It was getting late, and there was no sign of the girls.
In the distance, the light from a fire was starting to be visible; Garish and needlessly large. He shook his head.
Mus' be 'at Linea girl.. At it 'gain... he muttered to himself absently. Either she was setting the world on fire, or she was over-reacting to the cold. Pro'lly both. he wryly chuckled.
The thought that if they were that cold, in the face of a teeny bit of frosty air, to need to start a bonfire crossed his mind. P'rolly 'ungry too I'd recon. The wry smile creased one side of his face in the form of a short lived smirk. He had just shoveled a fair stack of the things Mama's way; His ursine companion greedily snarfing them as fast as he could make them, only confiding a single thought at him when asked-- 'good'/'more' She had already eaten 4 adult size portions, and showed no sign of slacking. The amusing idea of entering her into a pancake eating competition crossed his mind, but he knew no sane competition judging panel would let her participate. The thought made him frown a bit, but he was still glad she seemed to interested in his cooking; Just, eating all the pancakes themselves was not polite nor appropriate. If the girls were that cold and miserable to try to make up for it with an absurd fire like that, they probably needed some pancakes as well, and holding out on them would not be sporting nor polite.
Hot on the heels of that thought, was another-- So far, without exception, every single thing he had hunted, picked, or cooked had been "politely rejected' by the elf girl. It kind of hurt his feelings, but the real unforgivable thing would be to just refuse to offer. Who knows, she might find something she actually likes, or be so far down the hunger slope that her sensibilities finally give way, and if he stopped offering, he'd be the one in the wrong for denying the chance.
Introspection gave way to realization he was making a tight lipped frown. Mama was showing no signs of slacking on her appetite for honeyed pancake-- her eyes sparkling at him in the waning light of the day.
'Hey there/Hello beautiful.' he confided to her, letting the connection form while she greedily snarfed another pancake from his hands.
'yes'/'what?'/'More pancakes?' was the response from the other side. He chuckled at her, and the amusement bled through the connection. "what's funny?/want more pancake
He did his best to create a concept she would understand-- Eating all the food and leaving none for the others would not be a nice thing, and that the two of them needed to keep the others on good terms-- mingled with a side thought that he DID enjoy seeing her this pleased with his cooking and so genuinely approving of it-- That he would happily make all she could eat, if he had the flour to do it with-- but also, sadly that he did not. In retrospect, it might have been a little too complicated for her, as her response was a mixture of irritation, "mine", and "You should get more when we get back." Not a single sign of comprehension about social niceties-- She did not care one iota about the others in the group; Just him, and it made her cranky that he was having any kind of thoughts about 'the other two.'
He huffed despite himself, while frying up the next cake-- Dark brown eyes glittering at him from a completely fixated furry face practically pushing the thoughts of "Mmmmm", "more", and a general sense of impatience about his cooking speed, mingled with wry satisfaction about 'her choice'. His cheeks colored a bit, taking in the subtext of the raw concepts and emotions she was practically drowning him in. It would be a lie to say it did not re-affirm his bond with her, or that he did not take a great deal of guilty pleasure from making her happy/meeting with her satisfaction-- It would be another lie, to say a good deal of his heart didn't want to just let this whole errand rot, just wander off-- Him and mama, and spend their days wandering the woods, stopping to cook and eat together, and let all the complicated things slide by the wayside. It was a very infectious, and guilty pleasure; It was hard to fight down, and quite frankly, Mama did not rightly comprehend why he was doing so-- which more than anything, was the source of her small, but growing irritation.
Love you/Do not want to make angry/know you don't want to share (with them). he tried, attempting diplomacy. Will come back and make more for you/glad you like it--- But they need food too/they bought the sausage a few days back/Not nice to not share at least a little/Only fair. he continued, before ending with the strong emotions this situation was causing him-- a blend of great satisfaction, joy and happiness at sharing a meal with her, but also alloyed with decorum, duty, obligation, and necessity.
She wrinkled her nose at him, blinked her eyes then turned her head toward the distant firelight. He could see she was snuffing in the air, trying to get a read on the going's on from where the two girls were, near the curtain wall, then turned back to him again.
One more, then go/Dont dawdle/hurry back/Want more/Dont hold out on me
He responded with amused understanding, and affirmation. He could almost swear the bear was jealous, as he drizzled the top of the latest cake with a thin zigzag of honey, before rolling it up and holding it out for his bear-friend. He leaned down, and pressed his forehead against hers, while she snarfed the cake from his outstretched hand. The notion of just how far his heartstrings were getting wrapped up by being with this old bear was both embarrassing and wonderful to him, and he just wanted to hug and nuzzle on her with all his heart, right then and there, to drive away those silly notions of jealousy she was harboring, but she really wouldn't understand such an outburst, even with the connection wide open. Human impulses were not easy to translate, then again, neither were bear impulses in retrospect. He didn't care. He loved her anyway. Instead, he gave her an affectionate rub behind her ear and made a happy murmur, before returning his attention to the pan.
Need to make some for them now he confided. Wry irritation, a touch of impatience, and a general 'hurry up then' was what he got back; She did not like being kept waiting, even when he hadn't even left yet.
Hurriedly, he poured, cooked, turned, then drizzled a stack of about 8 cakes before nuzzling Mama again, and thanking her for her patience; promising to make more for her when he got back (and that he would do what he could to make it up to her in the night, when it would be just them). She just snorted, and head butted him away and nose pointed toward the distant fire again. "Hurry back" was the predominant message.
Gathering up the fully loaded skillet, (along with a few jars of vine-water, and the rest of the uncooked food items he had brought-- as much as he loved her, he did not trust mama with unattended comestibles) his thoughts wandered to how... Possessive... Mama acted towards him. On the one hand, it was very reaffirming to be wanted so intensely; Desired and held dear like a treasured possession or treasure-- but on the other, it was putting stress on his ability to meaningfully interact with other humans. The solitary nature of bears was difficult to reconcile with the need for social interplay among humans. He hoped this would not turn into an argument; He hated having arguments with mama.
He silently cursed that he could not confront the problems running wild through these woods alone. This would be so much simpler, and go so much smoother if he was not having to play ambassador between the human and natural worlds, and engaging in 'human pageantry'. He huffed an irritated sigh. The thought that he could share that irritation with mama, and get the equivalent of a chuckle from her, crossed his mind. It was quickly snuffed out by the nagging realization that she would of course, insist that this is why he shouldn't bother with such wasted efforts, and just walk away from this mess and just live with her. The thought was painful, because of how seductive it was.
Human thoughts suck.
Pushing all those thoughts aside for later, he pushed on through the lengthening shadows toward the light of the distant fire.
...Bes' foot forward... he told himself under his breath while walking. Bes' foot forward.
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Topic: Mystville [Game Thread] (Read 120000 times)