a nice little break.
**The golden fur on his cheeks crinkled in a way she may have found amusing if the remnants of that initial fury weren’t still sparkling in her belly, his mouth starting and stopping different words as he looked for some way to change the course of the conversation he himself had started.** I- somebeast has to watch yer- fine.
This is far from the most dangerous thing I’ve done, Zeke, I assure you; it’s fairly old hat. Stocked on food and drink, spare cloak with my things if you’re cold. **Her paws found the strap to her sword’s scabbard, and she swung the large weapon up to grip it more securely with practiced ease. She used the back of one soft paw to wipe away a spot of dust from some of the old metal adornments, then pulled the strap around her head and shoulders. As her paws began to work the latches, tightening the precious item to her person, she stopped, claws resting on the clasp with a gentle click, a thought striking her.** Though I do have a favor.
**Zeke was quiet, and didn’t look at her directly, she suspected dismayed at having been sidelined.** What favor?
**The gentle breeze ruffled her ears, her dress, their pelts, the entire world that had shrunk to only a small area. Just two beasts, once delighted to share each others company, then separated by seasons of differences and beaten down. Two minds, working furiously in pursuit of old goals.
The rose perfumes, thick and often calming, did nothing to hide the reek of infection in sad hearts of old friends, worn down over time.**
If I can find something, I need you to tell me what you’re going to do with it. No running off to… pull something rash. You need help, and that’s my job. More than that, we grew up together. But this could go sideways. **Crystal hoped he saw the meaning in those words, that she could see the dangerous waters he was pulling them out into. If Zeke was going to use some information, she wanted - no, needed - to know that it would only be in just action. She could not allow harm to come to any beast in the Settlement; even the ‘vermin’ he so clearly understood to be lesser. Yet...**
Like I said, I can’t promise I’m waitin’ for all the regulations to be followed. But I’m not lookin’ fer a fight here. We kin deal with it when the time comes.
**Her breath, held for a moment, came out in a strangled, frustrated sigh. The last latch to her scabbard snapped into place audibly, claws putting more force into the motion than perhaps was needed. You can’t possibly understand. Why do I bother? Hard-headed, foolish, flea bitten little otter pup, going to get the both of us the axe, I swea-**
Regulations' the part I'll handle later; just cleanup work. But conversation isn't over, alright? There's some things at play I won't - can't - ignore.
**Crystal turned away, pulling the broadsword to sit comfortably, the weight of it on her back reassuring, and ran her claws through the soft fur between her ears, making herself presentable. The 'contact' she had in mind, appearances would matter a great deal for, and though she did not wish to waste time fully preparing for the meeting… She would need to make a stop, and still arrive there, hopefully, before tea time.
Zeke seemed resigned to the fate of playing the Guardian role of simply watching and waiting for more information to present itself, and the vixen had to mask a small smile. It seemed poetic; after the stress that trying to unravel his sudden appearance and questions had caused, something was simply right about the notion of the knife being in the other paw. That Zeke would be entrusting his precious work to vermin. At the very least, the thought of the poetic turn would put some spring in her steps as she went about business.**
I should be back before long. Make yourself comfortable!
**Crystal waved over her shoulder before starting into the heart of the Settlement, a brisk trot to make it by her estimated deadline. She had gained favor with the beast in question over many seasons, and would simply have to trust that it would grant her some of the needed information. Winning more kindness by showing up at his door with pastries before the evening would, hopefully, be just the icing on the cake. If she was lucky, on of the little dibbuns who were then turning to look at her in interest may also provide useful.
Captain Crystal Rosepaw's boots tapped a sure rhythm as she set to work to set up a meeting with the robber baron of the Western Settlement, last living relative of the infamous slain pirate lords.**
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Zeke Ruffgar
Loyal Dibbun
Right Paw
"Good always wins. Always! Not just in books but in real life."
Posts: 348
Main: Zeke Ruffgar
Alt 1: Tristan
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Post by Zeke Ruffgar on Aug 29, 2020 13:45:10 GMT -5
Regulations' the part I'll handle later; just cleanup work. But conversation isn't over, alright? There's some things at play I won't - can't - ignore.
