The Turning of the Leaves (Ody; Open)

[Rakko]

**Wait is Redin inside the Abbey walls?**

[Maxodis]

(( Yep. Also only clothed in a ragged pair of pants, since I forgot to specify that too.))

[greek101]

"Naw, don' bee zurry, Keetherz! I'm dun moind 'eelpin ee frond."

Keith smiled a bit. Indeed, it seemed that he had found a new friend...

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As Keith expertly ran his fingers up and down his violin, Brink began to dance. It was slow at first, with only a tapping paw, but soon it seemed as if she could contain it no longer. She began to dance to the lively tune.

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"Burr, aye zuhr! Thar beez a moity gurd ployer!"

Keith's cheeks flushed as he began to carefully take care of his instrument. "Oh, I'm not that good. I still could use some practice..." But of course, that was an understatement. Keith was a magnificent player, but he would never say that.

"So, um..." Keith's kinked tail swished about in the gap between the back and the seat of his chair as he though of something to say. "..have you had breakfast yet?...I haven't..and..well...now that I'm doing better...Maybe you could show me where to find some? I'm not exactly familiar with the lay out of the Abbey yet.." He managed a small grin. He was rather hungry, maybe there would still be some food left for a helpless ferret?

Just as Keith finished talking he heard a voice come from somewhere behind him....

"Wot the..."

Keith tried to see where the voice was coming from, but he couldn't with his chair facing the opposite direction. Grumbling to himself, Keith expertly spun his chair around and slowly began to maneuver through the trees. How he had gotten into the Orchard this fast, he didn't recall. He was rather upset at the time. But now that he wasn't, it was harder going because he would run into roots and small holes and fallen fruit and what not.

Eventually Keith made it around a good number of trees to see the speaker. It was a well built, scarred, crimson furred weasel, who only wore a pair of ragged pants. The rather frightening looking weasel was staring intently at pile of leaves in which a small creature sat.

Unsure whether to speak or not, Keith remained silent, as he observed the weasel. Who was he? He didn't look much like the other Abbey dwellers. Too frightening. And what was he doing outside, this early, without a shirt on?...

[Maxodis]

His eyes were blurry partially from sleep and partially from pain, so the Weasel rubbed them roughly with a heavily calloused paw. Still, his sight wasn't lying to him. He stared at the small weaselbabe, who appeared to be half-eaten by the pile of leaves he sat in. Uncertain of what to make of the situation, Redin tilted his head slightly, his brow creasing with thought, dimly aware that the sight of the little one was pulling up a long-suppressed memory from the depths of his mind.

Uncertain about a great many things at that moment, the older weasel began to open his mouth to speak when the memory flashed into focus. He flinched as it hit, the strength of the vision catching him unaware. In an instant he was eight years in the past. Brash, reckless, violent... sadistic. These past characteristics returned to him with a burning ferocity. Above it all, a undeniable, insatiable rage. He saw the young weasel, barely old enough to begin learning about the world around him, with hardly a taste of life, and saw his bloodied and broken body cast aside in a ditch and left to die. Just like his own son had been. By his own paws.

But as soon as the memory had sprung, it evaporated, taking the passionate fury back with it. The sudden loss only served to make Redin feel empty, drained... and his day hadn't even started yet.

He shook his head rapidly to refocus his straying thoughts, antagonizing his pounding migraine even more. This time when his vision cleared and his hearing returned, there was another creature nearby, staring at him. This was no surprise to the weasel, he'd been getting nothing but stares since the night he first walked through the front gates, and it had only been getting worse as his health deteriorated. This one.... was a ferret? His mind could not make any sense of how the creature was sitting in a chair, there was certainly no chair there before.

Redin Outmir stared back at the silent creature that made no sense. Realizing the other wasn't going to say anything, the weasel drew his legs in and crossed them in a sitting position, privately uncertain if he could much manage standing. When he opened his mouth to speak, too many different questions attempted to come out at once, and all he succeeded in making was unintelligible noise. Blinking, he stopped, shook his head again(Slowly, this time), and attempted again, his deep, husky voice tainted by a slight tremor. "Who're yew an' wot're ye doin' interruptin' a creature's rest?"

[Rakko]

Brink grinned at Keith's modesty. "Moi clawz bees to burg an' clunkory for playin' ee moosic."

"So, um...have you had breakfast yet?...I haven't..and..well...now that I'm doing better...Maybe you could show me where to find some? I'm not exactly familiar with the lay out of the Abbey yet.."

