AESIOR OPHELES
✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go
space
As Fraggle applauded him, the tom would find his face warming beneath his fur, embarrassed to be congratulated on a skill he'd developed merely to feed himself. Shaking his head as if to dismiss the praise, he would look at the two kills between them before pausing to consider. Would the others be hungry? No matter - fish could be salted and saved for a later time. Nodding faintly at the boys enthrallment with his presentation, he would flick an ear softly. It had taken him a long time to figure out how to hunt in this manner, yes, but if only because of an injury that he still suffered from years later. His paws had become injured more through his lifetime but the nerves in his paws and wrists would sometimes become strained or even cross over and fine-tune movements where it included intense use of those muscles such as fishing, he had learned to use other items to his aid.
Looking up as Damion joined the small party of two, he dipped his head slightly in greeting, offering him a faint smile as he spoke of the fishing being a thing of luck. To him, hunting and fishing could be done by use of predatorial instincts, though not everyone was skilled to have such an instinct to tell them where creatures of prey might be. Crouching to get settled as the others spoke, he turned his head with a smile towards Vincent as he joined them, tail curling about his paws. His paws were sore from the temperature of the water, though he didn't mind it and this was a bit of an effort to warm them before they could start to ache. He would explain his situation with his paws but such a weakness was a secret he liked to keep, for as kind as the world of predators may seem, not everyone was a kind being within it and he had little desire to be taken after for a physical weakness he could not help anymore than he could help being mute. Strange as it had been to fish with a stick, he'd found he had greater success with spearing them in this manner. That, and the stick worked well for carrying the corpses once he was done.
Twisting his gaze back to the river and his stick, he stood back up and moved to roll it back to his body, most of his weight leaned upon his hind legs. Paws visibly shaking as he moved to pick it up with his paws and bring it to his mouth, pressing his paws back to the ground to try and hide the tremors. How did he explain another unwanted injury? Shaking his head, he stood up to give Vincent an example of how he used the stick - he could use his jaws but in the mud he was sure to end up wearing and eating more mud than catching a fish. It truly was a test of luck, but he tended to be fairly lucky when it came to fishing like this only from years of experience and studying. He was growing tired of the taste of bass but it was the fish he could catch best - he could only dream of eating salmon when their season came to pass through the rivers towards hatching grounds.
Looking up as Damion joined the small party of two, he dipped his head slightly in greeting, offering him a faint smile as he spoke of the fishing being a thing of luck. To him, hunting and fishing could be done by use of predatorial instincts, though not everyone was skilled to have such an instinct to tell them where creatures of prey might be. Crouching to get settled as the others spoke, he turned his head with a smile towards Vincent as he joined them, tail curling about his paws. His paws were sore from the temperature of the water, though he didn't mind it and this was a bit of an effort to warm them before they could start to ache. He would explain his situation with his paws but such a weakness was a secret he liked to keep, for as kind as the world of predators may seem, not everyone was a kind being within it and he had little desire to be taken after for a physical weakness he could not help anymore than he could help being mute. Strange as it had been to fish with a stick, he'd found he had greater success with spearing them in this manner. That, and the stick worked well for carrying the corpses once he was done.
Twisting his gaze back to the river and his stick, he stood back up and moved to roll it back to his body, most of his weight leaned upon his hind legs. Paws visibly shaking as he moved to pick it up with his paws and bring it to his mouth, pressing his paws back to the ground to try and hide the tremors. How did he explain another unwanted injury? Shaking his head, he stood up to give Vincent an example of how he used the stick - he could use his jaws but in the mud he was sure to end up wearing and eating more mud than catching a fish. It truly was a test of luck, but he tended to be fairly lucky when it came to fishing like this only from years of experience and studying. He was growing tired of the taste of bass but it was the fish he could catch best - he could only dream of eating salmon when their season came to pass through the rivers towards hatching grounds.
space
THE FLOWER BURNS