**The fire of the setting sun refracted through the brown pools of his eyes, exposing their murky contents. A great sorrow welled in him. Crystal did not trust him. He did not blame her. One week in society and a bath could not cover up his brokenness. What a fool he had been, Zeke lamented, to think he could come to the Settlement and not be noticed. Shame welled in the otter, the familiar burning feeling he so frequently deserved. You are nothing. The tempest of memories threatened to drag him under once more. He quickly threw up his defenses. To waste time on self-pity was to spit on the memories of those who no longer had time to waste.
He looked at Crystal. She rose from her perch on the stone wall. The Guardian Captain’s pure, white fur stood out against the spotless uniform and polished badge. She moved with such confidence. This was her territory, and Zeke thought he could feel what an unwanted intrusion he was. She had made it clear she was owed more answers. He could not provide any, but no matter. Save that for a future fight. He had been granted a temporary reprieve, as Crystal left him alone with his thoughts with a parting shot.**
I should be back before long. Make yourself comfortable!
**The vixen latched the low wooden gate behind her, and turned down the path into the Settlement. Zeke remained a statue, forelimbs resting on the stone wall. His warrior’s eyes could not help but study her as she strode away. The movement was slight, but the otter swore she was favoring her left leg. He almost smiled, thinking her footpaw must have fallen asleep. Sittin’ too long on this wall, must be. He ran his paws over the coarse stone slab, relishing the feeling of the friction pushing back. His left paw bumped against the spine of a small green book, abandoned by the vixen in her departure. Zeke picked it up gingerly, its soft binding a foreign texture to his well worn paws.
Crystal was quickly becoming another speck in the distant bustle, but the otter swore he saw her turn to look back at him as she passed a gaggle of dibbuns in the streets. Sure yew didn’t want to leave me under guard, now? He turned aside to survey his new prison. The stone wall enclosed a small plot of grass, littered with browning leaves already fallen from the half-bare maple tree overhead. The solitary guardhouse stood encircled by the wall and gate. The mottled greys and tans of its fieldstone walls were capped by weathered cedar shingles, their edges splintering with age. The single room within encouraged a frugal lifestyle, containing only a pair of bunks and a small table with mismatched wooden stools. The guardhouse was warmed by a small stone fireplace opposite the door. Standing in the open doorway, Zeke imagined a handful of Guardians sitting around the fire, telling stories and sharing a drink on a cold winter night. He shook his head. To another beast, it sounded like a good life. To the vigilante, it sounded like an eternity.
The contents of the room revealed little of Crystal’s life with the Guardians. There was a trunk beneath her bunk, presumably containing spare uniforms and sundry personal effects. Zeke left its contents a mystery, unwilling to pry. A short cane was propped in the corner by the door. He looked at it with brief confusion; Crystal had not mentioned sharing the guardhouse with an elderly Guardian, but it was a shared space, he supposed. The table was currently littered with a stack of books. He glanced over their titles briefly: Strategy: A History, The Art of War, The Influence Of Sea Power Upon History. He looked down at the small text he had absentmindedly carried in with him. Arches of Fire: Collected Poems. He raised an eyebrow. Books were admittedly a bit of a mystery to the otter, but poetry seemed to be an outlier from the rest. Unsure, he set it next to the stack.
He looked up at the room again, and it suddenly felt impossibly small. He swore the walls were closer than before, and oak rafter beams felt like they were just above his head. Zeke shuddered. How, he wondered, do other beasts confine themselves like this so willingly? He stumbled backward out of the door, into the relative freedom of the autumn air.
