Stars and Satellites [Solstice]

[»Rie]

Talking Drum

Young Dog, Old soul

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In looking back...

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Beyond the insistent burn of city lights the sky positively bloomed. It went from a black mass speckled with pinpoint white dots into a breath-taking canvas: Spilling across it in great arcing contours shades of dark navy, black, purple, and a few shallow highlights of baby blue provide a back drop to thousands upon thousands of celestial bodies. The moon is cradled in the top of the sky, not quite full with only a silver of one side missing and a pearl colored halo around it. Not a cloud in the sky, or the haze of smog obscures the glorious view of the sky: The stories of the heaven's are on perfect display in the form of constellations marching across the curve of the world. It is so very dark, yet not: A world embraced in the puerile silver glow of the moons lonely weeping light. The world was settled into the calm serenity of the early hours of day, a time before false dawn lightened the eastern horizon, and the moon was just beginning to slip toward the western. Somewhere, a nightingale rose fluting its sweet melody into the night.

There beyond the steel towers, and concrete boardwalks of Harlow the land became both wild, and tame in turns. The farmlands smelled of sweet wild grass, and pungent grains; the earthy scents of well kept herd beast's hung on the air, fresh and stale by turns. The land swept in rolling hills, flattened into miniature plains, and was cut into patterns by fencing: On one such hill a massive lonely hundred year oak stood like a sentinel against ill will. It's branches sported rustling leaves that whispered as the grass scented breeze curled through it's crown; the trunk was battle scarred, the story of a lightning strike that the tree had survived. Gnarled roots broke the ground around it up into a soft powdery soil that was scattered with tiny curls of infant grass. There he sat; his back to the massive trunk and his head angled slightly upward as he took in the panorama. The shade of the tree turned his autumnal patches brown, while the leaking moonlight burnished his white fur to spun silver spider thread.

The oak perched upon a hill, a hill covered over in thick green grass that smelled of sweetness, wildness, and untamed regions: Like a storm in spring. Dew beaded on the stems as they drifted back and forth in tandem; turning dark emerald and silver-green by turns. Far below the dark jagged straightness of a man-made divider interrupted the swath: A rugged wooden fence dividing the land as the thick lush grass terminated in a cow pasture. The large grazing beasts stood in groups, the low crunching of their ever working jaws a distant background hum. Cricket song filled in air in a distinct harmony, and the chk-chk-chrrrr of a cicada came from somewhere in the oak boughs above causing one of Drum's alert ears to twitch faintly.

Starlight caught in the solemn russet-turned-dark depths of Drum's eyes as he stared out onto the world from his little patch of paradise. Yes, he thought as the sweet smelling breeze ruffled his long fur. I much prefer this to the city. A white line flashed across the sky, mirrored in his reflective eyes and he wondered if it was a real star, or a man-made one.

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... we see the future.

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[solisticeofwinter]

The Drifter...

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The sky was a blazing with scarlets and indigos mingling, night giving wat to dawn as the moon bid farewell as the sun rose just a hair above the horizon. Cold stars were flickering dimly as the retired, clouds beginning to float around the canvas sky. Colors swirled, reds like blood, pinks like pigskin, and blues like oceans. The darkness of night was begining to falter. The city streets were coming to life as the hustle and bustle of humans set in, car horns blaring as car brakes slammed in the morning rush hour. People crossed the walks and were traveling on the sidewalks, gripping coffee mugs and steaming hot breakfast in their fists. Men with briefcases and dressed in sharp suits chattered on cell phones, and women in delicate blouses and sturdy pencil skirts leafed through papers in their handbags.

The casual people started their morning, ignoring the concrete walks. The concrete walks seemed normal and plain, the same old stretch of gray walk stretched for miles before the breaks came when the street divided to highway road. The people nor dogs would have known a small collie dog had ran through the streets blood drizzling down the side of her face. The sidewalk told the dark story as the aussie ran from an old alleyway, after a brutal blood bath, and ran for her life. The roads and grasses told the story.

The small dog had ran from far, she left the city and traveled out to the nearby farms. She wanted to be safe and away from the darkness that the city dogs brought her. They had tried to kill her, and they probably killed the seal brute. Sol had mourned this as she fled, leaving a trail of scarlet blood to dry to a crisp brown as it cogaulated in the air. The dogs of the city probably could pick up the faint scents of the blood, but nothing more. The morning dew had settled and the blood stink was faint. And now Solstice lay in a bed of foliage, her ear still oozing. Loss of blood had made her dreary until she fell from her paws in to a collasped sleep. Shock and bloodloss took their toll on her, and now she lay there, and like a drunk recovering from a hangover, trying to drag herself to her paws.



But she was sore and exhausted, and her ear throbbed as infection crept in. Her ear was swollen and still oozing, pus-like discharge crusting around the edges. Blood clotted around the tear, black and dark rum-red scabs oozed as fresh skin tried to grow, but infection hindered it. Sol's muzzle was also scathed and scratched, the bacteria from the salvia of Dahlia had also allowed a mild skin irratant ruin the skin. Her muzzle was raw and red, and her left shoulder hurt from where she had be slammed into concrete.


