Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: somethingwithinreason on 08-09-2014, 19:33:03</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>somethingwithinreason</strong> on <strong>08-09-2014, 19:33:03</strong>
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				<div align="center"><strong>Dear Reader,<br><br>This is a story revived and adapted from an application prompt - this first post shall include the previous messages as well as visuals references for the main characters. The renewed story will begin on the second post.</strong></div><br><em>Previously Stated:</em><br><br><strong>Lock:</strong><br>There was a nasty shortage of rabbits. This would not have been too big a problem for the people of Westnorton were the rabbits not all the property of Sir Henery Sackbutt who was the most greedy, grasping and bad tempered Lord of the Manor in living memory. Stealing His Lordship's property was a hanging offence and it was lucky that there was no proof against any of the townspeople but, nonetheless, they were all sick of the accusing finger being pointed in their direction.<br><br>Even Bogdown, the arthritic, old burglar who ran gangs of thieving street urchins in the city of Eastnorton several miles away was weary, not only of being blamed for the great bunny vanishing act but also because there was extra security around the Lord's warren so he was miffed that he hadn't had any rabbits to sell on the black market for weeks. He was, therefore, putting feelers out for information and was sitting in the The Fletcher's Head Tavern buying Your Character a third jar of the strongest cider which had green grassy and ferny particles floating in it.<br><strong><br>SomethingWithinReason:</strong><br>Serlene had never gained an appreciation for the taste of rabbit. Not in stews, not in pies, not jerkied or fried; regardless of the presentation, the creature always came across as gamey and unappetizing. But with a dwindling amount of animals in the surrounding woods and an outrageous tax on (legally) imported meats, rabbits were one of few resilient creatures still present in the area- so the tracker couldn't begrudge anyone who yearned for that stringy flesh.<br><br>The scarcity of the furry little nuisances was proving to be a slow building travesty, especially with the winter season rapidly approaching. As the temperature dropped, so did the Lord of the Manor's sanity it seemed. With each passing day, more and more people were accused of pilfering rabbits or conspiring to do so. Every tracker and trapper had been brought in for interrogation at least once, or in Serlene's case twice as she was less than cooperative during the first visit. But with no bunny blood on their hands, they were released under close scrutiny - their shops and homes ransacked and upturned.&nbsp; Many had left for the city, others had simply vanished..but Serlene had stayed behind. She wasn't entirely sure why, either.<br><br>"If I had any, you know I'd be good for 'em Bog, but I've got nothing," She sighed, clasping a gloved hand around the jar of cloudy cider, brushing a few strands of her unkempt curls from her face. "And I'm not about to risk my neck tracking closer to the Manor than I already have. They've singed me twice already" Her gloved hand flickered, the leather stretching over long fingers, and in doing so rose enough over her palm that the ridges of blistered burns could be seen, " Third time I think he'll just cut it off and use it to pick his teeth," She smirked irritably, leaning back against the wall before taking a long swig of cider. "Pompous arse..."<br><strong><br>Lock:</strong><br>The six foot street entertainer and painter sat an appropriate distance two tables away from Artie Bogdown and Serlene and sipped the least intoxicating liquid the tavern passed across the counter. Whilst his outward appearance was that of a human it was simply a convenient façade for a dragon who could alter his shape from creature to human male at will and he didn't normally drink since shape-shifting, flying, painting art or juggling didn't mix with the mind-fuddling effects of alcohol. There had been very rare occasions that late night revellers staggering home caught a brief glimpse of his winged form in silhouette against the moon but the tales were dismissed as alcohol induced delusions. He wondered if Serlene knew his secret, but if she had even a suspicion she kept it to herself and he didn't dare to reveal what he was in case it drove her away. The dark auburn unruly wavy hair fell into his face as Lochinvar shoved up the sleeve of his white linen shirt away from the puddle of spilled beer on the table and kept his his ears tuned to listening to Serlene and Bogdown. If anyone could get information from Bogdown it would be Serlene.<br><br>Artie Bogdown shifted from side to side feeling uncomfortable on the hard seat and considered the tracker's words and the blistered hand under the glove. She knew nothing he decided. “Errrrgh.” He cleared his throat noisily. “Could be there really is a dragon.” He suggested and hauling his distorted frame up drained his beer off. “I 'as the little perishers to feed.” It served as explanation for leaving and why he was keen that the situation didn't get worse. If there was a shortage of rich pockets to be picked he and his urchins were sunk. “M'am.” The old criminal shuffled off and rolled out onto the street.