Prompt Opportunity 04

[Prompter]

PROMPT THREAD

SITUATION

After briefly wandering around the Orchard, two characters come upon a pod containing an unborn native that is so densely and tightly covered with ivy and tree branches that it is suffocating.

CHARACTERS

Two characters who have not thus far left the Orchard, posting a minimum of eight times each.

PRIZE

Unlock the first Hidden Setting Tier

[poppy]

f e n n e l . . .

It was the worst kind of day. Hot, humid, and cloudy. Fennel had done nothing but laze around for the past few hours, and he was becoming twitchy with inactivity. Every so often, he got up to get a drink of water or catch a mouse when he was feeling peckish, but for the most part, it was far too hot for movement.

When the canine became hungry yet again (growing boys need lots of food), he padded slowly around the orchard. There was no sign of movement. Then ... he saw it. A rabbit, plump and ripe for the picking.

Forgetting all reason, Fennel broke into a mad dash after the rabbit, barking the whole way. He practically made enough noise to scare off every prey animal in a 50 mile radius. The rabbit, of course, got away. When Fennel finally gave up chasing it, he panted heavily and flopped down under the shade of a tree.

That's funny, he thought, glancing sideways at the tree. Look at all that ivy. It's pretty, though. Not once did it cross his mind that there might be something wrapped in the ivy. Something that needed help.

[mysteryfaith]

Orad's eyes tingled as the light of day touched him for the first time; it was warm, and exciting, and refreshing! When he had fallen from the tree, he had found himself plunged into darkness - born at night, he had never seen such a magical and beautiful thing. He felt warmth creeping over him, overtaking the coolness of the night, and felt sunrays caressing his red tabby fur. His amber eyes were alight with joy as he pranced around the Orchard, tail swishing happily.

He had been told that he could leave the Orchard at any time - he just had to set off into the world, and he would never have to come back here again. But he felt that he would miss this place - he'd miss the fresh air, the open space, and most importantly, he'd miss the closest thing to a parent one could have in this world: the tree he'd been a sapling of. Orad heaved a sigh; this was too difficult for him, a simple young feline with his whole life ahead of him. He needed something to make him leave, or something to make him stay - he would leave it up to fate which one he got.

It was as he was trotting around, enjoying the fairly new sensation of springy grass beneath his paws, that he came across it. Still rather slimy from the tree it had fallen from, it looked like - well, a pod. Was this what he had looked like before he had been hatched into the world? Ugh! He hoped not. This pod was wrapped tightly in ivy and branches, protecting it - suffocating it. This tree doesn't want to lose its child, Orad thought with a pang of pity for both the pod and the tree. It won't let go.

Orad's tail swished with interest, and he leaned forward to smell the pod; milky, but slightly sour. It had a strange scent that pushed him back into yesterday, into the memories of the tree that had finally let him drop. This tree obviously didn't have the same sense as the tree that Orad had fallen from; although it seemed harsh to call a grieving parent selfish, Orad couldn't help but thing that only that word could describe the pod-gripping tree.

"I wonder how we can get him lose?" he pondered aloud, frowning at the hanging pod. It was quite high up, still hanging from the tree, and he wouldn't be able to loosen the tree's grip without help. "I can't do this on my own," he muttered quietly.

[poppy]

f e n n e l . . .

Fennel closed his eyes and let his tongue hang out as he tried to get cooler in the shade. He was already half-asleep before he heard something approaching. There was a rustle of grass and faint footfalls. They sounded too light to belong to a canine. Must be a new feline around here, Fennel thought. I wonder who it is.

He slowly got to his feet, stretched, and then trotted around the base of the tree to greet the newcomer. He was right; it was a feline, and a funny-looking one, at that. Of course, Fennel had only ever seen one other feline in his life, so they all looked funny to him.

The canine observed the newcomer. It was orange, with ginger tabby stripes and orange eyes. He glanced down at his own three-toned coat that seemed plain in comparison, then he watched some more. The cat appeared to be looking up at the tree ... but at what? How interesting. Fennel decided it was time to introduce himself.

"Hello!" he said. "I'm Fennel. I've never seen you before. What's your name?"

[mysteryfaith]

Orad jumped when he heard another voice; he had been so consumed by the image of the ivy-wrapped pod, he hadn't thought to look around the Orchard and see if anyone else was there. Before him stood a canine - compared to the only other canine he'd met, this one seemed . . . different. Ah - must be a male!

The tabby found himself stuck awkwardly in the moment: what did he do now? The only other creature he'd met had been easier to talk to, because she didn't really need to be introduced; she just hopped into his life, left him wonderstruck for a moment - in fact, he was still reeling from her effect - and then hopped out again. He couldn't quite see this canine hopping into his life.

