Kids Playing Ball. - Printable Version

Beck shared Maisie's woes of too much noise -- shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up -- although his ears were much more prominent. Comedically large triangular satellites constantly swiveling to pinpoint danger, one even baring the mark of a murdered man's blade, cartilage cleanly notched instead of the ragged tear from claws as would be expected. He deserved it. At the wicked voice snarling in his mind and bouncing off the inner walls of his skull, the boy furiously rubbed his face into the sand, trying to force the other voice out.

A familiar chittering snapped him from his groveling trance, strangely welcomed as he twisted his head to the side. Catching the predicted glimpse of Maisie, he sneezed to free the grits of sand stuck to his mutilated muzzle, although the granules lodged between exposed teeth would be a different challenge of its own. Yet his attention was elsewhere; the brightly-colored rubber ball clutched in fossilized talons drew his stare to it as the moon pulled water, and the scrawny ghost scrambled to his feet, kicking sand over the puddle of toxic drool beginning to soak the earth where his chin had been before approaching with a limp and a curious tilt of his head. While he desperately wished he could ask the young velociraptor where she found the ball, perhaps so he could visit the site himself to collect more for a hoarded collection, he refrained, knowing full well of the language barrier. But what else could holding a ball and yelling for attention mean? She wanted to play, right? Sure, why the hell not. He couldn't keep himself from abruptly breaking out in a strangled mimicry of her playful chitters, vocal chords warping to recreate it before he had satisfied the tic and shook out his grimy pelt. Beck dropped into an impish bow akin to a mutt ready to fetch whatever was thrown and even gave his stump of a tail a wag as a signal that he was willing to participate in a frivolous game. "C'mon, thr-row it or somethin'," he rasped, clicking his teeth in impatience.

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[div style="width: 527px; line-height: 1.4; text-align: justify; font-family: constantia; font-size: 11px;"]suvi ó faoláin —
Ball? That was a ball, wasn't it? Where one found a ball, they often found the golden-furred direwolf bounding after. An invietable course of events, given the child's energetic and playful nature. At the sight of Maisie chirping and holding nothing other than a rubber ball. An excited yip escaped the pup quickly and the little canine -- who one day would perhaps not be so little, just like Maisie -- came scrambling over.

A second later, she was mimicking Beck's stance, lowly crouching to the ground, her tail a rapid fan behind her in excitment. About time someone wanted to play ball.
[align=right]— mhaighdean uasal bhàn

"Not a bad idea," Raziel rumbled as he trotted over. The twins had taken over watching his injuried Keona for the time being -- something the direwolf found... Troublesome, since they were far from calm individuals when together lately -- so the direwolf had some time to watch his own child. Said girl had quite a bit of energy though, and Raziel never felt too inclined to interupt her activities. Instead, he smiled warmly at the pup and took a seat beside Feliks.

He used to play these games himself, a long, long time ago. Tracking mud into his childhood home much to his parents' bewilderment. It had taken quite a bit of encouragement to draw the faerie away from his books. Even now that was the case, as a collection of literature grew in his treehouse. Yet Suvi was more than enough encouragement, even if she did not know it. He simply liked keeping an eye on her, especially since they'd been separated for quite a bit of her early childhood -- of course, she still appeared quite young, but such was the case of the fae.