<br><br>Lochinvar chided himself as he flinched as Bogdown mentioned the word 'dragon' and stared at the tankard in front of him as he waited for the man to leave. Watching out of the window he saw Bogdown weave down the street then took his jar to the table to speak to Serlene. He sat alongside her and looked despondently down into his lap with slightly glazed blue-green eyes. “It's not him and his little crew, back to square one.” He spoke in a quiet baritone. Worse than square one if there was no work for Serlene she had no reason to stick around. His head came up as he decided what to do. “I'll have to sneak about closer to the Warrens. We need evidence, catch them in the act. Have you eaten yet?”<br>~~~~~~~~
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				Title: <strong>Re: Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>somethingwithinreason</strong> on <strong>09-09-2014, 18:50:51</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div style="text-align: left;">(http://www.smart.co.uk/dreams/grimmax1.jpg)</div></div>Bogdown wasn’t the first to crawl up from society’s underbelly to inquire her knowledge of the rabbit shortage, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. That she was a chosen source for information in this regard wasn’t entirely too surprising. Serlene was one of the few trackers in the area – but that didn’t make the sudden clawing at her privacy any less aggravating. <br><br>Until somewhat recently, she had led a primarily reclusive life in a modest shack on the outskirts of town. She kept to the woods, and allowed a seldom few into her home on friendly terms. Local gossip blamed her poor manners and social skills on her profession, while others attributed her bitterness to a broken heart.&nbsp; Yet despite her prickly demeanor, she was a lifeline to the town’s inhabitants. Her visits were restricted to the tavern or market – where her goods were snatched up desperately. With the cleanest kills out of any of her competitors and hides and furs renowned to last numerous winters, buyers were more than willing to risk icy stares and non-negotiable prices to invest in her wares. <br><br>But the markets were little more than graveyards now – and even Serlene had little to offer from her stock. People were desperate for answers – and since only accusations were being thrown around, any definitive reasoning behind the dire situation- no matter how ridiculous -was clung too for the sake of having something to fill the strains in their bellies.<br><br>They were even blaming dragons now…<br><br>Whoever, or whatever, was to blame for this…it wasn’t from the underclass. Criminals and outcasts weren’t willing to backstab the unfortunates – and if they were for whatever reason, they weren’t so eager for the noose as to do something so nefarious.<br><br>The tracker’s dark eyes kept on the old man as he staggered out the door, followed by small shadowy silhouettes emerging from the alleys, their steps swift despite their hunger.&nbsp; Her eyes didn’t move from the window, even as Lochinvar sat beside her, until the man was gone from sight. She then glanced over towards her towering companion, who despite being so statuesque stared at his lap like a mournful child. Her thick lips twitched in a slight frown at the sight…it bothered her more than she cared to admit to see him so sullen.<br><br>When he looked at her, she reached up and touched a few of those unruly curls away from his face before taking up her jar once again to finish off the cloudy substance. Her brows narrowed slightly, peering into the bottom of the jar at the collection of grass blades and twigs collecting in the residue. They needed a better plan – but without knowing what to look for it was like trying to trap smoke with ropes.<br><br>“I haven’t,” She said in regards to his question, “But let’s not sup here…My standards are dwindling, but I’d rather not eat from a bowl that a rat’s just bathed in,” A small smirk curled slightly on her face. Taking up her bag and bow from the table top, she adjusted her belongings onto her back, casting another glance in the Lochinvar’s direction. “We’ll have something at home…”<br><br>And with luck, one of the traps she’d set that morning might have caught something worth while.