[PRP] Quiet Prospects (Wayward Son x Whispers of Death)

[doomsayer]

After an embarrassing performance against the attentions of Steals Kisses, Wayward Son had realized that his lack of experience in those affairs would cause him to be less than perfect for her. Though this was a great blow to his ego, he acknowledges that the only way to cure this deficiency would be to interact with more does and gain more experience. He would have to swallow his pride and leave her presence momentarily so that he could be better for her. It would pain him to do so, but he knew that this was necessary. He would not be embarassed again--at least, not by someone who could tell her of his inadequacy.

-------

Stealthing through the underbrush and the shadows of the trees, he finds this Kimeti doe that speaks to the air, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, and occasionally speaking with a raven that would fly to her. She seems innocuous and harmless--simple prey for his purposes. But just in case, he would lurk in the cover around her for longer to see if, like Steals Kisses, she had some special way to discern his presence.

[Beejoux]

Whispers had worried for nothing, motherhood has come to her again as naturally as it had the first time, and her babes with the mysterious Shank had flourished. They didn't need her hovering like they once had, brave, fearless little foals that enjoyed wandering, and she, for her part, gave them the space they needed to continue to grow.

Today she was on her own, foraging for herbs and other edible plants, helped along on her task by Omen. She'd found the skull of some small animal half buried at the base of a berry bush, and she eyed it keenly, her head tilting thoughtfully and ears pricked to listen. "You hear it, Omen? That soft chitter?" The bird cawed a response, perching on one of Whisper's horns. Less curious about what the animal was, and more about if there was any nasty morsels left to pick off the bones.

Then its head turned in the direction the buck was lurking, black eyes peering into the shadows as of it had heard, or even sensed something. Whispers, for the moment, remained unaware.

[doomsayer]

It did not seem to him that she had any inkling of his presence, even during those times where she would come so near to his cover. But there was more than one opportunity that her little crow companion locked eyes with him--he was sure that it knew he was lurking in the shadows. Whether or not the crow could notify its master, he did not know, but she continued to look oblivious to his gaze.

Regardless, he decided to take his time observing her from his hiding spots. He wanted to know her habits, her patterns, her interests. One thing he noted was that she stopped and pondered at the sight of bones and rot--dead things that are naturally set aside or unceremoniously dumped in places where kin could forget about them. It looked to him that she had a fascination with regard to such things. He himself had no issues with dead things--the monsters in the dark that raised him never gave thought to his reactions when they tore larger predators apart to feed on them, sometimes including other kin. He was inured to the gore and the morbid. With his, he thought maybe a gift would be a good approach, something they could relate to each other over?

-----

It was a few days before he would be back hiding in the shadows around her. He went back to his childhood den to obtain a gift, but at the same time, he had been delaying this meeting. He refused to unpack and analyze why he would sabotage himself so and resolved to put his best foot forward now that he was here. He put on a smile--at least the best one that he could manage beyond his resting scowl--and walked out of the rustling bush into her presence, dragging behind him a bulky object wrapped in a large leaf.

"Hello. I have been watching seen you from afar and have become curious. I am Wayward Son. If it isn't too much trouble, I would like to know your name."

With even less explanation, he tugged on the leaf he was dragging behind him and lets the contents of it spill out on the ground in front of her. Rolling out of the leaf was the bleached skull of a totoma, fine cracks radiating out from the center of its brow.

"I have also brought you a gift. I thought it would intrigue you."

[Beejoux]

The harsh cry of her crow sounded almost in tandem with the telltale rustle of of someone approaching, and Whispers looked first up at Omen, expression questioning, before turning to watching the dark buck make his purposeful way towards her.

Today she'd found herself a nice little clearing, sun dappled through the leaves and there were wild flowers here that reached for that warmth. She was laying in the thick grass, but she pushed herself up to dark hooves as she noticed he was dragging something with him.

The greeting was forward, in it's way. She had more experience with kin of a shyer or quieter nature. This was neither of those things, and it caught her a little off guard, piqued the doe's curiousity. It seemed shed attracted unexpected attention. "Hello. I'm Whispers of Death." He could have her name, she wasn't protective of it.

Glowing eyes (one gold one silver) dipped to the leaf as he pulled it forward, and she took an intrigued step forward as he pulled it aside to reveal the skull beneath. Totoma, very definitely dead, and for what seemed like quite some time. Her head tilted as she regarded it, an ear twitching up as if listening. Then she lifted her head again to regard the doe thoughtfully. "It's quite the generous gift for someone you don't yet know," she pointed out softly, curiously.

But it wasn't a bad gift. She had questions. So many questions.