Make yourself comfortable, she said. A simple command, but one that seemed impossible to the otter. How could he be comfortable, knowing that Crystal was out there working, and he was idle? He exhaled in frustration. The vixen had somehow convinced him to let her put herself in danger for his sake, on the slightest fragment of information. He wanted to tell her more. She was the closest living thing he had to a friend, but trust was a very difficult concept for the scarred otter. The feeling seemed to be mutual; Captain Rosepaw seemed determined to assume the worst about his every word. She did not trust him or his reasons for being in the Western Settlement. In turn, he did not trust her with his target, or his past. He could not predict what she would do if she knew that the criminal in question was a fence for slavers, but Zeke did not imagine she would take it lightly. Her duty was to the Guardians and the Settlement first. They would sniff out and eradicate the operation from the Settlement, and Zeke’s chance would die with it. This fence could be a direct line to Kazimir and the Terrorwake. He needed more time.
A chill passed through his body. The hair stood up on the nape of his neck. He tensed, preparing himself. He was being watched. The warrior turned slowly, casually looking out over the Settlement. Crystal had long since passed out of sight. The gallivanting dibbuns were nowhere to be seen, likely called in from the streets for supper by tired parents. Leaves swirled in the empty cobblestone streets. Zeke widened his peripherals, softening his focus to take in his immediate surroundings. The walls and guardhouse cast long shadows in the evening light. The watcher was well hidden, wherever they were concealed.
Zeke sifted through the past week of memories, working to identify any disgruntled residents he had encountered who might pay him a second visit. There were more than a few vermin who had not taken to his presence kindly. Only one situation had escalated to a fight, and Crystal had been involved. It seemed unlikely the bar brawlers would single him out, but it was possible. A second option leapt unbidden to his mind: could the watcher be on the Guardian payroll? How deep did Crystal’s mistrust run?
Caught in a standoff with an invisible enemy, there was nothing left for the otter to do except wait for more information to present itself. He had to wait for the lurker to make a mistake. Until then, he would act as if he had noticed nothing. He drew his swords, taking advantage of the last drops of daylight for a brief practice session. The twin blades danced around his body in seamless form, his own breath bringing them to life. The flurry was both a meditative comfort to the warrior, and served the double purpose of sending a warning to his mysterious watcher. Slowing his swords, he thought better of sheathing them. He knelt in the grass and crossed them in his lap, and waited.**
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Crystal M. V. Rosepaw
Loyal Dibbun
Even if I am inactive, if you need to contact me, messaging me will send me an email! :)
Posts: 439
Main: Crystal Rosepaw
Alt 1: Rikian Zarooah
Alt 2: Kaede Dawnshadow
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Post by Crystal M. V. Rosepaw on Oct 7, 2020 13:31:59 GMT -5
**Making her way down the pathes leading into the Settlement proper without dirtying up her soft white pelt was a bit of a trick. Rain had visited the beasts there over the past several days, ensuring that it wasn't quite as dusty as it sometimes became during the heights of summer, but as one of her boots sank into a puddle, she swore quietly to herself; she would have to forsake them when she reached the manor, and could only hope to pass off the action as proof of her being dedicated to her work, and not a sign of her being unkempt. She couldn't fathom how the War Commander dealt with the trivial bits of leadership like that constantly; always having to be perfectly presentable for whatever occasion arose, never letting sharp wit dull no matter the situation, always able to dance as gracefully in verbal combat as they did in the training yard. Existing much closer to danger than most would give them credit for, and finding a way to peacefully comingle with all parties involved with rationality and poise.
It was troubling. Even as the small vixen grew wiser, stronger, more competent, it seemed the challenges of existence only rose to meet her; fires of her precarious situation rising higher and higher to greet her again, to eat away her pawprints greedily as soon as she made them. Turmoil that she had fought off more times than she could then count, both the great and the mundane. Tribulations of a heritage she both longed to escape from, and to fight to uphold and defend against any offered dishonors. Fires, never-ending fires, in a world so easily and so often set ablaze.
Her leg gave a twinge of discomfort.
As she drew closer, a pair of the dibbuns she had been watching from her place on the fence darted by her, the little mouse and stoat chirruped breathy greetings ('Hello, Miss Guardian!' 'Oops, hi Captain!') as they dashed off, obviously in the midst of some type of game. She smiled and returned the greeting, slowing her pace as she waved good naturedly at the small cluster of parents trying to keep watch on all the little ones. It reminded her of seasons gone by the Abbey, making great games with Zeke and the others of trying to hide from the watchful eyes of the stern Badgermum in the orchard. Though the Western Settlement was a far cry from easy, almost lazy peace of Redwall, a clear fact remained; wherever a beast found themselves, dibbuns would be dibbuns.