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dale</strong> on <strong>11-09-2014, 14:20:40</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/e1/Benedict_C.jpg)</div><br><br>A very, very long time ago, in human time, when there was space for every kind of creature whether magical or not, Lochinvar's kind had been regarded as reserved, but not unkindly. Rather like an eccentric uncle who would magically turn up quite unexpectedly if the family needed some help. Loch's kind of dragons kept themselves to themselves but could be persuaded to protect a new village from predators, robbers and raiders in exchange for taking what they needed. But, in time, people organised themselves with monarchs and governors to parlay with other monarchs and governors to broker trading and peace deals. And to pay for the whole burdensome system they eventually invented taxation. When one land waged war on another, a costly and often lengthy affair, the rich and powerful felt the pinch, and the less just and noble of those squeezed the ordinary people like small, oval, yellow imported fruit until their pips squeaked. Dragons, water spirits, unicorns, deities and the fairies were mythical objects in paintings, at least to humans. It irked him that people only remembered dragons as greedy, lazy and exceedingly unpleasant parasites.<br><br>The very much alive dragon felt Serlene's fingers pushing the hair from his face as he came out of his thoughts about living up to his ancestral heritage as a guardian and turned to more practical matters such as eating and repaying her with dinner for interviewing Bogdown. If he had to tell the truth he also wanted to linger in her company. <br><br>“We'll have something at home...” She said. Both of them, not herself alone. Yes, he had heard correctly. It was an invitation to dine with Serlene. Time spent with her whether food was involved or not was something that Loch was not going to pass up. He smiled back at her and jumped up, the wooden chair legs scraping noisily on the grey flagstone floor and picked up his bag from the floor. <br><br>He rented a tiny hovel in the woods, one of the old charcoal maker's shelters, but barely used it as more than a second home for when he wanted to stay closer to town. He kept his own home concealed and rendered inaccessible by magic. To outside eyes it appeared to be an inaccessible and uninteresting ruin on a hill in a little frequented rocky swathe of countryside several miles from town. It had to be like a fortress since in its cellars was the gold which was the means of sending out a signal to a female of his kind. The larger the gold content of the hoard the further the signal radiated out in all directions advertising the presence of a male of his kind. He had given up hope of attracting a mate about a century ago. <br><br>The food situation could only get worse for the impoverished, even the scrawny mottled brown and white tavern cat looked disgruntled. It cast Lochinvar a baleful look as he passed the table it was curled upon. Lochinvar suspected that the cat could tell he wasn't a regular human, although since it always appeared to be frowning with disapproval at everything it was rather difficult to tell with the creature.<br><br>Loch smiled as latched onto something she had said about a bowl in which a rat had bathed. “Ah, yes, that pale, grey, greasy liquid. Windy said it was Bean Soup. Or it had been soup, I'm not sure which.” Loch quipped, feeling more cheerful at the prospect of more time with Serlene. He had gone up in the world for her to invite him to her home and found his heart wrapping itself around his tonsils for a moment as he shouldered his bag and followed her outside.<br><br>“Cheeky!” Wendy Gale, the matronly and middle-age widowed tavern keeper known as 'Windy' called to the backs of her customers and locked up behind them with a smile. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>somethingwithinreason</strong> on <strong>12-09-2014, 21:38:06</strong>
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				A small smile flickered on her lips as she watched Loch ready himself enthusiastically out of the corner of her eye. She enjoyed his company, more so than any other despite having known him for such a small amount of time, and often she chided herself for not being able to properly relay such regards in a conventional way.&nbsp; Such things did not come easily to the solitary tracker, and she hoped that the thorns of her peculiarities would not drive him from her side.&nbsp; <br><br>The invitation to dine with her or even visit at her home was one seldom offered, even to the tall artist she would not be pressed to call friend. Most were allowed near, but never inside. Even when there on business, for those seldom seekers who came directly to the source rather than maneuver through the market crowds, they were made to wait inside of the horseshoe shape that composed her home and workspace. <br><br>Her caution was not one driven necessarily out of distrust; she was not opposed to visitors, but slight bafflement as to why anyone would want to visit at all. Taverns and creeks were places for social gathering, not the out of the way, cramped living space of a tracker who kept her work stored in a shed that nearly matched the size of her home, attached to the side of said dwelling. <br><br>The walls of that simple shack rendered as a guarded fortress in her mind – and the thought alone of allowing the gates to be drawn up to permit someone inside made her teeth ache- yet to Loch, she felt no hesitancy. Something within him negated the cynicism that so often clouded her heart.