Row, row, row your boat? (open)

[themascura]

It was such a lovely evening. It would have been a sin to spend it entirely indoors. The sweet-smelling air, thick with the promise of an early spring, had been tempting him all evening. Thankfully the day had been slow. There hadn't been a shipment this morning, so it had been easy enough to drum out his work and get out a little earlier than usual.

The minute he had had a chance he had dashed back to his room, snatched up his fishing pole and headed straight for the river. He discretely slipped out the back door, hoping Steele wouldn't come up with some extra chore he needed to be doing- such as polishing the bar, or tallying inventory. From there, his pace had been more leisurely as he searched for the perfect place to settle down for a few hours. A nice little bend in the river, shaded by a heavy willow and nicely dry despite the melting snow did nicely. The air was crisp enough that he was glad he had brought along the brightly-colored sweater Sandra had knitted for him last winter.

Once he got his fishing pole set up he settled down, humming a song to himself in his colorful Irish brogue and unfolding the little package of goodies he had brought along for enjoyment whilst he fished. It wouldn't be long, he reasoned, before he got a bite or two. He would just shut his eyes for a few minutes and wait for the pole to tell him when he had a potential customer.

The warmth of the late-evening sun rested heavily on his eyelashes, pushing them slowly down. He stretched slowly, feeling his knees pop and relax, followed by his shoulders and back. He uttered a happy sigh and snuggled back into the mossy cradle of tree roots. Such a nice day. It was a shame there was no one to share it with. Maybe he should have invited Krepta...

[Sandeyes]

(OOC: I saw your post all alone, sitting alone since March. Do you mind if I join in? If you do and are waiting for someone else, I can always edit my post and leave for you XD)

The day had been a warm one for the Traveller. She had spent the last many years in a world still locked in a minor ice age, and had grown used to the drier, more frigid temperatures to be found there. Now that she was this side of the Rift, she was struggling to acclimatize to the warmer nature this world had to offer. Otter wondered just how much warmer it would get, with the summer only a promise on the breeze that wafted through her fur now (a breeze that brought no relief either, she might add. Spring humidity did little to help in the long run, she feared).

Oh, sure, Otter could probably shift to a species who would do better with the heat, something with little to no fur. She toyed with the idea of potentially shifting to a human form, the allure of their naked, fur-less hides in the heat of the day tempting. That being said, Otter didn't relish the idea of her human form sweating through clothing, and with the wonderful 1920's atmosphere, knew that shifting to a human with scant clothes would likely end up poorly for her. Besides, as her earlier experiences had reminded her, her human form was rusty, alien to her at this point. She would rather swelter in fur, than feel conspicuous in skin.

Thus, she remained in her canid form. She was still the boerboel, the near black, dense brindling she had wore during her first encounter with Krepta had at some point diminished into a rich apricot fawn colour, with pied markings. With the green of spring still sparse, she found it convenient to wander the wilderness in this shade, matching the dead grass and dry trunks of the trees. She had been in this wilderness, far from the established human dwellings for most of the day, after having snuck out on her own time for a chance to explore. As the heat of the day wore down, her thick fur still clung to it, despite the sun's descent closer and closer to the horizon.

Finally, not able to bear it any more, the shifter circled back towards the river she had drank from that morning. Its lazy curves and deep water promised her some quick relief from the heat still ailing her. As Otter approached the bank, she considered that perhaps she had overdone it, and was maybe suffering the beginnings of heat stroke.. The idea was washed away from her mind however, as the cool water began to well at her hocks as she waded into its depths. Before long, she was submersed. Relaxing, she held her breath and lifted her paws from the rocks at the bottom, letting the current carry her along. Eyes closed, Otter drifted like driftwood, periodically walking when the shallows halted her drift. The cool water felt wonderful, it really did.

The bliss was relatively short lived. While drifting, eyes closed and senses mostly unaware, something snagged her, biting deep into her leg and wrapping about her paws tightly. Yelping, Otter's eyes snapped open as she yanked her foreleg away from the pain, only for it to bite deeper. She was in a deeper part of the river, and she struggled to gain purchase on the bottom of the river while trying to escape the biter. Another twinge as an involuntary spasm sent the leg being attacked into a jolt, causing whatever had her to grasp deeper, she lost her footing all together, going under the water mid-yelp, only to inhale the cold water through her mouth and nose alike. Resurfacing, disoriented, the large dog sputtered and choked, still entangled in whatever held her, by now completely unaware of what it was that trapped her, nor the creature nearby upon the shore who had just caught much more than a fish.

-Otter Mossheart

[themascura]

(( More than happy for the post, thank you! I opened it just in case anyone was looking for a new thread to join. ))

Connor felt the tug on his line before the startled noise made its way to his ears. Within seconds the tugging became a frantic pull. Something began thrashing and crying in the water, sending him to his feet in a hurry. The mournful cry wrenched at his heart, it was a cry filled with such pain that it made him feel like a monster for causing it. He was up to his knees in the river before he was quite aware of what he was doing, pulling the small knife he kept for miscellaneous purposes (such as eating, or wood carving) out of his belt and sawing away at the fishing line. It snapped like a piece of rope pulled too tightly, and Conner had a brief moment of regret when he saw his fishing pole spinning haphazardly down the river, lost to the post-winter currents.

