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orengel — Storm Friends (aka. Baby It's Cold Outside)
Published: 2017-12-05 17:16:34 +0000 UTC; Views: 1257; Favourites: 64; Downloads: 3
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Proving once and for all that the only way Paris can make friends is when the other fawnling literally can't escape
Fabulous RP with HayleyFawns ! Thanks so much for the RP dearie <333
Mid Winter, Year 767 of the New Age
Blackwood, on the Ridgeback Range
Runner up RP of the Month Nov/Dec '17!
The pale stag's patrols had led him towards the mountains. Typically Jett remained closer to the heart of the herd, but this time he'd been asked to go up towards the mountains. As the freakishly tall stag walked along, picking his way through the Ridgeback Range, he couldn't help but think that this was probably where he belonged. Most fawnlings who were born pale were strongly suggested to become mountains sentinels. Jett, notoriously stubborn, hadn't wanted to be a sentinel. He clawed his way up the ranks until he became a warrior, despite the cold scowls that were directed his way due to it.
A shudder rippled through the tall stag as he came to a halt, tail curling around one well-toned leg. It was ridiculously cold in the mountains, more so than in the forest. Frost and ice clung to the thick ruff of hair about his neck and chest. His eyelashes felt heavy due to it as well. It didn't help that he'd been travelling for so long and was completely exhausted. Snorting hatefully, Jett’s blue eyes scanned the rocky ledge for anywhere to take shelter. Snow had begun to fall from the sky and, if there was anything that Jett had learned in the past week that he'd been staying in the Range, it was that snowstorms were not to be trifled with.
Up in the mountains, a dark shadow stood staring out towards the border, still as a statue. His breath puffed out periodically in heavy clouds, but the figure himself felt no bite of the cold. After all, he was used to it, up here in the mountains. It helped that his coat carried a heavy blanket of warm downy fur too, curling gently against his legs.
The peace of the mountains helped to soothe his soul somewhat too, after his somewhat unfortunate ordeal. After coming back from his jaunt to Glenmore – and what a good time he’d had there, last season – he had made the mistake of heading back to the main herd. Though his intent had been to report to his superiors for his next assignment on the border, he had found himself – much to his horror – waylaid by a fairly forward doe who had apparently taken a liking in him. Or, rather, in his presumed ability to throw strong, striped fawns. Paris had done all he could to dissuade her, but eventually had given into her demands. Paris had escaped back to his mountain range as quick as he could after that point, but he still couldn’t quite shake the twitchy, violated feeling he had, his mother’s twisted, hateful face haunting his mind.
But here in the mountains, in his sea of rock and crag, he could feel himself start to relax slowly. No sane doe would make the journey up here in the midst of winter – not if she valued her life. He was safe here.
Paris huffed out a sigh and cast a cursory look around with his one good eye, frowning slightly as he caught a hint of movement nearby. Pricking his good ear and focusing, he was somewhat surprised to see a pale stag walking across the uneven ground. Though Paris’s first instinct was to attack the apparent outsider, he paused as he took in the size of the stranger. Paris himself was no slouch in the height department, but the approaching stranger looked as if he stood head and shoulders above his own almost 14 hands. Definitely not a Glenmorian stag, with a size like that.
Which only meant… Paleface. Paris relaxed minutely, though he still watched the other stag warily, unsure of the stranger’s loyalties or motive. “Hail, stranger. What business do you have in the mountains?” he called, his smooth voice at clear odds with his mangled features.
So lost in thought, the pale stag hadn't noticed the presence of the other. A rookie mistake. He nearly jumped out of his pale hide as a masculine voice suddenly piped up from nearby, greeting him and asking him what business he had in the mountains. Jett turned quickly, head lowered slightly out of instinct, and halted. What he found was, of course, another stag. This one was dark, as a Blackwood should be. He had rather intriguing, white striped markings. Jett hadn't seen them so often before. The stranger looked rather raggedy, with a messy mane and scars littered across his body, mostly upon his face. However, obviously, Jett was not one to judge someone by their appearance.
Lifting his head again so that he didn't appear so threatening, the pale stag bit back a soft sigh of relief. Tension still ripples throughout his well-muscled body, but he didn't believe that this stranger was a threat. He was too big to be a Glenmore, so there was no concerns about running across a Guard here. “I was asked to run a brief patrol throughout the mountains and seek out a sentinel to bring back news, so that said sentinel doesn't have to leave his post.”
