HOME | DD

Description
Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!! So excited to finally begin in CanineCoveDetectives ! I look forward to sharing art, characters, and stories with all of you!
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Alright, now. Welcome to the Canine Cove Detective Agency,” the older Borzoi announced, grinning ear to ear at us. I and the Setter had been brought into the place together. She seemed like a sweet young dog, full of excitement at just the thought of her new job. She was more talkative than I, and yet I still hadn’t caught her name. She’d touched about every topic but herself in the time before Mr. Blakely came to collect us out of the winter wind. Kind of him to finally show up.

    Still studying law books, still reading in the papers and concerned with human affairs, still learning what made the world work had left me just an intern at the age of thirty. I was a learned young male, but not yet savy in the ways of the world. I saw it every day: the trickery and the unjust that even Canine Cove had to offer. It was an odd sight, the interior of the place. I’d only seen it from the outside, or seen the officers carrying out business. I’d seen the news, read the released reports. But from the inside, everything was new and vibrant—a stark contrast to the black and white pages I read on the daily.

    The building was new, and the tile floor newer still. It must have been waxed recently for I had to be careful not to slip. Dogs working at desks seemed to pay us little mind, sparing glances if any at all. The faces however, were not hostile. They seemed expectant and focused.

    “What are you hoping to be? Once you start to work your way up?” The setter asked, and my gaze shifted over to her. One eyebrow softly lifted as I took in her expression, which read to me as genuinely interested.

    I took a breath in, tilting my head curiously. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, sweetheart.”

    She let out a soft, breathy chuckle, eyes closing as she did. The setter looked up, back to Mr. Blakely’s long gate. “Aoife Ryan,” she answered calmly. Her tone was even, confident.

    “Well, Miss Ryan, I can’t say I’m certain.”

    Brighton led us through a pair of double doors, into what looked almost like a holding room. “And this is the Bullpen,” he announced, with more vitality than I thought him capable or the room deserving of. The word itself was a bit off putting. I did not like it.

    “And I don’t believe I was the only one who’d not introduced myself,” Aoife pointed out. However, I was only half listening.

    There was another dog in the room, an Airedale pacing the floor that had caught my attention. He was shorter, and seemed to be muttering to himself. Odd fellow. He slowed to a halt after a moment, and Aoife cleared her throat beside me.

    “Em-... Warren. I’m Warren Capote,” I answered distractedly, shaking my head and turning back to her. She seemed satisfied enough with the answer.

    “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Capote.”

    Brighton grinned, turning around to face us. The Airedale was paying us mind now. How thoughtful. “Well, you three get to know each other. I’ll be back with Detective Vallier in a moment.” And with that, he disappeared through an office door.

    I took a seat, and Aoife did as well. She seemed to be holding back what excitement she hadn’t shared with the rest of us.

    “You’re interns, as well,” The airedale spoke, surprising me as he paced behind and made an appearance at my side. I leaned away, though my eyes lingered on him. He was trim, wiry fur slightly unkempt and floppy ears perked. He was muscled, but not greatly. Built for speed rather than a fight, it seemed. Wiry jowls made him appear a bit older, but I guessed he was somewhere around my age.

    “Yes, we are,” I replied, which—oddly enough to me—warranted an annoyed face from him.

    “It wasn’t a question,” he grumbled,

    Now he had my eyebrows raised. I’d never appreciated being spoken down to. “No?”

    “No,” he answered with irritation, accompanied by an exasperated sigh. “It was an observation.”

    My ears flicked back in my own frustration. “Well, then, Sherlock. Astute.”

    His face flashed in confusion. I had to suppress the smile I could feel forming on my muzzle at puzzling the other. “I’m— that’s not my name,” he replied warily. I could feel Aoife watching the conflict without being much able to resolve it. Surely she was getting to know us a little better than she’d signed up for.

    “No? Forgive me, what would it be?” I hummed, feigning foolishness. That seemed to help him regain his confidence.

    “Clarence Fynch. Just Fynch, if you will,” he introduced himself, cocky self back as if I’d not just thrown him off with literature he’d yet to read.

    Fynch. He seemed more like an ass than an Airedale.

    I let my amusement seep through, finally allowing that smile crack across my muzzle. “Warren Capote.”

    The office door opened, and the three of us looked up to see Brighton Blakely along with the Detective Inspector to welcome us to our new workplace.