Her eyes were cold and listless, staring blankly into nothingness. The pain had clouded her mind and she lay there, helpless and fragile. Sol tilted her head and sampled the wind briefly. Her head whipped around as she tasted the familiar scent of an aquaintance. A friend, and a new one at that. She felt the warmth of excitement tingle down her spine. She lifted herself with a huge effort, and positioned herself into a sit.

"Drum?Drum, are you there?" She barked weakly in the wind, the farmlands scents blowing toward the woodland hills.

[»Rie]

Talking Drum

Young Dog, Old soul

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In looking back...

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Drum blinked slowly in surprise as he noted the oncoming of morning: He'd done it again; spent an entire night gazing at the star filled sky. It wasn't really unusual for him, honestly. He spent a lot of time with his head in the clouds and time seemed to pass rather swiftly when one wasn't paying attention. The sky was turning into those fascinating pastel shades, turning the world into a water color painting. The breeze shifted slightly, and instead of the soft smell of dew and wet grass filling his chocolate nose he was graced with the stagnant smell of blood. Drum's brows furrowed slightly, ears tilting as he tested the air again, head bobbing slightly as he lifted his nose higher to catch the direction of the smell: It was somewhat familiar, resonating with his mind that he knew that flavor.

It was then that the sound of a voice split the air, somewhat distant but not so far as to muffle the exact words. His name, called out. The solemn male was startled for a moment: It wasn't something he was expecting to hear, after all he knew very few and had told even less his name. For a moment in which Drum fathomed his heart had stopped beating he almost wondered in there were spirits on this hill that called to him from the ether. His russet colored eyes flickered over the lightening landscape, and that was when he noticed the figure rising up among the thick stalks of grass; a figure he recognized in that vague way. A dog he'd spoken to rather recently. Solstice he recalled, was her name. Standing up he paused to a moment, hesitating in the soft liquid shadows under the lonely oak. Another puff of breeze brought to him the scent of blood and infection, and he was moving.

He picked up his pace from a placid walk into a ground eating lope, as he cleared the shade of his hide away. Pale morning sunlight blazed across his autumn colored patches spinning them into blazing copper, bronze, and gold; The majority of him seemed pallid in comparison to his broken markings; the white dull against the thriving colors. His thick silky fur clung to his skin as it became wet with morning dew, the stalks of grass rustling as he pushed through them to reach the other dogs side. His features retained their solid calmness, and he glanced over her for the injury he had caught wind of. It was mostly her ear it seemed; nothing to life threatening if you discounted infection. He didn't even really think about it, simply moved forward and nudged his head against her shoulder, "Lay down, rest. Tell me your story, my friend." He said gently.

Then he brought his slender muzzle round, sniffing gently at the wounds around her ear, pulling back to sneeze once or twice at the scent of infection setting it: A sickly clinging smell that he disliked greatly. Still... Sighing softly he eased his head forward again, pausing a few inches from the open wound, "I'm going to clean this for you, it'd be best to get the debris out of it." He paused a moment, hesitant; but then leaned forward his tongue flicking out delicately to smooth over the ragged edges: Dirt, tissue, bits of fur all came off from the determined but gentle swipes of his tongue, which caused the lacerations to start sluggishly oozing blood again; chasing out the infection. He'd pause occasionally to scrape his tongue against his teeth; freeing it of detritus before diligently returning to his work: all the while his alert ears were tuned to the Aussie.

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... we see the future.

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[solisticeofwinter]

The Drifter...

Solstice pricked her ears up again, and watched as Drum parted the foliage, and came in. She watched as he came over and spoke softly. Solstice looked at him with graditude brimming in her blue optics, and she left out a sigh of relief. She had came out here to rest, and after that die or live. Now she relized she would probably live. She had laid her head down as Drum grazed his tongue of the gashes on her ears. Blood had caked half the side of her face, but the only wounds had been on the ear and muzzle. The raw flesh was ripped away as Drum massaged, Sol did not complain as the pain dulled her eyes. She looked at him a moment before she spoke, and with a shudder, she began.

"After I had met you and I had left Creekside, I was foraging for some food for the night, the sky was dark, it was about after midnight. I had made my way down to Pheonix Avenue, and I went into the alley. I...I have heard stories about the dogs that dwell, but the scents were stale and told me nothing."Sol paused for a minute, wincing as fresh blood pushed its way out of her wounds and soaked the fur around it. Drum had pulled most of the dead flesh away, and also the bits of hair dying from the exposure and lack of treatment. Sol took a breath and continued on...."Anyways, the smell of food came from there. I knew there was a dumpster, but what I saw drove fear into my heart. There was about 5 or 6 dogs, all ready to kill each other. I never should have interferred, but they had a seal colored Doberman cornered and they were going to kill him. So..I st-stepped in at his side. I was met by a Doberman, with dark black fur and....dead. Dead eyes." She quaked in fear at the memory, a pair of glass-like eyes seeing into the nothingness. She shifter her legs as the pain seered into her skull.

"Anyways, we shared a few cross words. Then his companion, a large wrinkly Shar-Pei attacked me. She was bigger than me, so when she inflicted my wounds, I ran. I never stay and try to fight when I know I cannot win. So I fled into the night. But the two dobermans were locked in a brawl... I th-thin-think he might be dead."

Solstice hung her head slightly, saddness deadening her mood.