&nbsp; <br><br>Making sure her quiver was in place and her belongings properly adjusted, Serlene produced a few coins from her pocket and tucked them underneath one of the empty jars on the table. Their drinks had been paid for already, but in these times even the smallest tips could be the difference between one going to bed hungry or not. Widow Windy deserved a full belly regardless of her relationship with the local rats in her kitchen –who were tolerated either out of stress, or perhaps encouraged to fatten themselves up on whatever they could in order to make up for the lack of rabbit meat on the menu.<br><br>Her lips drew in at Loch’s quip about the soup, and she muffled a laugh against her sleeve as Windy locked the door behind them. A few patrons that had been muscled out earlier were passed out sleeping on the curb - but Serlene stepped over them idly, as if they were snoring rocks and nothing more. The evening air was brisk, threatening rain later in the night, but she breathed in, happy to be rid of the stuffy air of the tavern.<br><br>They would not be able to talk of their plans until they reached Serlene’s home – too many people were desperate for the coin being offered even for eavesdropping.&nbsp; Her thick leather boots scraped along the cobblestone as she moved to round the tavern, choosing to follow the river rather than the worn paths from town. <br><br>“Have you finished your painting?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder towards Loch – caught for a moment by the way the waxing moon seemed to gleam in his already strangely beautiful eyes.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dale</strong> on <strong>13-09-2014, 03:40:36</strong>
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				Loch dipped his head hiding his little smile because Serlene was amused by his soup joke and stepped over and around the prone bodies that were testimony to Widow Windy's brewing skills. He felt every moment of Serlene's attention like it was a special treat reserved for him. As far as he knew it wasn't wholly in his imagination either. <br><br>Windy had initially not wanted to charge Loch for taking a message from prospective clients for paintings at the bar for him but he countered that her help was essential to earn his living and therefore it was only fair if he she made him feel better by paying for the service and letting him make up for being her worst customer and a bad advertisement for her brews. He therefore avoided inevitably ending up unconscious on the kerb on the days it poured with rain and never felt guilty about taking up a seat near the fire. He wondered if the cat disapproved of him not being a matching book end.<br><br>The invigorating fresh air, an element he was supremely at peace in, or more likely, Serlene's attention made him shiver up his spine up to his hair roots. He smiled, adjusted his rectangular leather bag on his shoulder and shortened his stride to match hers. “The painting for Mr Lambard? It's going very well, to say he wasn't struck on the idea of waiting or the extra cost.” Loch smiled Serlene's way. “That's the trouble with using oil based paint, it takes longer to dry between layers, but, you know, that's the price of getting a jewel like depth and quality of colour. They stay bright too..” He wished that he could confess his secret but now that he'd been invited for dinner he could show her something about his kind rather than tell. “Some of the cost is in the ingredients and how long it takes to make the pigment.” His clients, who had their trade secrets, never asked where the ingredients came from but they were always won over by the idea that some of his pigments were trade secrets. <br><br>Loch smelled rain in the air and realised he was babbling on like an idiot. “Enough about me. Have you enough dry wood in your stores, I can split a few logs for you, make myself useful?” He offered. It was insufficient to have a hoard of treasure, any old sort of dragon could accumulate that, parents passed it down to the next generation, proving yourself a good mate was essential, and Serlene was worthy of the same effort. Besides he just enjoyed trying to get her to smile and he wanted to make her life pleasanter because she was...Serlene. She enjoyed being outside under the moonlight and sunlight as much as he did, he thought, they had an affinity there. Yes, he had thought quite a lot about her. They were walking down the river path and he could hear the water quietly swushing. It reminded him of being bathed in the freshwater lake at home when he was nothing but a dull brown little thing without any of his adult colouring.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>somethingwithinreason</strong> on <strong>16-09-2014, 18:58:34</strong>