"H-hello," Orad murmured, bowing his head slightly - what? Why was he bowing? Oh well, it was too late to fix it now - quickly straightening himself up, he tried to flash a confident smile at the canine, but ended up just awkwardly baring his teeth. He covered them up again swiftly with his lips, and let out a small, embarrassed sigh. "I'm Orad. I came out of my pod yesterday - that's why you haven't seen me around before."

The feline stopped embarrassing himself, and chewed over the canine's name. Fennel. He thought that, despite the canine's lack of hop-ability like Whisper had, he might just get along with this Fennel creature. However, one thing was more important than all of this - the stilted conversations and awkward where-should-I-look moments. Orad found his gaze wondering back up to the ivy-clasped egg, and gasped. Was it gripping the pod . . . tighter?

"Look," the feline murmured, indicating with his tail towards the hanging pod. "That thing's in trouble - that could've been either one of us in there." He imagined himself, trapped in his pod, unaware that very soon he would be denied a chance to live. "That tree loves its pod too much to let it go."

Orad was aware from the beginning that perhaps other creatures did not see life like him; seeing everything as a living, breathing creature, just like himself. Perhaps the tree didn't really feel anything for its pod - perhaps it was just nature gone wrong, fate sentencing the tiny feline or canine in that pod to die. At least, that's what other seemed to think; they didn't experience things like he did. He wasn't sure yet whether this was a virtue or a curse.

"I think we should help it," Orad announced abruptly. He was a shy, reserved feline - naive at best - but something told him that he couldn't just leave that little egg to die. It had someone alive in there, and though he hated the idea of ripping a motherly tree from one of its many offspring, he couldn't just sacrifice one life for someone else's happiness. The tree would bear many more saplings in the future; it could face letting this one go. The only problem was . . . how could they free the pod?

[poppy]

f e n n e l . . .

Fennel watched as the feline smiled awkwardly at him. The canine lacked the ability to discern that Orad was slightly uncomfortable, though, so he carried on as though everything was just peachy. He parted his lips in an expression that could be equated to smiling.

"Orad," he said. Fennel thought it was a strange name. Everything about this world was strange. He didn't know if he would ever become good at things -- running, hunting, talking. He did, however, decide that it was a good strange. A strange that he could get used to. "I came out of my pod yesterday too. We must've not seen each other then."

Fennel followed Orad's gaze to the entanglement of vines and branches where the pod was encased. "Oh! So that's what I was looking at before. I didn't think there was anything in it, though..." That poor child, trapped in its pod. It must be dying. Maybe it can't breathe! Fennel couldn't imagine not being able to breathe. Breath meant life, so this tree was killing its own offspring.

"Shame on you, tree," he said aloud. The canine thought for a moment. "You're right. We definitely have to get it out. But how? I can't climb, so I don't think I'd be of any use. Can you?"

[mysteryfaith]

Orad felt a tiny rush of relief at the canine's words; apparently, he too had only hatched yesterday, so they were both stuck in this crazy world together, discovering things step by step. Something about not being alone made Orad feel warm inside; like he would make it through in the end, because there was someone who understood him, and felt his pain.

He heard the canine questioning their skills: how could they get that little pod out of the killer grip of its parent tree? Being a canine, Fennel couldn't climb trees - but Orad could. At least, he thought he could - he'd seen a few other felines in the distance doing it, just clawing their way up the bark as if it were an everyday task. "Let me see if I can climb this tree," he murmured, licking his lips in concentration. Taking a few deep breaths and then going for a long run-up, Orad launched himself at the tree, and felt his claws connect with rough bark.

Yes! He was hanging precariously from the bark of the tree, clinging on with the very tips of his claws, but he was still managing it - and he was quite sure that it was more than Fennel could do. He slowly removed one shaky paw from the tree, stretched it upwards to climb higher, and - oof! With a thump, Orad landed on the gnarled roots at the tree's base, having slipped and fallen from his clawhold. It wasn't a heavy fall - in fact, he had only been a foot or so above the ground - but his pride was heavily wounded.

"Okay, perhaps I can't climb trees yet," he muttered, blinking as his eyes watered from the pain on his back. It soon passed, however, replaced by more wondering as to how they would save the pod. If it was suffocating, or would soon suffocate, they had to rescue it quickly . . . but how?

Orad noted the presence of a nearby rock that jutted upwards, but it was a good metre away from the pod. Unless they could both work together to somehow hit the pod, the rock wouldn't be of much use to them. Even if they did hit the little sapling, it was unlikely to fall - saplings tended to fall only when the tree was ready to release them, and trying to force the pod away might make it even more determined to hold on to it. There was only one thing he could think of, and he realised that it might sound crazy when he said it out loud - but to save this pod-creature's life, he had to risk it.