"Brekkerist? No zurrie, Oi 'azent! Less go gurt zome food!" She was about to step up behind his chair to help wheel him back to the front of the Abbey when he turned and raced off. Confused by what she had done, she raced after him and stopped when he did. The site of the weasel standing not far from young Shiver was odd. Even though they where the same species, the younger looked far different from the older.

Brink raced up to the dibbun's side, unsure of what Redin was going to do. She had figgured if he was in the Abbey, someone of higher standing had probably let him in but she hadn't seen him before. She crouched down next to Shivver and the leaf pile. Curtiously she dipped her velvety head to the older Weasel. "'Ello, zurr. 'Ow beez yoo?"

[greek101]

(( Ooc: Hey Maxodis! I noticed that in your post you mentioned Redin's son...I had a weird idea about that...If you wanted to hear it, or what not...PM me..If not I won't be crushed. Anyways..Here's the post..))


"Moi clawz bees to burg an' clunkory for playin' ee moosic."

Keith smiled. "No one is unable to play music. You just may not be good at the violin. Doesn't mean you aren't good at somethin' else!"

"Brekkerist? No zurrie, Oi 'azent! Less go gurt zome food!"

Keith did not hear Brink when she spoke, he was too focus on trying to find where the other voice came from...
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Keith stared at the crimson furred weasel as he stared back. Keith was unsure of what to do. What was this weasel going to do? Keith didn't have really any weapons if the weasel was to attack (he wasn't rather scary..)...unless you counted some carving knives, but still his chair limited his reach.

The weasel, however did not attack anyone. Instead it crossed it's legs and sat calmly. It appeared like it tired to speak, but nothing came out. So it tried again, and this it it spoke.

Who're yew an' wot're ye doin' interruptin' a creature's rest?"

"Uhhh..." Keith was unsure of what to say. He cleared his throat and tried to think of something to say... "Well..I'm Keith...Splinterclaw....Keith Splinterclaw..And I didn't mean to disturb you..I didn't know you were sleeping...In fact...I heard someone talking...and I wondered who it was..."

Brink, who had apparently followed Keith, rushed forward to the little weasel who sat in the leaf pile. Once she was beside the little one, she greeted the older weasel.

"'Ello, zurr. 'Ow beez yoo?"

"And..." Keith added on to Brink's question. "Who are you?...."

[Maxodis]

"Uhhh... Well..I'm Keith...Splinterclaw....Keith Splinterclaw..And I didn't mean to disturb you..I didn't know you were sleeping...In fact...I heard someone talking...and I wondered who it was..."

Redin watched Keith silently as the ferret struggled to get out the words he was trying to say, his amber eyes impassive. The name didn't ring any bells, or the creature's face. Or chair. Then again, the weasel was not one to make acquaintances.

"'Ello, zurr. 'Ow beez yoo?"

"And... Who are you?...."

His dulled eyes flitted from one speaker to the other as they posed their questions, and he did not speak immediately to reply. Not apt to being much of a conversationalist among other things(Such as being polite, or much being less than threatening), Redin had long relied on the tactic of scaring off most with his demeanor or appearance, leaving any and all necessary social interactions to his travelling companion, Sleet. More often than not, it worked. This was not one of those times.

Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, the battle-scarred weasel's eyes shifted from one younger creature to the other once more. "... Redin," He said slowly, distrust seeping into his voice. "Redin Outmir."

One question down. To the other, it would be so simple to tell the truth. I feel like I'm going to die, and I'm probably right. Thanks for asking. But that was too easy, and it was an answer that was likely to cause him more trouble than its worth.

"I've... I've felt better, that's fer bloody sure."

[Rakko]

It was as if a switch had been turned inside Brink. Once she could recognize the discomfort in Redin's voice and face, she smiled. She left the dibbun in the leaves and walked over to the Weasel. As she looked up at him, she realized she was quite short in compairison to the other creature so she did her best to try to make herself taller by intaking air and standing on her tip-paws. She failed.

Extending one of her paws, she dipped herr head to him. "Oi bees Brinkenya, zuhr! Noice ter meecha Rehddn." She paused, not wanting to seem to forward. "If'n ee dun moind moi askerin', woi bees ee notta felin gurd?"

Before anyone could say anything else, Shiver jumped up from the leaves and ran to the older weasel, wrapping his arms around his legs and hugging tightly.

[Maxodis]

((Redin is sitting :x ))

[greek101]

"... Redin," He said slowly, distrust seeping into his voice. "Redin Outmir."