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				The arts were lost on Serlene. This was not to say that she held no appreciation for them, on the contrary, there was a part of her that envied that glittering world – for it was indeed a separate world, one of silks, fineries and sweet scents of pressed flowers and perfumes; a realm of beauty so vastly different than the grime and muck covered reality she knew. <br><br>She had visited the small art gallery several summers ago in the more aristocratic section of the main city. For hours she had wandered around the halls, ignoring the scoffs and upturned noses of the patrons as her boots left hints of dirt on the marble floor (she had wiped them off prior to entering, but years of caked on earth couldn’t be so easily removed) She had scrutinized every painting and sculpture that had been imported for some sort of dedication, and found herself increasingly frustrated that she did not feel the swell of connection that other onlookers seemed to feel. Of course she wasn’t about to burst into tears like several women, weeping openly in front of a portrait of an overturned vase of magnolias – yet still, despite her yearning, no visceral reaction seemed to stir at all. Everything displayed was beautiful and intricately crafted, but still she felt nothing. She had gauged the contemplative stares of people around her, listened in on their conversations regarding pigments and lighting…and found herself irritably lost. Was she not privileged enough to experience such beauty?<br><br>&nbsp;Perhaps she lacked the proper eyes for art – even as she stared at a landscape of a forest scene that stretched the length of a wall, which should have resonated at least a sense a familiarity within her, only bitterness roused her heart.&nbsp; She knew no forest like this – where the trees were all thick and flushed with foliage, cradling tiny birds whose wings and nests were warmed by gentle sunbeams.&nbsp; It was a farce, and as she left the gallery she resolved that this world of art was only present to mock her. <br><br>In spite of this, Serlene had found herself still immensely curious of Loch’s work. When he had presented himself as an artist, had had been cautious, but as time passed she found herself questioning him often. When he spoke of any factor of his trade, she listened more intently than usual – fixed on each term and phrase, as if they were clues. Perhaps it was through his alluring eyes that she would be able to connect to that other world.<br><br>At the mention of splitting logs, the tracker smiled behind the veil of her curls, pondering the image in her head. “I’ve enough to last through the season...though I might take you up on that before winter,” She said, pausing at a section of the river where several flat rocks formed a make shift path. She turned, stepping with a fluid effortlessness across the river before pausing on the furthest. Drawing her lips in again for a moment, she looked back towards Loch and exhaled a light breath she had been holding in.<br><br>“Will you show me it when it’s finished? …The painting, I mean.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dale</strong> on <strong>16-09-2014, 23:39:25</strong>
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				Loch appreciated that Serlene asked about his work. The details of pigments didn't mean much unless you knew about the ingredients like friends and did the collecting and the grinding which gave a rest from thinking about..issues. She was kind. And without pretentious affect like Lombard who had been a right royal pain in the behind.<br><br><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/69/RobinHoodPrince_Aysgarth.jpg)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">They meandered companionably down to the river which was running clear, the colours of the trees muted by night, lit only by the gleam of the moon. The forest had quietened to the dull and dark green blacks of conifers and smoked moss and ghost greys of the deciduous woodland, a bright but becoming cloudy sky sapped the energy of the colour, accentuated the dark grey water-smoothed limestone that formed a natural bridge over the white frothing water. She had a log store already stacked she said. She seemed like she was fond of her independence, or perhaps didn't lay much store in offers of help actually being forthcoming when the accounting came, but the faintly discernible smile and the assurance that she would call upon him to take an axe to the heavier logs was enough for Loch to think that she wasn't just politely declining his offer. </div><br>Serlene crossed the stone with a fleetness and surefooted quiet strides. Loch smiled and bent for a moment to scoop up water to sip. Then he looked across the stretch to the tracker who asked about seeing Lambard's painting. He stood shaking the moisture from his hands and chuckled out loud. “Mr Lambard, the banker. Loads-a-Money-But-A-Right-Dick.”<br><br>“I'll show you one of my own. If that's alright with you? Mr Lambard's is just the bread and butter sort. It's a here is me, fine Mr Lambard, with all my glad rags and my devoted friend and lively dog, the lord of all I survey, my big house in the background with my big flagpole.” He skipped lightly across the naturally formed stepping stones to catch up with Serlene. One of his secrets was surely safe with her so he continued. “The usual tripe for show. They want to look grand, and he will.” Loch's smile creased around his eyes. “I'll make him look very fine indeed. But...I will do as I always do, paint him as he really is. With his flagpole in his hand.” Loch grinned. “You know what they say, every picture tells a story. Haha maybe I'll show you that one as well for fun.”<br><br>A dim idea came to him as he glanced back at the bridge. “Has there been a shortage of fish? You know the waters.”<br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>somethingwithinreason</strong> on <strong>22-09-2014, 18:26:37</strong>