"Hush hush darlin', I'm sorry, I wasn't looking to snag ya!" He hurried to assure the poor creature. It looked like a dog, albeit of a breed he had never seen before. He felt terrible. Poor thing had probably just been trying to catch a little bite to eat for itself. He approached quickly, extending his arms to attempt to hold the poor wounded beast, hoping to both comfort and support it while he untangled it and saw what he could do about the hook in it.

"Don't struggle sweetheart, you'll only send it deeper in. I promise I wont hurt you." He cooed, pale green eyes flashing with concern and apology. Looked like there was some wolf in this dog. Probably half feral too. There was no sign of a collar or any symbol of ownership on it.

"Just lie still now, I'll get that nasty hook out of your side and patch you up. Get you in front of a nice fire and feed you up with tasty treats, you'll feel right as rain in no time." The vampire was already making plans to sneak the poor puppy into the dregs and put her up nice and cozy in his bed. He'd cook it some nice meals and pamper it until it healed up nicely. Maybe after that. He'd always loved dogs, and he was more than happy to keep a pet.

[Sandeyes]

Sputtering, there was a splash from the shore, and suddenly the biter's pressure slackened, as if whatever held it tight had been made slack. The pain was still there, and despite the water clogging her nose, Otter was sure she could smell blood, but just barely. She didn't dare look, eyes scrunched tight to keep the water from them (She hadn't thought to add an extra eye-lid like her namesake to see in her struggle, not that it really mattered, as the Changer always hated water in her eyes) Still disoriented and struggling to regain her purchase, she struck out with her good legs, trying to right herself, only to find that something else held her now.

Head above the water, she swung it 'round, eyes squinting as she panted heavily, trying to see what had her now. Above the noise of the splashing water and her own involuntary whimpering as stray movements twanged the thing in her leg like a painful flick to the nose, she could just make out what sounded like a speaker, using soothing, if not somewhat frantic tones. The sound of the speaker made Otter freeze, stock still as whoever grasped her held her still, fiddling with something slippery that had at some point become entangled about her, while dragging her closer to the more shallow shore (a feat in and of itself. In this form she was easily 170lbs, as it was normally intended to intimidate, not even counting how heavy she was wet), hopefully to help free her from her attacker.

Now still and somewhat startled, Otter went into observation mode to try and figure out just what was going on, despite her inner turmoil and discomfort. Ignoring the leg as best as she could, she concentrated on what the speaker was saying, while trying to turn her head to look at him (she thought it might be a him) with little success. "Don't struggle sweetheart, you'll only send it deeper in. I promise I wont hurt you." Whoever he was, Otter believed him, and remained still. She'd have shifted to a smaller form to help him out if she could, but she feared that any shift at this point would cause whatever had her to bury deeper or worse. As was, she just tried to be as placid as she could bear, notwithstanding the few involuntary noises she made, when what had her was moved.

Before long, they were on the shore and she stood as soon as she was free of her rescuer, wet and bedraggled on her three remaining good legs. Looking up at him as he came 'round her side to continue his work, she could see that he was a man, nearly, but not as, wet as she was. He was pale, wiry and lank with long ruddy hair pulled back from his face. Still quiet, Otter listened intently as he continued to speak to her in soothing tones. He wasn't American, she could tell as much by his accent. European, she thought, though her memory of accents was bad, she figured maybe english or irish or scottish or something similar.

"Just lie still now, I'll get that nasty hook out of your side and patch you up. Get you in front of a nice fire and feed you up with tasty treats, you'll feel right as rain in no time." Otter obliged, sitting gingerly as he asked her to lay still, bracing her legs wide so that he could get leverage if needed. She peered down at the leg, not understanding what had got her, until the stranger said he'd remove it from her. Hook? Like, fishing hook? She was got by a hook for snagging fish. Embarrassed at her not realizing it sooner, Otter could feel a blush creeping under her fur, making her tuck her tail like an ashamed puppy for being so ignorant. Of course it was a hook, and it was the line that he had disentangled from her earlier. She growled quietly to herself while she replayed the situation over in her mind, over and over, growing more embarrassed every time she did. Finally, she couldn't help herself, and swore quietly under her breath-- "A hook. How could I have been so stupid?" her voice was quiet and still dog gutteral.

Sighing with a deep and shaky breath, she looked up to her rescuer. Trying to remain still, she cleared her throat as quietly as she could, before continuing on,"Thank you. After this, a warm fire would be welcome." The irony of a warm fire, after her previous, intolerable overheating earlier was lost on her, now removed far from her mind.