800+ Words - 100 Fame
Art Shaded - 500 Fame +200 Fame complex BG
Total: 800 Fame

Warren/Art/Writing © 18smiths
Aoife Ryan © Rodwendess
Clarence Fynch © cadmiun
Brighton Blakely / Viktor Vallier © Koilada

Description
Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!! So excited to finally begin in CanineCoveDetectives ! I look forward to sharing art, characters, and stories with all of you!
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Alright, now. Welcome to the Canine Cove Detective Agency,” the older Borzoi announced, grinning ear to ear at us. I and the Setter had been brought into the place together. She seemed like a sweet young dog, full of excitement at just the thought of her new job. She was more talkative than I, and yet I still hadn’t caught her name. She’d touched about every topic but herself in the time before Mr. Blakely came to collect us out of the winter wind. Kind of him to finally show up.

    Still studying law books, still reading in the papers and concerned with human affairs, still learning what made the world work had left me just an intern at the age of thirty. I was a learned young male, but not yet savy in the ways of the world. I saw it every day: the trickery and the unjust that even Canine Cove had to offer. It was an odd sight, the interior of the place. I’d only seen it from the outside, or seen the officers carrying out business. I’d seen the news, read the released reports. But from the inside, everything was new and vibrant—a stark contrast to the black and white pages I read on the daily.

    The building was new, and the tile floor newer still. It must have been waxed recently for I had to be careful not to slip. Dogs working at desks seemed to pay us little mind, sparing glances if any at all. The faces however, were not hostile. They seemed expectant and focused.

    “What are you hoping to be? Once you start to work your way up?” The setter asked, and my gaze shifted over to her. One eyebrow softly lifted as I took in her expression, which read to me as genuinely interested.

    I took a breath in, tilting my head curiously. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, sweetheart.”

    She let out a soft, breathy chuckle, eyes closing as she did. The setter looked up, back to Mr. Blakely’s long gate. “Aoife Ryan,” she answered calmly. Her tone was even, confident.

    “Well, Miss Ryan, I can’t say I’m certain.”

    Brighton led us through a pair of double doors, into what looked almost like a holding room. “And this is the Bullpen,” he announced, with more vitality than I thought him capable or the room deserving of. The word itself was a bit off putting. I did not like it.

    “And I don’t believe I was the only one who’d not introduced myself,” Aoife pointed out. However, I was only half listening.

    There was another dog in the room, an Airedale pacing the floor that had caught my attention. He was shorter, and seemed to be muttering to himself. Odd fellow. He slowed to a halt after a moment, and Aoife cleared her throat beside me.

    “Em-... Warren. I’m Warren Capote,” I answered distractedly, shaking my head and turning back to her. She seemed satisfied enough with the answer.

    “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Capote.”

    Brighton grinned, turning around to face us. The Airedale was paying us mind now. How thoughtful. “Well, you three get to know each other. I’ll be back with Detective Vallier in a moment.” And with that, he disappeared through an office door.

    I took a seat, and Aoife did as well. She seemed to be holding back what excitement she hadn’t shared with the rest of us.

    “You’re interns, as well,” The airedale spoke, surprising me as he paced behind and made an appearance at my side. I leaned away, though my eyes lingered on him. He was trim, wiry fur slightly unkempt and floppy ears perked. He was muscled, but not greatly. Built for speed rather than a fight, it seemed. Wiry jowls made him appear a bit older, but I guessed he was somewhere around my age.

    “Yes, we are,” I replied, which—oddly enough to me—warranted an annoyed face from him.

    “It wasn’t a question,” he grumbled,

    Now he had my eyebrows raised. I’d never appreciated being spoken down to. “No?”

    “No,” he answered with irritation, accompanied by an exasperated sigh. “It was an observation.”

    My ears flicked back in my own frustration. “Well, then, Sherlock. Astute.”

    His face flashed in confusion. I had to suppress the smile I could feel forming on my muzzle at puzzling the other. “I’m— that’s not my name,” he replied warily. I could feel Aoife watching the conflict without being much able to resolve it. Surely she was getting to know us a little better than she’d signed up for.

    “No? Forgive me, what would it be?” I hummed, feigning foolishness. That seemed to help him regain his confidence.

    “Clarence Fynch. Just Fynch, if you will,” he introduced himself, cocky self back as if I’d not just thrown him off with literature he’d yet to read.

    Fynch. He seemed more like an ass than an Airedale.

    I let my amusement seep through, finally allowing that smile crack across my muzzle. “Warren Capote.”

    The office door opened, and the three of us looked up to see Brighton Blakely along with the Detective Inspector to welcome us to our new workplace.

800+ Words - 100 Fame
Art Shaded - 500 Fame +200 Fame complex BG
Total: 800 Fame

Warren/Art/Writing © 18smiths
Aoife Ryan © Rodwendess
Clarence Fynch © cadmiun
Brighton Blakely / Viktor Vallier © Koilada