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				For a moment she balanced between the soft earth of the riverbank and the smooth surface of the rock, observing Loch as he bent to refresh himself from the crisp running water. Pivoting slightly on the ball of her right foot, she moved onto the damp grass – her boots slicking into the muck beneath her feet, though she did not quite dip into the water. She crouched, causing her quiver and bag to clatter slightly from the sudden movement. Albeit her eyes were no longer upon him, she still listened closely. <br><br>Lips pulled taught at his mocking of Lambard – who was indeed as he said, a right dick – but as he continued, she openly laughed, and quickly brought a hand to cover her mouth in a rare gesture of self-consciousness. Even when he spoke to jest, his tone was gentle. A smile remained as she moved her hand away, reaching back into her bag to remove a torn piece of burlap, which she promptly laid across her knees. <br><br>“I’d like that,” She responded softly as his footsteps moved across the rocky path, feeling a shiver of warmth pass through herself - the invitation to view his art the same as her offer for him to dine with her on a scale of intimacy. Though as that warmth passed, she felt her heart wrench once again in uncertainty. When his footsteps paused, she cast her gaze briefly upward to make sure he was close enough that her words need not be repeated - for in truth she was not sure if she could repeat them now, finding now the admission of her eagerness almost shameful. That present smile flickered now that their proximity was close once again, fading back to the natural resting curve of her lips, though a content glimmer still remained alight in those dark eyes.<br><br>Tilting her head back down towards what had caught her attention before, Serlene shifted in place, reaching down to sink her hands into a patch of glistening moss that had spread onto the last rock in the path.&nbsp; Using only her fingers to extract a modest portion, she set the clump of stems and silt over the burlap, quickly moving to tie up the ends of the fabric to keep the contents from seeping out – well, more so than what had already dripped across her thigh. Flicking her fingers carefully to rid them of any dirt and water, Serlene tucked the little sack into one of the pouches on her belt.&nbsp; <br>She stood, glancing out towards the water – her brows narrowing in regards to his question about the fish.<br><br>“No…not a shortage, but they have spread out. There are pockets of the river where they are abundant and others where they are absent entirely...” As she spoke, she pressed the knuckle of one finger against her lips, looking up once more towards the taller man, “Do you think there’s a connection to the rabbits?” <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dale</strong> on <strong>01-10-2014, 19:03:07</strong>
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				He had wondered if Serlene might not be too bothered about seeing his artwork but he glowed a little with happiness when she agreed that she'd like to see something of his own. He sensed that she was warm to him yet holding back as she gave him a small smile then her countenance returned to the one he was most familiar with. It would look like fantasy with strange, brightly coloured birds or a herd of unicorns splashing in a river. Fortune favoured a brave heart so the saying went but how to tell her that he was not of her kind was still something he grappled with but found no answers.<br><br>Loch watched as Serlene gathered a patch of water silvered moss that spilled onto the rock and gathered it onto a rough sacking, folded it into cloth bag and tucked it away in her belt pocket.<br>Serlene gazed thoughtfully across the river before answering his question about the supply of fish. He had expected some kind of shortage. “Aha.” He considered her information. “That is useful to know. They've moved. They've abandoned stretches of the river in favour of other places. Fish school in numbers for safety. To escape from a predator. The rabbits have vanished from the Warrens. It's too big a coincidence for both to adopt unusual behaviour.”<br><br>There wasn't an option now but to tell Serlene what he thought and it would mean telling her something about himself.. “Yes, if I'm right there is a connection.”&nbsp; Loch still hesitated, his lips flattened in a thin line. “It'll sound ridiculous. But it's the truth. You know how they say we live on an island and this is the only land there is? Well, that's not true. There is another land.”