He automatically assumed that this was likely a sentinel, though he couldn't help but wonder why. Most sentinels were pale, like himself, or too weak to be higher ranking in the army. This stag wasn't pale and he didn't seem all that weak, despite a few quirks. So why was he here? Perhaps the black stag had problems that were hidden beneath the surface. Problems that couldn't so easily be seen.
“Currently I was seeking shelter from this storm, though. I got caught in one a couple days ago and that sure as hell isn't an experience I'm looking to endure again any time soon.”
While the other stag spoke, Paris looked over the stranger a bit more thoroughly, angling his head to give his good eye a better vantage point. It helped, too, that the slight shift hid his mangled features more – he had seen the way the pale stag’s eyes trailed over his burns, and such attention never failed to make him itch in his skin.
“Mighty good of you to save me the walk then, soldier,” Paris drawled easily, a lopsided friendly smile curling up his lips, though no amount of goodwill could make the sorry right side of his face react much beyond a slight twitch. “In return, I’d be glad to lead you to shelter. There are a number of caves the sentinels use when necessary; communal areas, open to any soldier in need. The nearest is not far from here.”
The dark stag stated that it was good of him to save him the walk. Jett merely smiled slightly, dipping his head slightly. “There wasn't much going on closer to the heart of the herd, so I jumped at the opportunity to come up here and deliver the message.” The pale stag's ears pricked as the other stated that he was glad to lead him to shelter. Jett let out a soft sigh of relief. “I was beginning to think that I was just going to have to weather the storm.”
It was even better that the shelter was, allegedly, not so far. “How about you share your report somewhere nice and dry?” He inquired, much more interested in the shelter that the raggedy stag had mentioned than he was the report itself. It would be good to warm up a little bit and get dry. The only thing that could make it better was a nice meal, but Jett wasn't unrealistic. Maybe he'd grab some treebark from a nearby tree to at least take the edge off of his hunger.
Paris let out an agreeing hum as he began to walk, his good ear pricking slightly as he finally drew a small smile out of the stoic soldier. “Best not to get your hopes up too much though,” he warned mildly, with a quirked brow. “I know the main herd is not quite the lap of luxury, but there’s a reason why the mountains are known as barren.”
The scarred sentinel gently kicked at the rocky ground to emphasise his point, sending a few stray pebbles scattering out of his path. Throwing a quicksilver grin over his shoulder, he began to lead the way, flicking his sad little stub of a tail compulsively as he, too late, realised that his role as guide would put all of his sorry state into sharp relief. Resisting the urge to twitch, Paris simply scowled to himself and sent a mental barrage of incendiary curses in his mother’s direction, wishing – not for the first time – that he had the magic to bring his revenge down on the hateful doe from afar.
And afar it would have to be, as he definitely didn’t trust her anywhere near him. Not while he still had a few other dangly bits that she might decide to curse off the way she did his poor tail.
Ah, shelter. And not a moment too soon. Paris blew out a breath as he came to the cave. It was little more than a rough crack in the mountain – with barely enough room for a couple of Fawnlings to lay apace – but it did the job. Paris turned to usher his quiet companion into the cave, taking a moment to circle around the nearby area to ensure the surroundings smelt as unlived-in as they should. When his search came up empty (though that may have been due to the steadily-falling snow that had begun to pile up around them) he left a lingering cloak of his magic on the perimeter before returning to the cave and the pale soldier, shaking the loose coat of dust and snow off himself before he awkwardly entered the cave.
“It’s beginning to look pretty bad out there. I hope you weren’t planning on rushing off anywhere,”
The darker stag told him not to get his hopes up too much. Jett frowned, a bit disappointed. The thought of being somewhere warm (well as warm as Blackwood could get in winter) and dry was such an appealing one. For once he longed to be back in his den. Ah well, at least he was in company currently. The other stag hadn't said a single word about him being a paleface. Jett didn't think that he was judging him silently either. He got the feeling that interacting with this stag would be a positive experience. “I suppose you're right.” He said a bit glumly in response to the other’s statement.
