musashi-no-kami-blog

[sonata-stigmata]

the puppies got out so i had to scoop them all up in my arms and football carry them until i could find a box to put them in while i fixed the pen

[drcrushers]

happy secret songbird to my lovely giftee, @weraiseourcups! I hope you enjoy this very adorable ficlet! it’s not full fledged because i worried about getting it done in time, but i hope you enjoy it and it brings a smile!

dog days of summer ( in which orpheus and eurydice adopt a . . . . dog? )

Winter had come and gone, and as the snow and frosts began to thaw and signal the return of Lady Persephone, it meant more natural resources were available for food. Not much sprouted in the very earliest days of spring, but Eurydice had long since learned when things grew, when they could be picked, and what purpose they would do to solve the aching in her belly. And now with feeding both her and Orpheus, things had become very, very tight over the winter months. Even if they hadn’t been as harsh as they had once upon a time when the gods below were fighting, it was still never a good season.  But they had survived. And Orpheus was gonna make some sort of hearty stew to celebrate while they counted the days until they would go out to the train platform to greet their Lady. So Eurydice had charged herself to trod through the muddy fields after tubers that could almost be called potatoes (they weren’t, but if you closed your eyes they tasted the same). Roots were the only thing that often survived the deep frosts.  Carrying a basket of a few pickings, she ventures deeper into the fields while trying to avoid the mud because she isn’t sure her worn boots will handle it without it seeping in, then they’ll take days to dry out. The sun is high and it’s almost warm, but not quite; she still has her coat on. At least the wind doesn’t bite her face. The brushes shift somewhere to her left with the wind - except, no. Not with the wind. It sounds like something is lurking and for a brief, panic striken moment Eurydice worries some gnarl toothed creature has come out of hibernation and is seeking a meal. She moves swiftly in the opposite direction, but nothing chases her. The tall grasses just rustle a bit more and there’s a noise she can’t place; a snort, maybe. Or huff. Another rustle. A yelp, and something dark suddenly darts out of the brush being chases by something else darkly furred. 

The first creature she recognises as a dog. A puppy, with how small it is, the fur matted in mud and little legs carrying it swiftly toward her. The second shape she recognises dimly as a badger, hissing and spitting like some creature from the underworld. Without thinking Eurydice launches a rock at the thing - not meaning to hit it, just to scare it off. It takes two more rock throws for the badger to be deterred from chasing the canine that had likely wandered too close to it’s nesting area. 

“Hey there, little guy.” Eurydice greets, stooping to ensure the dog is okay. She doesn’t see blood, and it approaches her with a cautious air - but the second it realises Eurydice isn’t gonna hurt it, it tries to climb clumsily into her embrace. She smiles softly, and scratches a patch of fur behind his ear that isn’t muddied. “Gotta be more careful. You lost all the way out here?”

The puppy does not reply, but as Eurydice tries to feel for a collar there is none. Those dark eyes flick up to her and a pink tongue lolls out of it’s mouth before it tries to lick her face. She laughs quietly for the first time in a while - and she knows immediately she cannot leave this poor creature to starve. If the winter was hard on them, she can’t imagine what it would be like for the puppy. Maybe someone in town will be missing him or if not, would at least take him in and keep him as their own. Eurydice has always loved dogs, always wanted one - but she isn’t sure she can afford to feed both she and Orpheus and a dog. Especially through winter. Food is already scarce and she can’t imagine finding things suitable for a dog is easy. 

But he’s clearly alone in the fields, and Eurydice doesn’t want him stumbling on anymore pissed off badgers, so she coos softly and somehow the poor thing seems to know to trust her, because when she takes a few steps it follows. A few more, and the puppy is still trailing after her. Clutching her gatherings of meager tubers, she sets off at a slower pace with her new charge hopping along after her. 