Ah, there. Her bright jade eyes landed on the unmistakable dress of a beast lingering alone, watching the throng of dibbuns. Her educated guess while speaking with Zeke had not been made in error; the fine grey-silver coat the mouse wore denoted her immediately as one of the Greywatch. And if the Greywatch is here…**
Hello, Miss Rosepaw!
**... Then certainly young Greytide is as well.
Unlike the dangerous, knife's edge smile she had presented to Zeke, Crystal's expression was only soft cheeriness as she followed the tiny voice to it's owner: a fuzzy dark-furred sable kit. She could see the Greywatch mouse stir at the edge of her vision, but paid it no heed; she had been of service to the House of Greytide in the past, and knew that its guard would not begrudge her a conversation with its youngest member.** Good afternoon, Preston. Having a nice time?
Yes! **Preston Greytide was, as ever, a delightfully gleeful kit. Crystal knelt down, careful of her old injury, stiff from her time sitting through painful conversation, her expression growing a few impossible degrees softer. The sable began excitedly detailing his activities, explaining some game he and the other little ones had been playing in the crisp autumn sunshine, and she found herself nodding and politely filling brief gaps in his explanation with thoughtful noises; the entire play session seemed a mystery to her, even with the detailed breakdown of the rules, and she wondered briefly if that was just a side effect of her aging. After a few moments the little beast peered owlishly at her, pirouetting on his verbal paws with excited child speed.** Are you doin' Guardian stuff, miss?
**Oh bless his heart, he couldn't have given me a better lead up if he tried… Crystal felt a twinge of guilt for working on the aspirations of a kit; it had become a bit of an open secret to those known to the Greytides that their youngest was enamored with the idea of joining the force at the Fort when he was of an age to do so. Her guilt was alleviated a bit by the knowledge that she had let him, sincerely, join her occasionally for no-risk work around the Settlement. The little sable had, for example, delightedly followed her around the Settlement the last time a large summer storm had rolled through and she had set about offering her strong paws to any of the civilians and merchants who needed assistance making repairs in the aftermath; he had taken to it it famously, with the cheer of doing work without realizing that it was, in fact, work.**
Maybe a bit, I'm not sure yet! **The bright green eyed wink, however, betrayed that she was working. Perhaps not Guardian work, but… Working none-the-less.**
Ohhh, can I help?
**The vixen laughed quietly, the eager response having been no surprise. Her keen ears twitched, picking up the sound of soft steps approaching on the worn cobblestone, soon revealing the dark colored clothing of the sound's creator at the corner of her vision.**
Captain, **the Greywatch mouse regarded her with solemn formality, all purpose and duty, before turning her attention to Preston.** Young master Greytide. Is anything the matter?
No, ma'am, **the little sable squeaked to his guard. Crystal wondered silently if he would ever grow into his foreboding birthrite, or if the lad was too gentle a soul for business (and questioned more, deeper within, if time was showing her a brief glimpse at herself).** I was just seeing if I could help Miss Rosepaw with some stuff!
**Serious dark eyes then turned to her, and the vixen stood, smoothing her brigandine into place and straightening her spine. Though of a smaller physical stature than herself, Crystal knew better than to underestimate or offer insult to one of the Greywatch; each member was also old family, with their loyalty to the house going back to the times of the pirate lords. House Greytide had always had a reputation of protection and loyalty to the beasts that served it. That was something she could understand and give credit to; she held her oaths to Mossflower and her Guardian 'family' in similar high regard.** Peace, ma'am, Preston's been no trouble. Just leaving the outpost and he wanted to chat, and I've nowhere to be so quickly that I can't take a moment to talk to a curious little one.
