Between the Roots and Branches [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

Don't worry, dreamers of Manhattan. There will be no humiliating episodes of sudden-onset-clumsiness tonight - at least, nothing more severe than what you might experience naturally. Your physical and mental faculties will be left perfectly intact. What a treat! And what luck, because if you do lose your footing, it's a long way down to the forest floor.

But hey, who wants to be on the boring old ground when there are so many wonderful treehouses to explore? There are dozens of them spread throughout the surrounding forest, connected by a series of bridges and catwalks (some, admittedly, a bit more stable than others). It's easy to forget - or fail to notice - that there really is no easy or conventional way down to the ground when you're surrounded by such splendor.

The houses' styles range from charming and rustic to modern and sleek, with many falling somewhere in between. There are viewing platforms for bird-watching or simply taking in the scenery (trees, mostly, though if you venture high enough, you'll be treated the sight of the forest canopy stretched across a valley far below). But the insides of the treehouses are comfortably furnished to varying degrees as well, so there's no need to immerse yourself in nature if you'd really rather not. Some are complete houses in their own right, with all the amenities of a Manhattan apartment and then some.

Go for a climb, or kick back and relax. The only enemies you'll find here are other dreamers... and, potentially, gravity.

Comments

[wildmage_daine]

... Well, that was certainly a reaction. Daine perches opposite the horned fellow, baffled by his apparent fear. She's wary, too, because she knows he's fast and she knows that frightened folk sometimes attack just out of panic (though he's hardly cornered here, so he could just run). She folds her wings politely, though she's ready to launch herself back into the air if he tries to lash out at her.

I'm not going to hurt you, she offers after a moment. I only meant to say hello.

[dashkin]

He doesn't know what's happening here or why. Sure it's not going to hurt him. Like he believes that. He's clever enough to know when something funny is going on.

Bitey stares at it, long and hard, stone-still. Not a sound.

Then he springs for it, furred face gapping into a low, many-toothed wordless cry.

[wildmage_daine]

Daine had been braced for this, and she drops off the branch like a tiny, feathered missile, a few wingbeats and gravity carrying her out of immediate danger. She's followed by a rather vicious crashing sound and a few falling bits of bark. Whatever he is, he seems too much a two-legger for her magic to work on him, but her disapproval is evident enough in her tone.

Odd's bobs! she scolds as she weaves through the branches. What are you fussing about?! She's not even in one of her big shapes. If anything, she's downright tiny.

[dashkin]

He soars right over it - fast little thing. Fast little feathery thing. He pivots immediately and recovers, hooves spraying up chips and scrapes of bark.

It's still talking. It doesn't use words. Bitey bares his wide pointed teeth, spits out a menacing hiss-noise. No words for the feather-thing. Instead he swings on after it, a furred streak. He'll catch it, toss it somewhere. Play some trick.

Get back here, little feather-thing.

[wildmage_daine]

Oh, for--this is stupid, and whatever concern she might have felt for the creature is giving way to annoyance. She's given him no reason to pursue her like this, and while she's confident she could lose him, what would happen to the next poor dreamer who had the audacity to greet him? He can't be allowed to just attack folk willy-nilly.

Daine puts on an extra burst of speed, buying herself the time and distance she needs as she keeps an eye out for a good, sturdy branch. Spying one, she swoops in for a landing and shifts. She's no longer a little feathery thing; now she's a big furred thing, facing him down with teeth bared and a heavy paw outstretched.

STOP! she shouts, punctuating the order with a roar.

[dashkin]

He darts and swoops neatly around, all wild and ready to cut it off when

it isn't feathered anymore.

Bitey knows roars. Bitey knows roars. That's all the Morrugs do, the big stupid lumbering things, is roar roar roar at him like that'll ever drive him off. This thing isn't a Morrug, whatever it is. It's big and furred and stripey, and the roar might send him arcing over the treetops to land with a clatter some distance away, but it doesn't scare him off. Not completely.

Nothing can catch him. Not even furry stripey things.

Wicked-quick, Bitey tears a long wet strip of moss from the nearest tree and balls it up into a wet messy bundle, then flings it at the thing's nose with an experimental flick of his wrist.

[wildmage_daine]

Daine twitches her paw sideways, not swatting the bundle of moss out of the air, but allowing it to bounce off of her paw pads instead of off her face. I don't know what your problem is, she says sourly, still showing her teeth, since he seems to at least have a begrudging wariness of her now that she's large enough to defend herself. If he just talked to her, maybe she could help. She doesn't make that offer, though, because she can guess how it'd be received.

Maybe he'll respond better to rudeness.

Too stupid to talk, or just choosing not to?

[dashkin]

Baring his teeth in a great wide grin, Bitey sniggers, harsh and loud, little knobby shoulders shaking with cruel mirth. He watches it with his head cocked. It looks slow. Slower than him. He's faster than anything.

He shoots up into the branches above the stripey thing's head, showering it with bark and twigs.