Orpheus isn’t home - he’s been helping Hermes clean up the bar a bit for it’s spring re-opening. So Eurydice drops the food off inside their small little place and leads the dog around to the side where there’s a spout for a hose for the garden they’ve never had. She hopes the water isn’t frozen still. The pipes groan a bit when she turns the valve, but water shoots out a moment later. She waits until it runs clear before she cups it and sets about a mission of trying to clear the mud from the puppy - who just wants to play. He twists and yips as her fingers dig into his fur, which is darkly colored without the mud coating it. She doesn’t have any clue to what breed he might be, but his eyes are soft and she’s in love all over again if she’s honest with herself.  She uses a spare towel from her bath last night to mostly attempt to dry the creature off (but the dog shakes vigourously inside the door and splatters water across the floor. She laughs.  “We’ll get you a good place. Shelter. Somewhere nice and warm, yeah?” She ruffles his fur atop his head. “I bet you’re hungry.” She doesn’t get a response, except a soft sneeze that just sends more water across the floorboards. She takes hat as a yes, and tries to find something in their bare cabinets that might suit a dog. She settles on a bit of bread for the time being, and sits in the kitchen floor to feed this little one. Her heart melts as he munches away at the bits of bread that might be a little stale, if she’s honest. He’s cute. More than. In a weird way, he reminds her of Orpheus.  Orpheus. Will he be mad to find she’s taken on a stowaway? Of course he isn’t, she realises when he returns home and is immediately as bright eyed as the damn dog is. And it’s just downright adorable when the dog nestles into Orpheus’ lap that evening near the fire - Eurydice should be mad because that’s her spot, but she’s not. A worthwhile sacrifice. She sits beside her husband and idly strokes the dog’s fur while they talk in quiet tones. “I’ll go into town tomorrow. See if anyone’s lost him.” She promises, and tries to ignore the sadness in her gut.  She keeps her promise though - and it isn’t worth much. No one in town has lost a pet. She switches tactics, tries to see if anyone would want a pet, but it’s futile then too. She ends up at Hermes’ bar, where Orpheus is wiping tables and to her surprise, the little thing is bouncing around underfoot with soft yaps. Is it bigger? She’s not sure, but she suddenly notices that it looks bigger than yesterday. She’s just tired, she decides, and sits at the end of the bar. Immediately the dog settles near her feet and doesn’t move the rest of the night until Orpheus’ shift is over and the three return home. She tries for two days to find him a home, but no one wants another mouth to feed. Meanwhile Eurydice is just trying not to fall more in love with him. He’s definitely a bit bigger and she chalks it up to decent food, which Hermes had offered. She doesn’t know why he has dog-acceptable food, and doesn’t ask. He just shoots her new friend an amused look as the dog chows down on a bowl in the corner.  “Special one, that one. Might be like fate he found you.” Hermes remarks almost mysteriously in that infuriating way that makes Eurydice want to punch that stupid grin off his face. She says such, he laughs, and she and her new friend are left alone once more. By the end of the week, Orpheus points out they should name him while they’re waiting for someone to adopt him. They can’t just keep calling him ‘the dog’. Eurydice hasn’t ever been good with that kind of thing, and they toss ideas back and forth, but none seem right. Meanwhile it’s getting warmer and warmer outside as more of the spring settles in.  Persephone arrives on the train two days later, dragging in warm winds and a bright smile. The dog (which is still unnamed) trails after Eurydice and Orpheus out to the platform to greet her, and the goddess gives a delightful look. “There you are!”

Eurydice thinks she might be talking to her and Orpheus but no, it’s the dog. It circles her legs, yips, before trotting happily back over to Eurydice’s feet and sitting down. A declaration if she’d ever heard one. Persephone laughs.  “Oh, it damned well figures --- he’s yours now, songbird. Now, let’s grab a drink and celebrate spring.” Turns out the dog is not just a dog - Cerberus has descendants (which is something so full of everything she doesn’t feel like unpacking it) and the little creature from the fields is one, who had somehow escaped the boundaries of the underworld. A bit like she and Orpheus, if she’s honest. She loves him more. She thinks it will want to go back to the underworld where it belongs, but the literal hell hound barely leaves her side. Sits with her at home, at the bar, goes out foraging in the woods and fields, and still continues to grow that spring. She loves him more and more, but she still hasn’t decided whether she and Orpheus can afford to keep him. Not with winter. Another mouth? Spring goes. Summer goes. Lady Persephone keeps her promises of better harvests and she thinks it won’t be too bad. Eurydice and Orpheus see her off into her husband’s arms. The dog sits on the platform with them and watches the train go. It’s nearly up to Eurydice’s hip in size and thankfully, has shown signs of slowing down in growth. She reaches out to scratch him behind the ears and smiles; the dog practically radiates warmth. A literal furnance. She thinks she and Orpheus might survive the winter if they just curl up to the thing. 

At home, they find Persephone has left them provisions. Gifts, with just a single carnation as her calling card. It thrives all winter. 

It’s Orpheus who suggests the name one late night when they’re both curled in bed and the dog has lain across their legs as if to pin them down. As if to keep them warm. As if to protect them. She wonders if Lady Persephone and her husband have sent the dog on purpose now; she reminds herself to ask. Either way, while a hell-hound is not what she had in mind as a girl, she’s grateful for it now.