"You don't think we could . . . coax the tree into dropping the pod?" Orad was aware that things were very odd here; things didn't work perhaps as 'normally' as they should do. The creatures here were strange, and the plants exotic; the world was large and yet in many ways small, exclusive. "I mean, the tree might understand us. I don't know how things work here, but it might just work . . ." After all, trees had to be able to communicate somehow - how else had Orad learned that his name was Orad? The tree had told him that, of course. If the tree hadn't, he would be nameless.

For a moment, he pondered what the pod-creature's name would be . . . if the tree had even given it a name. Maybe the reason the pod was being suffocated was because the tree didn't want it to live? Oh, how sad - an unwanted pod, containing one little canine or feline without a chance to live because the tree didn't desire it. It was a full-grown sapling, and probably would have dropped any day soon if it weren't for the ivy surrounding it.

With a determined set to his jaw, Orad approached the tree's trunk, and sat down next to it. At first, he was cautious - self-conscious, even, for although both he and Fennel were there to achieve the same thing, he wasn't sure whether his idea was genius, or just stupid. "Excuse me, tree," Orad murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need you to drop this pod, please. I know you don't want it to live, but . . . please. Even if you don't want it, we do. Come on, tree - it deserves a chance to live! It deserves a chance to go through what we have; I love this place, even though it terrifies and mystifies me. You must love it too; so why won't you let your sapling experience it?"

Nothing seemed to be changing, so Orad cast a quick, half-desperate glance at Fennel. "Perhaps it would work better if we were both doing it?" he muttered cautiously, aware that he must sound like some crazy feline, murmuring to a tree to release its ivy-wrapped pod.

[poppy]

f e n n e l . . .

Fennel watched as Orad tried to climb the tree. He could feel his own excitement building as the feline took a running start and leaped, digging his claws into the bark. Fennel barked in encouragement. "You've got it, Orad! You've got--"

That was when Orad fell to the ground with a thump. Fennel could feel the disappointment rush through him. It wasn't Orad's fault, of course, but the canine really, truly believed that it could work. Now they had to find a new way to get the pod out of its murderous parent.

When Orad started talking to the tree, Fennel only nodded and watched more. I don't think this is going to work, he thought skeptically. It was worth a try, though. Anything that he could do to help the pod, he would do. He was a canine willing to go to great lengths to help others, even ones who weren't born yet.

As Orad tried to coax the tree into dropping its child, Fennel thought and thought about different ways, should talking not work. They probably couldn't get it out by force -- he had wanted Orad to climb up and slash through the vines with his claws, but neither of them could climb. Could we ... burn the tree? No, that wouldn't work. We would be trying to kill the tree, which is even worse than what the tree is doing. What can we do, then?

The feline proposed that both of them try talking to the tree. Fennel was willing to give it a shot, but he didn't think it would help. "Kind sir tree," he began formally, "would you please do us the favor of dropping your sapling? I understand that you must love it very much. But I have heard it said that if you love something, you should let it go. If it comes back to you, then it's yours. If not, then it never was.

"Please, tree, let your child go. Orad and I will personally make sure it comes back to visit you." Fennel sat at the base of the tree and stared up at the pod. There! It might have been a slight movement. He couldn't tell with all the sun and the branches and vines, but he thought he saw something.

"Orad, it might just be my imagination, but is the tree stirring?"

[mysteryfaith]

Orad felt a small glow of appreciation as Fennel came forward, willing to help him talk to the tree. As they both murmured encouragement to it, Orad seemed to notice a shift - just a slight movement, a shuffling of the leaves, a twitching of the trunk . . . the feline wondered if it was just his eyesight until Fennel confirmed his suspicions. The tree really was reacting to their words!

"Please, tree," Orad continued, his voice growing more desperate; even though the tree was finally shifting, he could see the pod was still in danger. Until that pod had fallen from its place, and the tree had let go completely, then they had to keep working at it. "We need you to drop your child. It's going to be difficult, and you're going to miss them, but Fennel's right; if you love something, you should let it go. We'll get them to visit you, we promise!"

Creaaaak. Yes! The tree had moved again, this time a little further; Orad glanced up towards the pod, and saw with a mixture of shock and pleasure that some of the vines had crept away, leaving the pod with room to breathe. "Come on, Fennel - let's keep going!"

