Ickle Meatships!

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

Hopefully no one sues me for semi-stealing the SLEEP meme format but!



ICKLE!

Think about or think back on the childhood days/younger days of your character (or your character now if they already are kids). There's a huge playroom with a mountain of toys....

Have fun, Kids! And no fightings!

Comments

[not_the_philistine]

There's no fighting yet, but if any of these other kids so much as looks at his pillow fort wrong -

- but something's wrong. Goliath has a fort, but he's in it all alone with nobody to keep safe in it. This won't do. He scans the room, looking for friends and allies to let in.

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

::Not too far off from Fort Pillow, there's a little Renne. He's quietly trying to salvage what used to be a plushie made to look like an eighteenth century British-Navy man. It's now a shambles of cloth and fluff but he's still trying, feverishly trying, to figure out how to put it back together.
And don't tell him but tears stream like mad down his face::

[not_the_philistine]

This! This is another scenario that Will Not Do. Goliath has no rookery brothers and sisters to organize into a scouting party, and so after a brief debate about leaving the fort unguarded . . . he strikes out on his own, determined to return quickly and prepared to roust whatever miscreants try to take over his fort while he's off gathering friends.

"Friend, you are crying. Who has made you cry?"

And by extension, caused him to have to leave his fort unguarded? Oh, the young gargoyle is mad at somebody, he just doesn't know who yet.

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

::That...first earns a twitch of the big ears and a bit of a cyan blush. Trying not to whimper and trying to put on a brave face, the oddity chirrups and holds the remains of his plushie.
To him, the destroying of the plushie is the destroying of someone::

Eeee...'Chee.

[not_the_philistine]

The young gargoyle, like the rest of his rookery brothers and sisters, does not put much stock in made things. The life of a gargoyle is one of survival and war, fighting to defend territory and clan and hunting grounds on which to feed, and toys are fragile things in a life such as theirs - but Renne is not a gargoyle, and Renne's toy is important to him, special, a thing to be protected and treasured, and somebody has destroyed it and that is not right.

The young gargoyle - even at this age, he couldn't be called 'little -' inhales and puffs out his chest with indignation. "Who did this? Show me."

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

Eeee...

::'Show'. Chirping sadly, the oddity's big eyes only blink, then stay closed. However, from his memory, he allows out what he does know. The sound of the voice. It's not exactly a pleasant voice and the Renne has no idea what could be planned. All he knows is, 'Chee isn't in one piece.::

'Chee. Ahn'Chee.

[not_the_philistine]

Oh. Yes. And the young gargoyle wonders - how to find someone who has committed a wrong, when it cannot be known what they look like?

He has learned about this, a little bit, from the elders - solving the problem of who committed a crime when nobody saw them, either because their backs were turned or the crime was committed in secret. Scent is a good marker, if one knows the scene of the crime. He bends down to sniff the evidence - strong odor of Renne, and something else, something dry and dusty and a little like cinnamon and somehow, at the edge, unpleasant.

"Come. I smell them." He picks the Renne up, fragments of doll and all, and scents the air, following the trail with his friend tucked under-arm.

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

Eeee?

::He's not hard to pick up, maybe four pounds. If that. Clinging to the remnants of his plushie, the oddity...kind of burrows into wee!Goliath's hold, as if seeking strength. Or protection. Or maybe just...a not-alone-time::

[not_the_philistine]

Oh, gargoyles are very good for that. In a gargoyle clan, one need not fear loneliness, and the larger child's hold is gentle, careful of the talons and not too reserved a little warrior to give a sad friend a hug.

"Don't cry now." His words are matter-of-fact, but there is a note of comfort to them, of stability and conviction that Things Will Be Made Right. "Humans are good at fixing things. After we find the person who broke your toy and make them apologize, we will find a human who is good at fixing broken human things and get them to fix it for you."

He will fix this, even if it is by only finding other people well-suited to repairing broken toys.

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

Eeee...