Squinting through the blanket of falling snow, Paris spotted the shelter that the mountain sentinel was leading him to. It was a bit smaller than he preferred, for sure. He’d be in rather close quarters with this stranger. Ah well, he sure as hell wasn't going to stay out in the cold. “Finally.” He breathed a sigh of relief, more to himself than the other, as they made it to the den’s entrance. He was exhausted, his legs not used to such long travel through such harsh terrain. He hurried in quickly, squeezing into the far side to make enough room for the other. However, the dark stag hadn't joined him. Jett peeked his head out, seeing the silhouette of the stag against the snow. What the hell? Perhaps he was doing a perimeter check or something. Jett quickly withdrew his head, feeling certain his nose was gonna get frostbite.
After a few moments the sentinel returned, stating that it was getting bad and that he hoped Jett wasn't planning to rush off anywhere. “Yeah, I have no desire to do so.” Jett chuckled, tail tapping against the cold ground slightly. “I'd much rather stay here and warm my bones for a while. Ah, my name is Jett, by the way.” He realized he hadn't introduced himself. That might be an important thing to do.
The dark stag’s lips twitched upwards in mute amusement at the other stag’s words as he flicked a cursory look over his unexpected companion’s frame. Yeah, it seemed the warrior was definitely not built to withstand cold, what with his fairly thin coat and lithe frame. Paris, on the other hand, had long since learnt to adapt.
“Jett. I’m Paris,” he offered in answer, smiling lopsidedly down at the partially shadowed pale stag before he carefully winched himself across the narrow entrance, trying to fit his bulk in the craggy space. It was an awkward fit, but with the thick expanse of his mane and his heavy stature, it served to shut out the cold from outside without freezing any part of him off.
Though that did, unfortunately, leave him and the warrior trapped in a somewhat uncomfortably intimate setting. Paris tried to settle his instinctive discomfort at being in such close quarters with another with a shadowed smile and a half-hearted shrug. “Don’t s’pose you’ve got any rations hidden on you anywhere?”
Jett dipped his head toward the darker stag with respect as the sentinel gave his name. Paris. An interesting name! He wondered where it came from and what it meant, if anything, but chose not to pry. Now Paris was trying to squeeze into the little den after him. Jett scooted over as far as he could manage, until his side pressed against the earthy wall. He wasn't a very big stag, but there was a lot of him. His long, gangly legs made things a bit awkward as he tried to figure out where to put them, without prodding the larger stag in the ribs in the process.
Paris smiled again, despite the awkward closeness. Jett couldn't help but notice how much warmer he felt now, due to the closeness of the other in this confined space. Paris had such thick fur! Jett quickly began to warm up. He chuckled softly when the other asked if he had some hidden rations on him. The tall warrior shook his head in response. “No, I'm afraid not…though I wish I do.” Reminded of food, his empty stomach gave a low and primitive growl.
“Pity,” Paris said easily, smiling slightly. He had already guessed as much, but he had figured it was always worth the ask, “Perhaps after this I’ll smarten up some and start leaving little stores of rations around these caves. Though knowing my luck, they’d be eaten by some enterprising snot,” he grumbled half-heartedly, chuckling.
Silence washed over the pair for a moment, comfortable despite the somewhat ungainly situation. The sound of the howling wind outside was ever-present, a low whine deadened only by Paris’s bulk, though he couldn’t help the twitch of his half-eaten ear every now and again as it responded to the changing tone of the weather. Hearing an uptick in the wind’s howl and the almost fleeting bite of cold against his outward-facing back, he clucked his tongue disparagingly and shook his head. “Ice bear weather, if ever I saw it,” he said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Nothing good ever comes with the cold.”
”Probably not a bad idea.” Jett mused when the other stag considered leaving some of his rations around the caves. He snorted with humor then. “Yeah, I'm sure that the pests would cause a problem.” He almost made a comment about squirrels and foxes, but then stopped himself. Were there even any squirrels and foxes in the mountains? “What kind of little varmints run around up here?” He questioned, hoping he wouldn't sound too stupid for asking.
Jett was growing increasingly sleepy at this point. Paris’s bulky frame was blocking out pretty much all of the wind. Jett didn't think he'd ever felt so warm and cozy in his life. The stag’s blue eyes became half-lidded with relaxation. The only thing that could make this better was something to fill the empty void of his stomach, but he still couldn't complain. When Paris stated that it was ice bear weather he pinned his ears against his skull. “I've only encountered one once and it wasn't a pleasant experience, obviously.” He grumbled. “Hopefully the wind is concealing our scents… If one finds us here there's no way we could get out… We’d be trapped.”