The murmurs of encouragement continued, flowing steadily from Orad's mouth as he thought of every possible comfort he could provide for this poor tree. He felt for it; it was a parent, possibly a young tree which hadn't released many saplings before, and now it had to give its child up. If he were in its situation, he would probably cling on to this pod, too. But they couldn't let the pod die, which it would do if the tree kept hold of it; it would be a murder of love, and could only end in tears for everyone.

As Orad whispered away, not really listening to himself speaking any more and just saying whatever felt right, he wondered what would happen to himself and Fennel after today. They would try to free the pod, and maybe they would succeed in that task - but what happened after that? Despite their short time together, Orad had grown rather fond of his new friend; they worked well as a team, and he had begun to trust the canine. With a short smile, he shot a glance at his new companion - he did hope they would stay friends after this. It would make sense to keep in touch, at least.

Out of breath after hearing the tree creak once more, and seeing the vines slowly unwrap themselves from around the pod, Orad relaxed for a moment. He stopped mumbling, and shut his eyes for a brief second; in his head, he could see the pod falling, and cracking open to reveal a terribly grateful young sapling, thanking them for their work. He knew that real life would never be so kind - the sapling would probably have no idea that right now, it was being suffocated, and two strangers were working together to save it.

"Fennel," he muttered, turning his feline gaze upon the canine beside him. He had to ask this question now - Fennel was one of his first friends, and he couldn't lose him after they'd come so close. "After this is over . . . we should keep in touch." Clumsily, he flicked his tail gently across Fennel's shoulder, a sign of appreciation. "I think we could be friends, you know. Rad and Fen, Fen and Rad." The nicknames rolled easily off his small tongue, but he knew he'd probably never call Fennel 'Fen' - he'd simply used the words to see how their names sounded together. They sounded great - so surely that was a sign that they had to stick together?

He suddenly realised how he might sound; a sad young feline, traipsing around asking anyone and everyone to be his friend. "I mean, you don't have to - young canine like you, must be busy doing other things . . . I just think this experience has connected us. I mean, we've saved a life!" He quickly corrected himself, glancing up at the pod still hanging from the tree branches with a few vines remaining wrapped around its shell. "Well, we're saving a life. And I don't mean romantically getting together, by the way," he added swiftly; why could he never get his point across clearly, without all of this mumbling and silly mistakes? "I just meant . . . as friends."

He sighed, and turned back to the tree; his attempt had seemingly failed. Feeling a little deflated at his own awkward failures, he wondered if Fennel had even heard him, let alone understood him - he had a naturally quiet voice, and was rather shy. He wouldn't be surprised to see the canine still muttering away to the tree, unaware that Orad had ever spoken. Stupid, stupid, stupid, the feline cursed himself bitterly, beginning another stream of slightly disheartened whispers to the tree. This time, it didn't creak; perhaps it could tell that his heart wasn't in it.

((OOC: When the pod drops, Embers is coming in to roleplay the newborn, by the way (: ))

[poppy]

f e n n e l . . .

Fennel blinked slowly once or twice. He wasn't quite sure that he'd heard Orad correctly. "Friends?" he repeated. The canine had good friends already, but come to think of it, his friends were mostly just other canines and felines that he tagged along with when he didn't have much else to do.

"So, you really mean it? You want to keep in touch after this?" No one had ever asked to be his friend before, so this was quite a new experience for him, and it made him giddy with happiness. A friend. I have a friend. Orad's awkward way of asking might as well have been smooth and glib for all the difference it made to him. He had a friend, and nothing else mattered.

Fennel grinned foolishly at Orad. "Fen and Rad, Rad and Fen," he said in a sing-song voice. The names rolled off his tongue, like they were meant to be sung together. "I like it!" He wagged his tail and fondly licked the feline's head.

There was a sharp crack above his head, and the canine jolted back in surprise. A branch must have snapped off the tree, as if it were saying, You're right. I should let go. Fennel turned his full attention back to the tree to call encouragements.

"Yes, tree! Keep going; you're almost there." The vines continued to alleviate their grip on the pod. "You've got it! Think about all the good you're doing, tree! Are you excited to meet your child? Because I am!"

Fennel stared at the tree, wagging his tail wildly. "Great job! Just keep going. A little more ... a little more." Snap, snap, snap went the branches. The ivy vines slowly unraveled, one at a time. The canine turned back to Orad.

"I think it's going to drop soon," he panted. "We should get into position to catch the pod when it falls, or the sapling will be hurt." Fennel moved so that he sat directly under the pod. His plan was to sit and wait for it to fall on his back, then have it slide down to his tail, and have Orad take it from there. It would probably hatch right after falling. He could barely contain his excitement. His tail wagged more; he panted heavily. He was about to witness a new creation.