::At first, he's blushing bashfully. However, the word 'human' sends a tremble of fear down his back. He and Humans (most of them) are not exactly on friendly standing. Hence the tremble, then the whimper and the blue face burying in a Gargoyle arm::

Hoomin. No-Hoomin.

[not_the_philistine]

"No?"

The young gargoyle looks at his small friend with surprise.

"But your toy is a human toy. Gargoyles do not fix these things, and there are none here to ask."

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

Hoo-min. Hur.

::Whimper. Don't mind him, he's still in the early stages of learning that not all Humans are out to kill you::

[not_the_philistine]

"Humans are not all bad."

Here he smiles, confident in his conviction. He has only recently decided on it, but decided he has - and permanently.

"They don't understand us. So they are afraid of us. But if they come to understand us, they will learn that we are not to be feared, and then we will all be friends."

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

Eee?

::Sniffle. Ear-twitch::

Noh-hurrr? Ffffen?

::'Friend'. Even if he butchers the word all to hell, he says it as if it's the most sacred thing since Buddha reaching Nirvana. Thus, the beginnings of a snuffling...and a nuzzle::

[not_the_philistine]

The young gargoyle carefully scritches the crown of the small creature's head with his talons. Fortunately, they are not razor-sharp. Years of digging in for purchase on solid stone have taken care of that.

"You will come with me to my castle after this." Clearly, a gargoyles' castle is exactly where a little friend like this needs to be. "You can stay there, and I will protect you, and you may play in peace." He pauses before adding, "My castle is only pillows, but our leader says -" here he pauses for emphasis - "'A gargoyle can no more stop protecting the castle than breathing the air,' and so I have made one, and I protect it."

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

::The skritching earns several things. First, purring. Then nuzzling and maybe a bit of a lick. Upon hearing the word 'protect', the oddity nods, snuffles and offers a tiny smile::

Peck. Peck.

::Every time he butchers the word, one hand/paw moves up to kind of almost-poke at the not-quite-mini-Goliath. He's tryin' to say he'll help protect...Tryin'::

[not_the_philistine]

Goliath considers the Renne.

"Even the smallest gargoyle learns to become a great warrior. It is our Way. Perhaps when I find my clan again, they will adopt you and teach you the Gargoyle Way."

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

::Excuse him while he gasps in utter wonder. Yep, complete with the twitching ears and the big eyes::

Ooooo!

[not_the_philistine]

He murmurs his assent, scenting the air for his little friend's tormentor.

"Where is your clan? Missing, like mine?"

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

Eee.. Ink.

::There's really no nice way to answer that. Missing? Ah, no... He just shakes his head. But, a few minutes later, the oddity seems to have a thought. Just...articulation::

Eee! Bee. Iff.

::Don't kill him for butchering you name, please?::

[not_the_philistine]

At this present stage in Goliath's development, actually, he does not have a name, so he really can't get very uppity about anyone saying it wrong.

"Bee is your clan." A pause, as he thinks - "Oh. Your kind take names. Gargoyles do not, so I do not have one, but you may tell me yours if you wish."

Said with pride, because the Gargoyle Way is so simple. When there are no names, everybody is 'friend.'

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

::No names... The concept terrifies him and it shows in his steadily-paling face. And the expression of abject terror in his useless eyes. Nononono...Names...mean existence. Or so he was taught.
Chittering, the beastie clings as if to reassure that the Gargoyle does indeed exist.::

Eee?! Ow-noh? Ow-noh-ame?

::He must absolutely, must understand this. How does one live without a Name? How does one identify when one is signaled?::

[not_the_philistine]

The gargoyle gives his new friend a funny look. "No. No names. But humans have them. Neither way is so bad."

[bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com]

Ow? Ow...Say?

::A chitter of frustration then. Even at this stage, he knows his English sucks::

[not_the_philistine]

"How say? How say what?"

The gargoyle thinks carefully. His new friend's Scottish Gaelic English is iffy, but he understands plenty.

"We know who we are," he says, having determined that this is a question of identification. "I know who I am. We do not need names for that."