Far From Home [Jenn]

[Amble]

Picture a few rays of hot sunshine filtering through the thick canopy, snaking its way through the mangroves, tall grasses, and piercing into the darkness. Picture these brave few beams sliding down the vines that are looping around and around the ancient trees, most of them poisonous in some way or another. These plants greedily soak up the sun, stealing the warmth and light for themselves, leaving only the palest remnants for the other Marsh dwellers. Creatures that aren’t seen anywhere else in the world, and are barely seen here, either. No, these earthly monsters prefer to hide in the shadows and the thick, slow-moving waters that make up most of insidious and infamous Golfam Marsh. Which begs the question, who would ever choose to live in such a place?

Well, at this moment Cork wanted nothing more than to be back there, in the cabin deep in the bayou that his family had lived in since the Marsh was colonized. Life was a struggle there, of course – complete with a whole lot of fights, illness, and fear – but he would give anything to go back. Living in the Marsh meant living on the edge, where his strength was reaffirmed each and every day. He had done and seen things there that any civilized person would be disgusted with, but that was his life and that was what he was bred for.

Not this. These busy streets, crowded with loud and obvious Cards who lived cushy lives and didn’t know anything else. Didn’t know how to catch fish, or stalk, or kill – just sip tea and soak up the sun like the plants of his homeland. They led lazy lives, and he was thoroughly sick of it.

Still, there was work to be done. His dear twin sister – one of the only member of his immediate family still alive – had passed away only five weeks ago, but all Cork wanted to do was put her affairs in order. The Marsh dwellers were not a race of prolonged grief, so no matter what he was feeling towards the loss of his other half, one would never know by looking at him.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how much sadness he was actually feeling; he was angry at losing yet another member of his clan, of course, but she was a deserter. After the death of their mother she had just upped and left, claiming that she couldn’t stand feeling suffocated any longer. He had no idea what she was talking about, and in traditional fashion cut all communications with her. Hell, he had only learned of her death two weeks ago.

By now, he had transformed her cozy little apartment into a tiny Marsh lodging. Thick black curtains blocked most of the sunlight and the plush blue carpet had been ripped out, revealing the dark wood floor beneath. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep his sanity.

Today, however, was overcast and humid: as close to Marsh weather as he could expect so far from home. Therefore, he was taking the opportunity to go outside, skulking nervously a few blocks away to an overgrown park. It was the only place beside his modified apartment he felt even remotely comfortable.

[The Jenn]

Warm and oppressively damp... not a day that Vanja would have chosen to spend outside if he felt that he had a choice in the matter. However, he would not have felt comfortable in shirking his duties to the gods and his people indoors. What would he have done? Very little. And so he ventured outside.

At least his newly-found human form gave him some manner of relief from the humidity of the day. Even in his full priestly ensemble minus the incense burner, the lack of fur weighing him down could only be counted as a blessing. If anything, he garnered even more attention as a human! Which could only help his cause. His family would be very proud of him when he finally returned home to reveal this new development.

The stigma of a low-ranking Card with a human form remained unknown to him. People wouldn't be able to see his rank on a normal day with his clothing and he dwelled on the number rarely. Rank simply didn't matter in the Calloo and the preoccupation of other realms often confused him. Why should it matter?

Encouraged to begin the day's missionary work, he began on the streets surrounding his small rented room. Within half an hour, however, the constant ebb and swell of people began to take its toll on his energy. Being surrounded by so many of them almost served to make him feel warmer. He could find little shade on the streets. Even in his human form, the sweat trickling down his face and back had reached an uncomfortable level.

Enough. He could perform his work elsewhere, perhaps somewhere less crowded. The city offered various points of refuge. While the central fountain park would likely be teeming with people at this time of day, others might prove less... intense. And he had never been to the park nearest his dwelling, which struck him as somewhat odd. Perhaps he had been remiss in avoiding it. A private setting might garner him more of a one-on-one atmosphere with a potential convert. While there was something to be said for reaching the masses, good could also come from attending to the needs of an individual.