Paris blew out a breath as the pale stag asked after the fauna of the area, his gaze drifting up towards the close rock ceiling as he thought it over. “Oh, the usual delights. Ticks in the summer. Bugs. Rats. Ground squirrels. Hares. Carrion birds. Birds of prey. Wolves. The odd cougar, if you’re unlucky. Ice bears if you’re unluckier,” he added, with a wry grin. Paris flicked his eyes to look over to see if his companion shared his somewhat dark humour and was both amused and somewhat charmed to see the lighter stag clearly struggling to stay awake. It wasn’t often that anyone really let their guard down enough to sleep near him – what with his ugly face and grim luck – but it seemed the drowsy warmth mixed with the tempered sounds of the storm were working their magic on the soldier.
The large black stag fell silent at the sight, turning his face away to look quietly at the wall, not wanting to interrupt Jett’s descent into slumber when he so clearly needed it, but it seemed the mention of ice bears had roused him once again. Paris stared with wide eyes at Jett’s shadowed form, his single good ear pricking with interest. “Truly, you? That’s remarkable. A lack of encounters with ice bears is perhaps the one area in which my luck has held up,” he said dryly, his sad little stub of a tail twitching subconsciously. As Jett went on to mention their trapped situation and their uncomfortably helpless situation should they be caught off guard, Paris grimaced and stretched his magic out once again, reinforcing the web of magic he had already laid around their makeshift shelter. It didn’t hurt to be careful, after all.
The mention of ticks made Jett’s pink skin crawl. “Bleck. Ticks. I'm not stranger to those… Luckily I have no problem seeing them though. Perks of being pale, I suppose.” The pale stag sounded slightly amused. “Birds of prey… I am mostly unfamiliar with them as well. Well, the big ones that can actually pose a threat at least. Ravens can try to gouge out your eyes but that's about it.” He chuckled softly. “Cougars.. come across them before a few times.” Paris seemed very surprised that he'd ever encountered an ice bear before. “Yeah… It seems that they don't descend from the mountains too often.”
The pale stag lifted his head briefly to peer over Paris. He didn't appreciate the icy blast that it received and quickly ducked back behind the muscular wall of black fur that was Paris. “Wolves have been my biggest problem. Cheeky bastards don't know… when to… quit.” his voice became lower, words beginning to slur as sleep once again attempted to wrap him in a vice-like grip. He hadn't realized how exhausting the trek into the mountains had truly been.
The dark stag let out a low, agreeing hum as Jett spoke, his dark eye watching his pale companion as the other drifted off into sleep.
Letting out a soft sigh, Paris smiled slightly before turning his face towards the biting winds outside once again, silently guarding the slumber of his unexpected cave-mate.
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Comments: 22
This is lovely! I hope these two have more opportunities to spend time together, they seem like they'd be great friends!
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Thank you! I really hope so too!
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Eeee, thank you so much luvie! <333
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This RP was so much fun!! I can't wait for the next 
Thank you so much for this art also! It's absolutely gorgeous and I love the falling snow <3 Such a cozy feeling! Poor Jett looks so sleepy too LOL
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Sounds good! Paris is actually sneaking into Glenmore in Autumn, so maybe the run-in can happen before he goes, giving him a bit of a warning?
And eeeeeee, glad you like it! <333 I was really happy with how this came out ;u; I'm going to give Paris's standing (with us dA players, not BW xD) a bit of a hit so it's nice to have had the chance to get him some love beforehand
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Ooooohhhh I'm curious to see what's gonna happen >u> gotta love a good villain. That sounds great to me! Or they could meet in Glenmore LOL "omg fancy seeing you here!" XD
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Yesss, I'm hoping the story arc will go well! And I'm so torn with Paris, because it's like he has these two halves xD; In Blackwood and around friends he's really easy-going and friendly and cuddlebear. But then when his obsessive tendencies slip in with pretty little Glenmorians, he does a complete creepy 180 >>;;;;;
And LMAO I did think of that! I don't think it'd go down too well tho, since Paris really isn't supposed to be wandering about xD
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Mwahahaha, I remember seeing that story with Elodi xD can't wait to see what you're up to!
Aaahhhh yeah true, Jett would have to report him and fuss at him xD we can just have them meet in the mountains again!
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Mountain meeting sounds good! Maybe when you get the chance just create a starter and fling it my way? <3
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Works for me
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I'm fine with reusing the old doc <3
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Derp I accidentally removed the old xD I'll make a new! What's your email?
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Thank you so much!! <333
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You make the nciest things u7u <33
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