Eurydice smiles and agrees at Orpheus’ suggestion of a name. Argos. 

And hopefully, Eurydice thinks, he will never grow two more heads like his father. Five mouths to feed is worse than three.

[rowdysakura]

title: I don’t know much (but I think the future’s looking brighter)

rating: g

part: 1/?

Zhe dips a wing, tail twisting and tail fins flaring in accordance. The tight, spiraling turn sends the early light of day rippling across zhir golden scales in erratic, fantastical patterns. Zhe continues to spiral until finally breaking cloud cover. Beneath zhir and the clouds lies the ocean. It’s rippling expanse dotted with dark, rocky spires and black stone plateaus hosting a rainbow plethora of zhir fellow dragons sunbathing. Several of the colorful heads rose up upon noticing zhir, bugling a greeting as well as stretching out their thought-touches to briefly brush across zhirs.

One Who Leaps from Cloud to Sky

A answering trill echoes from Sky’s throat, zhir thought-touch responding in kind. Zhe makes a few more loops about the gathering place. Sharp, slit-pupiled eyes scrape over the oceanscape, searching but not finding. None of zhir fellows seems distressed, except for a couple of brilliantly red hatchlings squeaking imperiously at one another. Yet, the feeling of unease which has brought Sky down refuses to abate.

The biggest of zhir Clan, a dully colored cerulean one, raises je’s great head. When je reaches out jer thought-touch to Sky’s with wispy, questioning tendrils, Sky reaches back. The dull buzz that comes from being around so many at once fades to the background as the two tie their thought-touches together. It takes only a moment, the two fitting themselves together with practiced ease—Sky is falling up, up, up, into the sky. Zhe is a drop in the ocean, swallowed up, pulled under in the vastness that is the je that makes up they, a ripple a bubble a gnat inconsequential—then zhe is zhe and je is je again. Separate but not apart.

Sky gives zhirself a mental shake, zhe will never get used to the sensations that came from first contact with Speaker, sparking amusement like faint rustling across the larger dragon’s thoughts. The elder dragon’s presence reminds Sky of the forests like oceans. Trees growing more gnarled, thicker, and tall like mountains until they block out even the barest hint of sun. Deep, quiet, slow, and unbearably vast.

And so very, very easy to get lost in.

Bright horizons—Speaker of Many Tongues—question? asks Sky.

Bright horizons—One Who Leaps from Cloud to Sky, Speaker murmurs in turn, thoughts dripping sedately into Sky’s. Buzz like scale mites—storm on horizon?

Feel uncertain—itchy as salt under scales, answers Sky, adding a turnabout questioning note to the end.

Speaker brushes over Sky’s nervous prickles with waves of calm.

See no harm—see no danger, assures Speaker.

Sky hums, thoughts buzzing with anxious doubt.

The hum echoes outside Sky’s head as the air abruptly fills with the weight of power. Of old, old magic. It’s covers everything, encompassing all of the Clan like warm sand. Sky feels full to bursting as home/protect/heart/safe wraps around zhir.

No harm comes, Speaker declares evenly, the magic lifting as je did.

There’s a knife edge glint to it, though. Fleeting but heavy with dangerous promise. Harm could come, that edge says, wrapped in all the certainty a millennia old dragon carries. And if it did, Speaker would erase it from existence.

One Who Leaps from Cloud to Sky believes Speaker of Many Tongues unconditionally.

Comforted, Sky allows zhirself to release the anxious rippling of zhir thoughts. Tension leeches from zhir as zhe pushes zhir thought-touch closer to Speaker’s. Close enough to feel the unwavering calm, let it wash away zhir remaining nerves, but not so close as to get lost in je again.

Thankful, says Sky, sincerity shining through their thought-touches like sun rays. Taking leave to fly—warm winds under wings—Speaker of Many Tongues.

Warm winds under wings—One Who Leaps from Cloud to Sky, replies Speaker.

There’s a hint of sleepiness to jers thoughts, that sags and seeps into Sky before they disentangle thought-touches. Sky shakes it off, neatly picking out little bits of thought-touch leftover from Speaker. Then, with three great flaps to regain the height zhe’d lost while coasting, zhe flew.

Speaker of Many Tongues has soothed Sky’s but that little nugget of something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong still wriggles under zir sternum like a fat maggot. Some days, Speaker manages to silence that maggot. Some days, like now, je doesn’t, leaving a starved yet still malevolent parasite that would drive Sky’s mind in circles until zhe is right back where zhe started. On days like these, there’s not much zhe can do but tire zhirself out and hope tomorrow’s better.