Twenty minutes later found him walking the paths of a surprisingly untended park. With the recent upheaval in the city, he could imagine that the groundskeepers had other things to occupy their time. It still surprised him in the face of the beautifully manicured to which he had become accustomed.

With a small sigh, he turned down another side path in hopes of finding someone receptive - and instead came nearly face-to-face with a Golfam.

Oh. Oh. He distinctly felt his human skin crawl in an action previously described but never understood, further adding to the suddenly surreal nature of the scene. Monstrous creature. It didn't look too terribly well-disposed either, or perhaps that was its normal belligerent expression? Either way, he would not find the receptive soul he was looking for in this person. The expression on his strange human face seemed difficult to control from lack of practice, but also difficult for most Cards to read.

((Sorry for the wait! Also for the lame. <3 Vanja can me a little time to work myself into. But squee! Your writing is fantastic.))

[Amble]

He took a deep breath of the humid air, letting it fall heavily in his lungs. Unlike many of his Card counterparts, he had no hobbies and despite that rarely felt bored. His sole pastime – if one could even call it that – was surviving. Branching off of that singular pleasure was the mere state of being, which sounded extremely philosophical but really was the exact opposite. Cork never spent much time thinking, moralizing, or the like; instead, he was consumed with animal sensations that drove him to act impulsively and dangerously. Some might derogatorily call this brutish, but he always reveled in his primitiveness. He was a Golfam, after all.

Mud squished underneath his feet, and he felt himself slide comfortably into a trance-like state. No one on the outside would expect the Marsh dwellers of achieving anything close to a meditative state, but he was like most of his clan in that he possessed an easy ability to slide into himself. This wasn’t introspection at all – he didn’t care about that nonsense – but it was almost as if he melted into the ground itself. He smelled the thick spring air tinged with soot and the smell of too many people packed together, feel the dirt underneath him shift temperature ever so slightly with the moving sun. If Golfam residents could ever feel anything resembling peace, this was it.

He smelled the fabric and human skin before the figure came into view. Instinctively, his green lips curled into a snarl. Nothing personal, just the way Marsh dwellers were taught to respond to outsiders, with cobblestones under their feet and books in their hands. Waste of time, all that.

Cork took a perverse pleasure in the fear and distaste these silly people, much like the bedecked human in front of him, felt for those like himself. He hadn’t gotten into a fight since he traveled from the mangroves and shadows, but that had to do with his distaste of the civilized world more than anything else. The look he was receiving from the pale, sickly fellow more than made up for it.

“You want something, huh?"[/color] He asked lazily, more amused than bothered for the time being. His voice was rough and intoned with confidence born from surviving this long.

(ooc: Oh no, it's really no problem! I was busy with the holiday anyway. c: And thank you so much! I love my little tough guy haha.)

[The Jenn]

Vanja wondered if its posture had been inherited or learned. Ugh. He'd only had the misfortune of running into a handful of individuals from the Golfam in his travels thus far and he had taken pains to steer clear of them, much like the Tulgeys and the unfortunately common Corvistowne and Yarrow residents.

"Not at all," he replied stiffly, his discomfort making his accent slightly more prominent and clipped. No, he most certainly did not want anything from the Golfam. "Our meeting is purely accidental. Excuse me."

He should take care to remember in the future that the poorly groomed parks began to attract vagrants and unpleasant sorts. It would have been one thing if the man was another realm, but, well... no. His culture spoke very clearly on the distinctions between various realm origins, however diluted by the insanity of the Capital City. The missionaries stayed away from Golfam monsters for a reason.

Would the man follow him if he turned? Or would turning his back be unwise? He didn't particularly want to walk past him within harm's reach. After a moment's indecision, he turned and began walking back the way he had come.

[The Jenn]

((Since you haven't logged in since before I posted this, I'm going to guess that it's done... but if you ever come back and want to play more then please give me a poke. <3))