**It was just outside of an outright lie, of course. Had it been any other dibbun, she would have been forced to bade them a quick farewell. But Preston Greytide was not any other dibbun: he was the grandson of the baron. Another thing she dare not say in front of the the Greywatch; they took their house's reputation gravely serious (perhaps literally, if the stories were true), and would likely not be charmed by her calling the eldest member of the family by the colloquial term often bandied about by the folk of the Settlement.**
Though, **Crystal said, smiling down at Preston for a moment before turning her attention back to the mouse, the cool autumn breeze ruffling soft white fur,** I was thinking about paying your head of house a visit. If he would like, I could walk Preston home. I need to make a quick stop by one of the shops, but it wouldn't be any trouble.
Oh! **As she had expected, Preston's bright eyes lit up immediately. Much like she herself would have once delighted at the idea of being able to hang around one of the Long Patrol, or the Skipper's crew, the little Sable wanted to spend his time around the Guardians in hopes to impress them.** Please, Miss Aubrey?
**The Greywatch mouse - Aubrey, apparently - cast a look at her charge and then at Crystal. Had she been any other beast, the vixen knew what the answer would be: no. But she had previously worked with the Greywatch, and her frequent posts in the Settlement as a sort of liaison meant she had gained some degree of favor with the old family. She gently touched a pair of claws to the spot between her eyes, tipping her muzzle briefly in a curious salute.** I'll have him home safely before dinner, ma'am. My word, and badge, on it.
**Aubrey stared back at her a moment, long enough that Crystal started to ponder if the gambit had not worked, before finally the mouse gave a weary sigh; the little pleading whimper from her charge had, apparently, cracked her impressive façade. The guard touched a paw to her rapier, both a salute of her own and a warning, but the motion was soft and unthreatening.** So be it. By dinner Captain, if you please. Your best manners, young master Greytide.
**Crystal gave her a quick nod of ascent, Preston thanked her, and the mouse then turned and strode off into the oncoming sunset. The Guardian watched her back a moment, noting stiff posture and quick steps. Even as serious as they were, the Greytide was hardly ever that harsh; if they were, it would drive away business from the house. More mystery ongoing. The vixen could have sighed - apparently numerous mysteries had been tossed into her paws, too many to hold, and she wasn't quite sure she was capable of juggling that many.**
Sorry, **Preston said quietly at her side, and she looked at him curiously, before feeling her face warm. Apparently the considered sigh had manifested in truth.** They aren't usually that grumpy. Pappy's had the 'watch in meetings lately. I think the storms in the summer damaged one of the boats, and he's been trying to come up with ideas of how to keep work going smooth.
I see, **she said, mindful to keep her voice smooth and even. That the little sable had declined to make mention of it before his caretaker had left, and so quietly to ensure only she could hear him over the ongoing chaos of the dibbun game around them, meant that it was apparently the Greytides wished to keep quiet. The vixen carefully noted the information, indexed it carefully under 'for later,' and filed it away. She adjusted the strap of her broadsword, taking reassurance from its weight, and nodded to herself slowly. Once Zeke's troubles had been resolved, she could put her efforts into seeing how the manor and it's inhabitants could be assisted in a way that would endear the Guardians more to them. But for the moment, she decided it was best to carefully place her paws on one path, instead of bouncing between them.** No harm done. Though…
**Her old friend may have been down on his luck and in some sort of trouble he wouldn't speak of, but Crystal had learned that a clever beast made their own luck. Social reform, politics, and war, none of them waited for beasts slow on their paws or witless on their tongue. Preston's presence, though calculated, was valuable. The Baron, regardless of his family's dark history, was true to his blood: family was paramount. Gaining the favor of Preston would go a long way in getting the information she needed. But to even the odds even more… A meal was good, but sweetening the deal with desserts was better.
The vixen smiled down at the little kit, shifting her weight from her newly recovered leg, and if one ignored her uniform and blade, she would have looked convincingly like a sweet auntie.** Think you could help me with a quick errand, Greytide?
Oh! Pappy said those were his favorite, I think!
**Guardian stipend really needs an increase, the captain thought with a sigh. How the War Commander budgets keeping us all fed I'll never understand.
