04th Anomaly . spam

[dinosize]

[ Stephen never quite relaxes. Even though he's in his element, even though it gives him a thrill every time breathing in the thick, pure air. Even as he finds himself smiling at the sun trickling down through the leaves. He can't quite stop expecting a monster to break the spell.

Find him:

At night, he makes campfire. Flickering light and shifting shadow. Follow the sight of the flames, the smell of wood smoke and cooking fish and meat. He will be close by his pack, rifle within easy reach, curled up in a hollow or against a log.

During the day: fishing. Careful hunting, making sure the shots he takes are to animals, not the little sentient bears or people from the Barge. (Try not to get in the way of a bullet, please, everyone.)

He pushes out and explores the forest.

Wades in the streams.

Swims in the pools, not particularly worried about nakedness. (This is probably the only time the rifle ends up away from his hands.)

Once, early on, he finds he's being followed by a group of creatures like little bears rustling the leaves around him. He calls out hello, and they burst out of their cover, brandishing spears. He raises his hands, slowly. - Help him? ]

Comments

[versusnurture]

[She appears behind him in the woods while he's fishing. She's quiet, but not silent. Just watching. She seems whole and healthy, if a little wan and unused to the sun and space.]

[Fishing. She doesn't know how.]

[dinosize]

[ He doesn't ever quite relax his guard, and he senses, viscerally and suddenly, that he is being watched. Twists around, his hand going to the knife at his thigh -

And then relaxes, slowly. ]

Hello.

[ She did hurt someone. He wouldn't say he's totally at ease. But what he saw looked more like trauma to him than... evil. Not that he's at all sure he could recognize evil. ]

Out for some fresh air?

[versusnurture]

Hi.

[Her gaze snags on the knife like lace on a splinter. She bites her lip, then looks up at him, curious.]

Yes. I haven't really been . . . outside. In a while.

Did you catch anything?

[dinosize]

[ It's a hunting knife, not made for throwing or fighting, not really. It's the sort of thing you take along when you need something multipurpose. He wouldn't be much good with it in a fight, but it would be better than nothing.

LIttle shake of his head. ]

Just started.

[ His trousers are rolled up to the knee. Bare feet. One curled up in front of him, one still in the water. ]

I'd probably have more luck with game.

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison was in the middle of tracking something for dinner later, a nice, fat little creature that reminded her of a rabbit, when she came across someone else who may or may not have been tracking her kill.

Bow slung across her back, Allison moves cautiously towards the guy with the rifle, coming from the side. She doesn't want to scare his target if he's not aiming for hers, and she doesn't want to get shot, since she's just finishing her own death toll...but she doesn't want to lose her own prey, either.

Nearing his side, she makes sure she's in his peripheral vision, rustling just enough leaves to alert him to her presence...and only then recognizes the guy she talked to just after she woke up in the infirmary. He looks a lot like the man who killed her, but less...hard. There's a color in his cheeks, a spark in his eyes that Zane doesn't have, so the momentary leap of her heart calms relatively quickly when she notes the differences.

Extending a hand, she touches his shoulder, and when she has his attention, uses hand signals to ask what he's hunting.]

[dinosize]

[ At first, he had been following one of the pseudo-rabbits. But then he'd noticed a sort of scratching in the earth that he didn't recognize. It disappeared in patches, making him think that he might be following a bird, or a set of birds. And then it was rather later that he realized the birds were everywhere. They looked exactly like little, fluffy bushes. And he could spot at least one in any given five-meter area.

They kept stock still whenever there was any motion, and then - instead of having wings that were folded and unfolded, somehow the leaflike appendages would fan inward until they made up a wing, and the creature would fly away. He only learned that when he nearly stepped on one.

He'd been half-hunting them, half just following them. He figured the more he followed them, the more he understood their patterns, the closer he would be to finding a big fat one. He's started calling them shrub-turkeys in his head.

He senses her approach, makes some room for her next to him, on the smooth earth where there won't be much noise. The way she moves is impressive - not something he would have expected from the girl on the broadcast. He automatically upgrades her to someone who knows a thing or two about tracking, in his mind, and so treats her like he would have treated any other professional.

He shoots her a smile, a wait-till-you-see-this smile, and indicates her towards one of the shrub-turkeys, standing utterly still. It's like a trick picture; it looks like a plant right up until you see the beak and then, suddenly, it's a bird, right there, swaying gently in the wind. ]

[americasdirtiest]

[Camping is... weird, so far. It's not actually bad, exactly -- it's just the first time he's willingly spent this much time around his peers since, like, Little League. Even then, he hadn't exactly been a social butterfly.