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				Title: <strong>Re: Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>somethingwithinreason</strong> on <strong>01-11-2014, 05:04:20</strong>
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				As his lips pulled in that thin line, she pressed her teeth against the finger pressed to her own lips – watching the way his smooth complexion flattened, as if concerned and withheld. Restraint; it was an expression she was very familiar with – though not in the conventional sense of withholding from another drink or something so plain …but rather a restriction of the self; biting back the fizz of intimacy that incites eagerly on the tip of the tongue. <br><br>Despite having practically bitten off her own tongue over the years by such experience with concealment, Serlene felt a strange twist in her heart – an ache that did not found on agitation. What wasn’t he saying?<br><br>What he did say however, caused her dark brows to arch, her eyes flicking over him near warily before a wry smile crossed her face – not to mock her companion of course, but it was a common disbelief that the inhabitants of the land shared. <br><br>“You mean the one all the drunken sailors speak of when they come ashore?” She mused, shifting in her stance to cross her arms over her chest, keeping her eyes fixed towards Loch. “What does a lost land have to do with vanishing fish and rabbits? Unless they’ve all sprouted wings and made their way across the sea without us knowing”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Hare-y Circumstances (Lock x Reason)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dale</strong> on <strong>02-11-2014, 14:33:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				They had such short and fraught lives, these humans. Loch wished that Serlene would laugh more often. She was courageous in spirit, but he wished that she had something to cause her mirth and also that he could be the cause of her merriment.<br><br>Serlene perused him, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes pinning him down, as if she could see into his now troubled soul. He was risking driving a wedge between them and he knew that it was the very last thing that he wanted to do but he had obligations to a suffering populace. Loch wished it was otherwise. He could not change what he was and it had caught up with him now.&nbsp; He was encouraged that she did not belittle him or disparage his words. It meant that she had an open mind, and she would need to have to believe him now. “That very same land spoken of in the port taverns of sailors.”<br><br>“Is not lost.” He crossed to a flat topped rock and sat down under the twinkling stars, hunched over, his hands nervously clasped together upon his lap, his long legs dangling.&nbsp; It was difficult to continue but he had chosen to confide in her and was firm in his decision to do so. Even so, he paused to choose his words with care. “It is hidden. It's hidden to protect the peoples and creatures who live there from outside interference. There are humans, dwarves and elves. Unicorns and shape-shifting dragons who can appear in human or dragon form. And there are other less sentient creatures. Some are completely harmless, some are ill suited to being at large outside their own land.”<br><br>Lochinvar took in a breath and then looked up with a furrowed brow at Serlene. “I think one of those creatures landed here to give birth and the offspring is responsible for the present trouble. While it lives there will always be disaster for the town, even if it leaves, they return every year to where they were born, to give birth and mate.”
			</dd>
		</dl>
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