Redin...That name didn't quite ring any bells in Keith's memory, but of course, living with a solitary squirrel for most of your life with little to no other company limits your knowledge of other creature's a bit...

"I've... I've felt better, that's fer bloody sure."

"Oh...well....Sorry to hear about that...." Keith replied. To tell the truth, this weasel scared Keith a bit. Keith knew what it was like to be misunderstood at first glance, but this Redin...He was just frightening... The tattoos and the piercings gave Keith the shivers. He tried his best to put on a brave face, but Keith knew his nervous voice was giving him away.

Brink and the little weasel babe however, did not appear to share Keith's cautious fear. They both when right up to him with no hesitation and Brink even started conversing more with the sitting weasel.

"Oi bees Brinkenya, zuhr! Noice ter meecha Rehddn." She paused, not wanting to seem to forward. "If'n ee dun moind moi askerin', woi bees ee notta felin gurd?"

Keith could not have said he did the same. Not only was his chair barred from going any further by a cluster of roots, but Keith didn't want to be much closer anyways...especially if Redin wasn't feeling well...

[Maxodis]

"Oh...well....Sorry to hear about that...."

The weasel's expression hardly changed at Keith's awkward expression of sympathy. Such a thing was about as foreign to the weasel as being friendly. Sympathy wasn't something he was looking for, nor expected. It simply did not exist in his world. Redin was far more interested in the peculiar little chair that the uneasy ferret was sitting in. His eyes had enough time to adjust into focus, but were they deceiving him or did that chair have.... wheels? A brief expression of confusion flashed across the weasel's brow before the other creature's advance drew his attention. It was no cautious or nervous approach either, and as the weasel's amber eyes shifted back to the molemaid old alarms began to go off loudly in his head. As she came to a stop before him, he could feel the fur at the back of his neck rising stiffly.

"Oi bees Brinkenya, zuhr! Noice ter meecha Rehddn. If'n ee dun moind moi askerin', woi bees ee notta felin gurd?"

Redin was unable to decipher the words coming out of the mole's mouth as she spoke them. He discovered in short order that he was unable to decipher them several seconds after she had spoken them too. Staring at her incredulously, he began to wonder if there were speaking the same language to begin with. ".... Wait, wot?"

The mole was just a distraction, merely a device meant to take down his guard in order for the real threat to strike. So lost was he in wondering what this dark little creature had potentially said about his mother that Redin did not notice the flying blur until it was neatly and securely attached to his leg. For all his weakness, fatigue, and general poor state of health, Redin could still move fast when he wanted to, and proved it by scrambling several feet backwards, little weasel in tow. His face, having quickly gone from cautious, to confused, to incredulous, now clearly portrayed an expression of utter shock. He would probably have continued to backpedal through the damp leaves had he not run his back into another tree. He remained frozen until the last of the bells attached to his face-chains, disturbed by the sudden rush of movement, ceased their soft ringing. The little weasel was still there, tiny arms pinning the tattered cloth of his well-worn pants to the sinuous bulge of muscle on his foreleg.

It was more than he was immediately prepared for, and the already broken weasel could feel the cracks invading his mind split slightly wider. He could hear his thoughts coming again in a rush, others beginning before their predecessors had even finished, all indecipherable but all corrupted with the same feel. They all wanted the same thing.

Fighting suddenly for control, he shook his head violently, ringing his face-bells harshly as he tried to dispel the mad rush within his mind and the sharp taste of fear from his tongue, the likes of which had seemingly become leaden and refused to work with him as he attempted to repeat his question.

[Rakko]

Brink couldn't help but giggle. Sure, the beast was somewhat scary looking, but she trusted her Abbot. Redmir would not be inside the Abbey if he was (overly) dangerous and the molemaid had little fear inside her.

".... Wait, wot?"

She cocked her head slightly. Was she not being clear? She pointed to her self and spoke again. "Oi'm Brinkenya. Brink fuhr shurt." She pointed to him. "Woiya yee bees nurta feelin gurd?"

The smaller weasle had quite enjoyed the ride of flying backwards. He laughed loudly at the elder's reaction. And, after seeing he still had no idea what Brink had said, the babe translated. Letting go of his pant leg, he put his paws on his hips and rolled his eyes playfully. "She'm said: 'Mah name is Brink, why yous notta feelin' goohd?' yeh silly raskler!"

[Maxodis]

((As I understand it there is no abbot either.))

[Rakko]

**I know there isn't one being played, I just figured it'd be an NPC until one is created**

[Maxodis]

((Nah, as I understand it, the Skipper is acting in that role until one is chosen.))