Click. The vixen placed her pawful of coins on the counter, adding to the stack, after a moment of counting them. She nodded and mimicked the gesture of Preston at her side, pointing to a display of fruit tarts on the shelf. Some foreign flavor, fruits from across the seas she seldom encountered. (From Sampetra, maybe?) The elderly squirrel across from her moved, wiping her paws on her flour stained apron before quickly picking up the pastries and adding them to the swiftly growing pile.
The vixen, after a moment, gestured to another display after realizing she had placed too many coins on the counter. Preston bounced happily, watching the squirrel wrap up the baked goods with glee, and Crystal stretched.** Hopefully he likes them enough to excuse me for borrowing his grandson's time, eh? I haven't been able to be around much, since I've had a guest at the outpost.
Oh, the big otter? With the swords? Is he gonna be a Guardian too?
**The vixen chuckled as one of her shoulders popped comfortably, enjoying the calming smalltalk. The days with Zeke, even if marred by the growing tension, had been nice, but long, and she had the growing suspicion that it was going to be a long night. Halfway through the motion, she stopped, the feeling of being watched on her.
Her pelt prickled and she cast a glance over her shoulder. She had visited the little bakery enough to know of the figure looking back at her. The elderly squirrel's son, returning to the Settlement after time away, watched her with suspicious eyes. The broom in his paws stilled, and he made no move to hide the fact that he was looking directly at her. Her own eyes flashed, temper heating her core again, the near row with Zeke still stinging. She turned, just enough to make her uniform clearly visible, but the look she received grew no less suspicious; if anything, it turned a shade contemptuous.
'Is it because of what I am?' she had asked her old friend, and with reason. Crystal took a deep, calming breath and turned away, looking down at Preston. Thankfully, the sable had been watching the baker finish packing their order, and was apparently none the wiser of the exchange. She turned her focus back, a snarl of outrage quickly threatening to bubble up and out from between her teeth like a snake's venom, but she fought the urge.
Her paws moved to pick up the package of pastries with perhaps more speed and force than warranted. She balanced the package in one paw, taking Preston's protectively in the other, and gave her thanks to the elderly baker with robotic politeness. She turned with a lash of her tail, thankful the little sable seemed immune to the harsh eyes on them as they made their way to the door. He started excitedly chattering again about wanting to meet her new Guardian recruit friend, and she was content to let him speak, eyes locking on the baker's son.
The younger squirrel stared back at her with unmasked mistrust and the old pain festered. The old prejudices sometimes seemed far away in the Settlement, but… Never forgotten. Captain Rosepaw lifted her chin, eyes alight with old pride and defiance, and gazed back at him down the length of her battlescarred muzzle, daring him to voice what was so evidently on his mind. A pregnant moment passed, just past the edge of what could be considered rude, the pair of them glaring dagger over Preston's innocent head, before the squirrel finally cowed, taking a minute step to the side, allow the pair of vermin to pass. The vixen smiled, but it was something fierce and full of fangs, not warmth as she acknowledged the small victory.
She swept outside, thankful of the cool autumn breeze for being able to hide the agitated lifting of her pelt, young Master Greytide pulling her along with the excitement typical of a young beast looking forward to a treat. She took a breath, willing herself to steady the swirling fire of old hurts, but then, on that day, it felt… too much. She felt too much.**
Is he?
Hm? **The question and the tug on her paw snapped Crystal's attention back to the little sable with a small wash of guilt. Get it together! she hissed to herself.**
Your otter friend. Is he here t'be a Guardian?
I'm not sure, little one. I don't think so, he seems very busy with his own work. **Whatever that work is, a petty, suspicious part of her rumbled.** I think he just needed some help.
Oh, and that's why you wanna talk to Pappy?
**The vixen, in spite of herself, chuckled, feeling her bad temper starting to erode. Though she held no desire to settle down and raise dibbuns of her own, wed to her work as she was, she couldn't ever deny the joy of them. Preston especially. He was a bright, inquisitive kit, missing very little of the world around him in his own way, and with a tiny aura of polite dignity. She grinned at him softly, squeezing his paw gently before starting to walk up the lanes again, errand done and ready to be delivered.** Yes indeed. Very astute, Preston!