OOC: Ooh, that'll be fun.

[mysteryfaith]

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[atrb=background,http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/hh52/warriorcat12345/oradfiller.png] Orad's relief at this male's acceptance was so rich, he could almost taste it; his eyes fluttered with joy, and his tail began to swish quite contentedly. "Th-that's great!" he managed to force out, so flustered by the enthusiasm of the canine that he was getting a little dizzy. "That's really, really great! So, we're . . . friends!" He couldn't help but grin at the word - perhaps he wasn't as terrible at friend-making as he had first thought. But now, there were more important things at hand - like the pod! Orad watched with delight as the vines slowly began to unwrap, their spindly tendrils unfurling with the constant encouragement of Fennel. "Go on, tree!" he called out to it, his eyes wide with happiness; could this day get any better? "You can do this! You can let go!" Just as Orad said this, the tree let out a tiny popping sound, and the pod dropped from its once-tangled state - it rocketed down to the earth, rolled down Fennel's back and straight into the feline's paws. In the split-second he had before it hit him, he had a decision to make - avoid it and let it smash into something else, or take the blow and face the consequences? Too late to change his mind now; steeling his nerves, he stayed exactly where he was, and prepared for a hard smack in the face. Pain shot to his muzzle immediately, followed by the salty tang of blood - but all of this was irrelevant after the loud crack! that came from the pod's shell. It lay on the floor before him, oozing pod goo and cracked just a tiny bit. Now, it would be up to the tiny creature inside to come out - it had to push its way into the world now that its loving mother-tree had relented, and let it fall to the ground. Though Orad was in terrible pain from his nose bleed, and knew he'd have a massive bruise there for several days, he couldn't care less; they had helped to bring this tiny pod into the world, safe and apparently healthy! Orad couldn't help but shoot a fond gaze at Fennel, as if they were the proud parents of this tiny sapling. They had worked together to bring it down - and become friends in the process - and now, still lying in its pod at his paws, they had the product of their efforts. I wonder who's waiting inside? he pondered to himself, leaning down to take a closer look even though some of his blood was no dripping down on to the pod. Quickly, he pulled himself back, and shot an apologetic smile at Fennel despite his red-soaked face. "It hit me in the muzzle," he murmured, as if the canine needed an explanation - he had probably seen the incident first-hand. The feline was a little stunned, and his vision had blurred slightly from the shock of the blow. "I think I may need to clean myself up . . ." he muttered only half-coherently, feeling a sudden, overwhelming need to sleep overcoming him. As he lay down on the soft grass, he thought of how comfortable this soft, springy bed was for him, and how nice it would be just to go to sleep . . . ((OOC: He's not dying, he's just passing out. xP))

[poppy]

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[atrb=background,http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/hh52/warriorcat12345/fennelfiller.png] Fennel grinned at Orad, his new friend, and watched in amazement as the vines relinquished their grip entirely. The pod seemed to fall in slow motion. Luckily, he'd had the presence of mind to position himself so that the fall would be broken by his back. There was a loud thunk as it hit, then rolled off his back and onto ... Orad's nose. The feline leaned down to inspect the pod. Fennel smiled at him again. They could certainly be surrogate parents for whatever came out of this pod. How amazing this whole experience was! A new friend and a new life, all at once. "Thank you, tree!" he exclaimed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He padded closer to see the pod, maybe peer inside it. Then, in horror, he recoiled when he saw red sap leak from Orad's nose. "Orad?!" Fennel demanded. "Orad, what's going on? Are you all right? You don't look so good. That red sap is coming out of your nose." Orad only mumbled something about needing to clean up before he stopped responding. "Orad, answer me! Orad? Orad, why won't you speak?" His question was answered when Orad slumped to the ground, hitting the soft, lush grass. Fennel felt a rush of panic. Was his friend dying? Fennel barked loudly in Orad's ear. "Please, get up! The pod is going to hatch soon. Please!" When there was no response, he barked again, this time in the general direction of the other inhabitants for the Orchard. "Help! Help, somebody! Orad is dying!" Throwing a distressed look at the pod, Fennel nosed Orad's body. He heaved a sigh of relief when he realized that the feline was still breathing. He's alive, Fennel thought, but why on earth won't he speak? He doesn't hate me already, does he? Is that why he won't answer me? There was a slight crackling sound. The pod! It must be starting to hatch! "Orad," he said in a clear voice, "I don't understand why you won't answer me anymore. I'm sure you have your reasons, though, even if I don't like them. But the pod is starting to hatch and I want you to be there to see it. You helped save this life, after all." OOC: Do you want Ems to come in now, or after you post again? XD We only have a few replies left to go, so yeah.