Once alone with sea and sky, no thought-touches to be felt, Sky let’s loose. Twists, turns, barrel rolls; dead stops, climbs and drops; slow spirals, hovers and lazy patterns interspersed with straightforward runs of pure speed. On and on zhe goes, the exhilaration of zhir freedom and the increasing burn of well used muscle pushing back and back at the heavy thing in zhir chest. Lost in losing zhirself, Sky misses the starburst of excited thought-touch only to be wrenched back into the world by a nip at zhir wingtip.

Zhe snaps—literally—at the offender, zhir thought-touch spiking and spitting at the other’s in a way spoke volumes more than any roar.

The other’s thought-touch, that of a small dusk-orange welp, skitters away. The tiny thing lets out the most indignant yip.

Sky does roar, then. A thundering bellow that vibrates through the youngling’s chest as it physically skitters away. It glides along in silence several wingspans away, properly chastised, before edging ever warily closer. But by bit, until it’s invading zhir space once more. Its thought-touch needling insistently at Sky’s.

Sky lets out a whuff of irritation. Zhe dives abruptly towards the water, stopping when zhir claws skim the surface. The small one follows, clumsily but without pause, zipping under zir. Sky rumbles warningly and it zips out again, yapping pointedly. It’s thought-touch stretching and poking once more at Sky. Shaking zhir ridged head, Sky wonders who claims this little one and why they hadn’t taught it any manners.

A put upon sigh, Sky lets the young dragon’s thought-touch collide with zhir’s. Excitement crashes into Sky like battering ram, followed by so much blinding awe it nearly makes Sky dizzy. Their thought-touch is an incoherent mess. Images, thoughts, words, and emotions flinging by, unrecognizeable.

Another whuff and Sky sets to work on setting it right. Pushing, pulling, until everything slots into place putting it into sharp focus.

Bright Eyes—see flying—want flying! she shrieks, gleeful. Then, much more quietly, Flying together—teach—please?

Ah, the newest hatched of Still Waters Run Deep, Sky has heard of her—she’s unfortunately infamous for her clumsy mishaps. Her heart has always been in the right place, though, and she never lets her failures keep her down. It’s an admirable sort of determination.

Hm.

Sky cranes zhir long neck to look at Bright Eyes. Wide, blue eyes return zhir searching gaze. Eager. Challenging, even.

The golden dragon snorts. Peppered sparks of amusement flickering in their thought-touch. It brings up an angry lash of embarrassment from Bright Eyes. Sky taps her on the head with a wingtip.

Peace, Sky says, amusement still curling through zhir. Prove worthy—follow—keep as shadow.

With that One Who Leaps from Cloud to Sky banks sharply to the left, Bright Eyes letting out a surprised trill behind zhir before flapping doggedly after.

It’s been a long time since zhe has had a winglet, Sky thinks. Perhaps, it’s time for one again.

—

misc dragon things:

default pronoun for dragons is it/it’s. Bright Eyes pronouns change after they connect thought-touches bc those are her pronouns but Sky couldn’t know until they connected, hence the it beforehand.

winglets are younger dragons taken under an older dragon’s wing (lol). it’s sort of like an apprenticeship. dragons are actually raised communally, by three to five adult dragons usually, but sometimes the babies end up having a talent or interest their parents can’t help with. so, another adult will take them as a winglet to hell develop that skill. mentors are somewhat responsible for the care and well being of their winglets but not to the degree of the parents.

Clan is a group of dragons. not necessarily related by blood but they live together consistently and raise their dragonets together n such. Clans can b enormous or small depending on food/resources/space. some put names to their clan and some don’t. Cloud to Sky and Bright Eyes Clan is fairly large n has about 150-200 dragons at any time

Speaker of Many Tongues is an ancient fucking dragon lmao most dragons don’t live that long n this sort of makes jir the de facto leader but there’s no real leader of the clan (for this one at least). Je’s also part of the reason why the clan is so large, few dragons want to fuck with an ancient least of all an ancient’s clan.

Bright Eyes is a v generic baby dragon name lmfao, it’ll probs change over time bc that’s how dragons do n she’s just a baby! she growing! she don’t know whomst the fuck she is

dragons don’t use pronouns like you, I, we, they (referring to a group not individual pronoun) etc bc their thoughts are connected n it’s implicit in the thoughts (which I rly wanted to do more the whole telepathy thing but alas) what/who’s being referred to. it makes dialogue a bitch but I thought it was a fun challenge.