**The little sable soaked in the praise, his strides gaining an air of drought with each bouncing step. She wondered, with quiet fading sadness, if her tiny assistant had ever been subject to the ideals she hoped to destroy. If any beast had ever dared to look at him in the way they sometimes did her, like he was lesser. Like he was dangerous. Like vermin. Like he wasn't a good, caring beast.
'I'll always be both.' The sentiment from the argument lingered, a cold small weight in her chest. For her fellow Guardians, for little beasts like Preston Greytide, for her childhood home in the Abbey, for Zeke himself… for herself, and the ability to stand on her own two paws every dawn and keep fighting until dusk. She would always be both.**
**Crystal carefully balanced the package of baked goods, letting go of Preston's paw to raise her own. She curled the appendage of delivered a series of swift, solid knocks to the large doors of the lovely, ancient house of Greytide, last remaining family of the old pirate lords, ally now to the Guardians, oldest bloodline in the Settlement.
As soon as the door opened and the curious eyes of an ancient, familiar rat peered around them, Preston darted by them both into the entry hall, shouting with glee.** Mama, I'm home! Miss Ro- er… Captain Rosepaw is here!
Excited liddle thing for the adventure, ain't 'e? **The elderly rat beamed, opening the door wide to allow Crystal inside out of the oncoming twilight. She briskly polished her little spectacles on the hem of her apron, placed them back onto her smiling face, and regarded the house's guest for a moment, before quickly noticing the package in the vixen's arms and moving to take it..** Lemme get that for ya. Wot can we do for ya, Miss Captain Rosepaw?
Thank you, Mrs. Reedwhisker, **Crystal said politely, smiling and nodding respectfully, before rubbing her aching leg with her freed paws.** The slope up to the House gets easier every moon, but I-
Pushin' yaself too quick? **Mrs. Reedwhisker interjected with a hint of playful teasing in her voice.**
Hey! We can't have a Captain trapped in the infirmary that long, I'm fine! And I could still run laps around you! **Crystal retorted, with the same easy air. Old Mrs. Reedwhisker had worked for House Greytide since her youthful seasons, and so she had often been the one to greet the young Guardian when duty brought her to the manor. The vixen held her in similar regard to one of the sisters back home at the Abbey; a kind old beast who treated anyone like they were one of her hoard of grandbabes.** I wanted to see if Master Greytide had a moment to speak with me.
Eh? Fair sure Toby won't mind none, ya helped him before.
**No matter how often she heard it, Crystal knew she would never get over the idea of somebeast daring to call the Baron 'Toby.' Especially not to his face. But the sweet matronly rat somehow got away with it.** Hopefully so!
Guardian business?
No ma'am. A personal curiosity. Had a thought itching at me, and hoped his expertise may be able to help me scratch it. **Sweet as she was, the vixen figured that Zeke may be rather cross with her for spreading his business around to everybeast. Especially a beast who delighted in gossip.**
Surely he owes ya a favor or two. He's in the study, I'll take ya to him. **The rat turned, and after a moment, sniffed. Though her back was turned, Crystal was sure a wry smile was lighting up her features.** Wotcha got in the package?
Pastries, ma'am, for Master Tobias. Preston picked some out too, if you can find him.
Spoilin' Preston and Toby's dinner? Have ya no shame, missy?
Preston told me he'd wait for his until after dinner, but Tobias… I figure he's earned the right to eat his desert before dinner if he'd like.
Ahhh, a bribe then!
Why Mrs. Reedwhisker, I would never! That would be unscrupulous. Quite unbecoming for me, I'm wounded!
Whatever ya say, miss! **The rat chortled, escorting her down the hall of the old estate. The pair made their way briskly to the study door, one pair of steps confident, the other slightly mistimed.** Here we are. Master Greytide, ya have somebeast payin' ya a visit!
**It was only then, as the vixen looked down at herself that she realized, to her horror and producing a tiny, straggled curse under her breath, that she had forgotten to remove her muddied boots.**
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