-Otter Mossheart
(OOC:Thank you for taking her on! I'm still working out how she could fit into this world, so all the roleplays I can get her in are more than welcome, so I really appreciate it. If Connor still wants a pet, I'm sure Otter'd be happy to oblige, else like I said, she might end up being a little out of place lol. )

[themascura]

((More than happy to have her! XD And yes, Conner will still be pleased as punch to have a 'pet'))

What a good dog. The poor injured creature didn't fight him at all. It growled and snarled and whined, but all of that seemed to be a reaction to the pain as he slogged his way back out of the river and onto the shore line. Nothing he did could stop the poor creature's leg from being jostled in some manner, but he still did his best to prevent most of it. The water sloshed and splashed around his legs, kicking up high enough to soak his shirt and dampen his hair. He cooed and murmured to the sweet puppy the entire time, right up until he placed her- he was pretty certain it was a she, there were no… ‘Indications’ otherwise- on the bank and saw to the hook. It wasn’t in too deep, thankfully. He quietly praised whatever god of fortune that had guided his hand in choosing the hook without the barb today. It was a simple matter of grabbing, turning and pulling. The hook was out in no time, and he busied himself removing his shirt and cutting it into strips with his knife, praising the pretty canine the entire time.

“Such a brave lass ye are. You did a good job, yes you did! I’m so sorry I got you with my nasty hook!” He purred comfortingly, expecting that the whines and whimpers would continue for a bit longer. What he was not expecting was for his pretty little newfound friend to open her mouth and speak. He stopped, a dozen or so ragged strips of cloth hanging from his hand. His mouth opened and closed a few times. No sound escaped. Finally he shut it completely, a look of utter consternation knitting his red-gold brows and tinting his green eyes. Was he crazy? No. Just as he started to persuade himself that he had been hearing things, she spoke again. The puppy really was speaking to him. She tucked her tail and looked at him with the most piteous, effective version of ‘puppy eyes’ he had ever been subjected to. His undead heart melted more in his chest.

“Don’ fret yerself, darlin’!” He assured her, reaching with his clean strips of cloth to wrap her leg in, “T’was my fault, not yers. I should nae have let my attention wander. Forgive me?” He offered her another of his charismatic, warm smiles, eyes bright with welcome.

“Here now, that ought to do ye. Let’s jus’ get ye back to the bar, eh? I left some stew simmerin’ that I think ought to do you nicely.” He tucked the frayed edges of his makeshift bandage into each other. It wasn’t the prettiest dressing he had ever seen, but it would do in a pinch until he could get Sandra to look at it. With that done he rose to his knees, spreading his arms in silent query, asking if it would be okay if he carried her to their destination.

[Sandeyes]

Otter looked at the man as his eyebrows knit into ruddy caterpillars of confusion. Was it something I said? Oh-- wait, nevermind. Perhaps talking dogs weren't so common as Krepta had suggested to her earlier. Otter briefly wondered if she should have remained silent, maybe this was a human--- but considering he was able to haul her from the water wet and struggling with all the effort of a father and his baby, she thought perhaps he wasn't quite human.

He took in in stride though, and continued bandaging the leg. The hook free, it ached-- she suspected the hook had bit deep into the muscle, if not some of the ligament, but the damage was still enough that she avoided shifting. Shifting now would only prolong the healing, and if the ligament was truly damaged, well it might tear in a new form. She watched him work in silence, as he chattered on stoically. He seemed embarrassed by the accident, and certainly off put by her talking, but his tone indicated that he hid those emotions well. "Don’ fret yerself, darlin’! T’was my fault, not yers. I should nae have let my attention wander. Forgive me?”

She instead glanced down at her leg, now unhooked, and bound, she lifted it up to inspect the dressing. It wouldn't have been a deep wound-- no major arteries were hit, because she wasn't bleeding badly. He didn't need to sacrifice his shirt for such a thing, at least not in Otter's mind. Even muscle and ligament wounds were far from her heart. Looking back up, satisfied she tried a doggish smile, if a tired one at that. "It would be wrong of me not to forgive you, especially considering the help you've given. Thank you sir, thank you. " Her stump wagged slightly, as she rolled herself forward slowly to her feet, the hurt leg reluctantly holding her weight.

"Here now, that ought to do ye. Let’s jus’ get ye back to the bar, eh? I left some stew simmerin’ that I think ought to do you nicely.” On queue, her traitor stomach growled at the word stew. Lifting her leg as she considered, Otter looked toward him. "Food sounds fantastic right about now, it really does. " She cautiously tried the leg again, testing to see if she'd be able to at least limp along with him. The leg, as traitorous as her stomach, disagreed. Well, walking is out of the question now. Looking up at the man, she wagged piteously. He graciously offered his arms to carry her, and Otter accepted, hobbling towards him on three feet.

Otter sighed as they made their way to the bar he spoke of. Relaying the event back through her mind she realized she had no idea who he was, and he probably had no idea who she was either. She also realized that he lost his rod because of her-- good fishing rods were like good bows, hard to come by. The thought stung, as she realized that she had just lost this nice mans fishing rod-- maybe when she was healed up she'd go search for it for him.

"I'm sorry you lost your fishing rod. If I'd have realized that it was a hook that got me and not some strange creature attacking me, I'd have struggled less. I'm Otter by the way-- though, I do my namesake no justice." she chuckled, the adrenaline making her lame joke amusing in her mind.

-Otter Mossheart
(OOC: And Otter would be just as enthralled to have a companion. Sorry for the posting delay, I had some RL stuff come up unexpectedly.)