He's surprised to find that he's actually having a pretty good time, but after a while he feels like he needs a break. He grabs his pack and makes some excuse about needing to see a man about a horse, and tramps off into the woods for some quiet time.

Quiet for him, anyway. To anyone else with ears, he might as well be a bulldozer, for all the noise he makes crashing through the trees.]

[dinosize]

[ Stephen's pretty sure he's found a good one.

He's got a bead on the fattest shrub-turkey he's seen yet. Standing still, it makes itself look like its trunk has a potbelly. He's been following it, slowly, slowly moving into range for a good shot.

This is when Mickey comes blundering in.

Stephen winces, hoping that Mickey will go on past without noticing, but fate is not so friendly. He is drawn to the turkey like a magnet. And the instant before he steps on it, when Stephen should probably shout a warning, the turkey's leaf-feather-things suddenly snap into wings and it flies up straight into Mickey's face, shrieking madly before attempting to flee to the treetops. ]

[americasdirtiest]

[The turkey shrieks and Mickey lets out an only slightly more human sound of startled panic, waving his arms frantically in front of his face as he steps back.]

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!

[dinosize]

[ And now, all hope of stalking any nearby is gone, as the flurry of wings spreads. He counts at least five others headed to the hills after Mickey's outburst.

With a sigh, he stands from behind some sort of fern, letting the rifle rest on his shoudler. ]

Well, now you've done it.

[americasdirtiest]

[WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?]

Done what?! Almost got my eye poked out by a fucking flying bush?

[dinosize]

You've scared them all off.

[americasdirtiest]

The-- [He looks around, bewildered.] The bushes?

[dinosize]

More like turkeys, I think, just... greenish.

That one looked good.

[americasdirtiest]

There is no way that was a fucking turkey, man. It was a plant.

[dinosize]

Ever heard of camouflage?

[americasdirtiest]

Turkeys camouflaged as bushes.

Man, fuck you.

[dinosize]

What? I would've shared.

[ He steps up onto a log and hops down on Mickey's side. He moves like he belongs in the woods. ]

No need to tell me what you've been doing. I could hear your camp from a kilometer away.

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison is antsy to pick up the trail of her prey again, so she's not totally sure what he's trying to show her...

Then one of them shakes its head. One of the bushes.

Suddenly, she sees it all over: numerous birds, all of them with beaks and twig-like legs in muted earthtones. It's the perfect camouflage, and as Allison finally catches on, her mouth drops open and curls in a smile.

This beats the hell out of alien rabbit.

Turning to him, she beams, then with that same careful, noiseless movement, removes her recurve bow from across her back. She gestures with it, silently asking if he minds her joining the hunt.]

[americasdirtiest]

[He shrugs, sort of sheepishly.]

Yeah, uh, Needy Lesnicki invited me camping. Guess she was all outdoorsy and shit before whatever went down. I figured I never really been, so... why the fuck not.

[dinosize]

[ A nod - be his guest. In fact, he'd like to see how she shoots with the bow. He's a decent hand with one himself - something he picked up in between fencing and shooting. Bows are harder than guns. It's about poise, upper body strength, breathing exactly the right way. He knows all of those things. But he just hasn't trained as much with it as he has with everything else.

He's been picking out a target. He can get one shot before they all take off, or she can. Best plan is to take them both at once.

Quietly, he raises the rifle to his shoulder. Though there's scope on it; he aims more with the feel of it in his hands, the vector of the barrel, the wind. He glances to her to see if she's had the same thought, about simultaneity. A couple now, some patience, and a few more later would make a good meal for tonight.

He indicates: she should take the right side, and he should take the left. That way, they don't pick the same target. ]

[dinosize]

She's the one I found floating on an ottoman.

[ He's just clarifying to himself. ]

You're making friends.

[americasdirtiest]

Shut up, man. [Yes, he definitely looks embarrassed now. He scratches his jaw and looks away.]

It's just a camping trip. No need to be a girl about it.

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison nods, and the friendly light in her face grows still, not quite cold...it's the stillness she draws on to hunt, the razor focus and inner silence that ensure she never misses.

Scanning the right side of the flock, she picks out three potential targets. All were healthy looking, and if she can time her shots right, there's no reason she can't land all of them, maybe one more if she were lucky, before they scatter.

Sighting her first choice, Allison draws an arrow from her quiver and deftly lines up her shot. Glancing over, she notes he's done the same, rifle at the ready.

Strike as one, equal chance to hit their targets before the rest of the birds run.

She nods, silently agreeing to follow his lead, then refocuses on the bird she's chosen to taste her first arrow.]

[versusnurture]

[She's quiet for a moment. Then, cautiously:]

I know how to hunt.

[Maybe this is the wrong thing to say. But she's struck with the sudden, intense desire to be useful.]