Participants:

Taril_icon.gif Kitty_icon.gif

Scene Title Up a Tree
Synopsis Taril takes a nap in the vhenadahl. It is not so uneventful a spot as he had thought.
Location The Alienage
Date Bloomingtide 14, 9:31
Watch For Elfy hilarity
Logger Kitten

Taril is literally up a tree. It's not exactly the strangest place he's ever been, but it's probably giving the local elf population thinking their tree is officially haunted. At least he's mostly respectful, and sleeping close to the ground seems … unsanitary at best. Yep, he's asleep tucked into the closer branches of a tree.

It isn't just Taril in this particular elven tree. On a branch higher up, a figure - sprawled out along the wood - watches the residents scurry about their lives below. There is something soothing about the monotony; the same faces come and go with an almost peaceful regularity. Except then there is something different, finally a broken link in the otherwise unremarkable chain. The appearance of the new face climbing below is of interest. The new face has markings on it, markings that trigger a sense of deja vu that is… uncomfortable. So of course, the only thing to do is poke at it. And this is how there comes to be a large tiger sitting prim and proper on the end of Taril's branch. No one seems alarmed by this and the branch is undisturbed, despite what physics says should be happening when something that size is left on the far end of a branch - any branch. The animal is silent for a moment, head tilted to one side to better examine him while he sleeps. Words are difficult. Words are hard to remember. If the Veil wasn't so ragged here they would be impossible altogether. Since it is, however, she can borrow some of his words. That's easier. "You're an awfully long way from home, da'len."

Taril was- WAS- settling into a pretty good sleep. As good as it gets when your butt's on a tree branch, that is. But that voice? He has enough presence of mind to open his eyes without jumping just yet. The jumping part comes AFTER he sees a tiger. Unfortunately it's less a jump than a roll to the left which leads to a drop straight to the ground and onto his backside. He recovers quickly and still has the mental capacity to ready his bow, but that HAD to have been a cat and the remnants of a really weird dream. "Alright, show yourself." He's going to regret that, right?

It's interesting, watching the young elf rouse himself and fall. It makes her want to pull the corners of her mouth up and back. (Why it makes her want to do so, she does not really know.) Unfortunately, a tiger's smile is closer to a snarl than a laugh. But even that expression fades quickly into neutrality as she cranes a little to better see his new position. "To whom am I meant to show myself?" It's not quite a monotone, her voice, but it's most definitely mild. "I don't believe I would make for a very good target. You see, I am not made of straw." The words she borrows are clear and easily heard, but the feline does not move her mouth to shape them.

Taril groans. Of all the times to be seeing things without having consumed questionable mushrooms… "I don't make a point of wasting arrows on straw," he replies, still trying to make sense of what he's seeing. "My name is Taril." It's the truth, but it's also filler to give him the few extra seconds it takes for him to connect the dots. "If it's your tree, I can move on." At a run.

"Taril…" The large cat drawls the name slowly, rolling it around and sussing out the taste of the sound. "The one who knocks. It is a good name. It suits you." She watches unblinking as he tries to process, head slowly tilting to one side and then the other as though to puzzle him out. "It is not my tree." A pause. "And there is plenty of room, even if it was." It's an attempt at politeness, at least. And then she remembers. Manners. "Ir abelas, I am sometimes called… Kitty."

Taril finally relaxes and replaces the arrow into his quiver. "You're a spirit." He's a GENIUS. "Kitty. Let me guess, one of the local children?" He considers the the tiger, the tree, and the situation he's found himself in and then shakes his head. "I should ask your forgiveness. I'm the one who aimed an arrow at you. If you don't mind sharing it a while longer, I would be grateful. I'm a long way from my clan."

"I am not!" Kitty protests, for the first time sounding not mild at all (and in fact rather offended). But then she stops and thinks about it for a moment - even sighs. "Or, I suppose I probably am." And just like that, the placidity is back. "You must be. I have not seen anyone else wearing the vallaslin." One great paw is lifted and licked at in a very housecat sort of way. "I will share if you will share." Dreams of those who know life beyond the city walls are bound to make a more interesting viewing experience, after all.

Taril chuckles. "If you're not, the Tevinter have a lot to answer for. I've seen pictures. The slavers had books." He has to think this offer over for a moment, then shrugs. "You know, why not? A dream is a small price to pay for sleeping above the ground in this place. I don't know how the flat-ears do it…" He uses the term without the usual insult it carries. "Shut in those small places without enough air to breath." Need for sleep has overruled need for caution because he's climbing his way back up into the tree quite easily. Soon enough he's curled in the safest spot he can find. "I hope you don't regret it. Usually I dream about tracking animals."

"Slavers?" There is something of the tiger's rumbling growl in that single word question. "What slavers?" But the boy is willing enough to share the tree and the dream, so the question is almost immediately forgotten. "They have windows, you know." There's something almost dry in her comment on the shemlen dwellings. Almost like… like the tiger just cracked a joke. "That is acceptable. It has been a long time since I had a good hunt." And so the tiger settles with head on paws to watch the dream that was bargained.


Any additional notes fall to the bottom.