A week at least had passed since his arrival in that old threshold forest.

- Time well spent all things considered ay Tilda? -

Sauntering south at a great rate of knots, Banjo found himself following a coastline beyond which murky black ocean seemed to lash and froth forever. Dusk was falling quickly across his path (which wasn’t really a path at all, it was a direction), but the buck remained unwavering in his advance - like his father’s kind, sun-up and sun-down were the most favoured times to be out and about. Skilled green eyes expanded beneath a rim of lush, long lashes as his long face turned towards that indefinite span of water.

- D’you remember when the old man took us to the beach? You were very young still. The yolk was still wet behind your ears, haha, just fresh outta the pouch. Mum’d told us not to go far that day, she was an old worry wart and I reckon she’d never seen anything so wonderful. A homebody, yeah, that’s what she was. Not like Dad. The trip was a bloody long one, but it paid dividends - I still remember the salty air, the sour taste of that freezing water. I’d give anything to have you ‘ere right now… -

Nostrils flared as the curious creature sucked loudly a long breath - it did smell exactly the same. In the fading light, he could see the rampage of white horses rushing ashore, spewing down across the sand at his feet before melting away into nothing. Nothing but wet slush with a bothersome tendency to cling to his thin, sleek fur, dry, and irritate the sensitive skin beneath. The beach was not the most comfortable place for a kangaroo to navigate.

Long claws grazed the sand as he traipsed still further along the line of water, even as he tried to lift them clear. So too did he find himself sinking whenever he deviated towards the drier half, a little closer to the tree line. Perhaps it was time to turn back and find more solid ground, loam - preferably with a bite to eat! Just as the thought entered his head, the vague silhouette of another emerged a small way ahead and Banjo paused to trace the smooth outline (no wings, no horn). He barely noticed the smaller figure travelling alongside.

“G’DAY!” he called out unceremoniously, loudly, so much so that seagulls settling down in boughs nearby returned a wave of raucous condemnation.

---

Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck

To his unbridled delight, the stranger responded by turning the dim shape of a skull towards him. That was a good start, and for the time being Banjo screwed a tight lid down on the overwhelming desire to barrel ahead and make friends. There were only a few who he had thus far had the pleasure of meeting in this strange new world, but those who had thankfully filled his insatiable need for socialisation had appeared to be all froth and no beer. They had greeted him with unmistakable reserve, perhaps shyness - who knew! In contrast, he was not backwards in coming forward, as were they all out back of beyond. Still, the folk around the joint here were receptive and friendly enough.

They were all he had after all.

As the gulls’s grating cacophony dulled finally beneath the present, constant thrash of waves falling ashore, the other began their approach, striding through water with what appeared to be effortlessness - certainly a thing that a creative blend of creatures like he, could seldom achieve. Pale lips drew back against pearly teeth into a hearty (if not somewhat cheesy) grin, and he too slipped slowly forward through the soggy sand to meet them halfway - her it soon became apparent. The half light fingered the restless tendrils of her soft, silvery mane as the constant stream of coastal wind swept by, a rippling frame around a delicate moon-white face; she was lovely indeed, classic and well without the array of fancy adornments he had come to expect of this place, but she hardly looked plain.

Banjo paused the same moment as she, smiling still, though the shadows beneath his weathered cork-hat grew deeper across his slim features, perhaps distorting the expression intended. He wore upon his shoulder no chip however, and let no form of rigidness remain throughout his peculiar posture as they met face to face (distance enough for two strangers to feel some ease). A cunning fringe swept like a bride’s veil across the eyes he sought to find so desperately, so instead his own mossy gaze settled upon the curve of her sooty grey lips as they returned polite greeting.  

“Name’s Banj,” the buck announced quickly, confidently, unaware of the troubles looming beneath the figure of  listening white ears. Even if there’d been trace of woe about her to clue him up, it was unlikely that his mood would have diluted. He was distracted as it were by the second name the sheila had offered, Hikari, as though there should have been another by her side. Banjo’s crooked brow danced to either side of her lean (though charmingly and proportionately curved) frame. He was almost certain she had been wading alone… He remembered suddenly the smaller shape, the seemingly insignificant animal which had been 'nearby'. Coincidence?

- Bugger me Tilda, she talkin’ bout the wolf pup? -

He found it there, with her, and snorted softly, curiously at the notion that she might have a pet. Certainly there had been no such thing in the bush. “G’day there tiger…” he offered with a dipped chin, half expecting the little dog to return tongue that made sense. Stranger things had happened recently!

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Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck

The larrikin buck’s gregarious smile only widened as the little pup acknowledged him with a common enough yap and swing of her… wait, five hairy tails…? “Woah there little ankle biter, well endowed at the back end, aren’t ya!” As the tails waggled about in the sour wind, Banjo quickly counted them again to be certain. One, two, three, four, “you little ripper, there are five! How’d that luck come about?” It was a rhetorical question - like many of the comments he made, thoughts turned too quickly to sound. Mind and eyes turned towards the pale Brisa who had kindly translated the canine’s greeting with a laugh as mild as the fingernail moon above. It was a lovely sound regardless, and he chuckled easily after, enjoying the good-nature she offered.

Though curious about the (unnatural, unusual) theory of the girl’s, that she could communicate for the smaller animal, the buck held his tongue - who was he to judge her! There had been another too, a bonza bloke back at the beginning who he had taken an instant liking to. That guy’d had similar ideas with a few dwarf-looking deer. Perhaps all in this wacky world were bound by the same spell? They all seemed a little crazy… Banjo chuckled again for good measure, and shrugged his burly shoulders.

Conversation came easily to the self-labeled ‘horsaroo’. He brought little expectation to the table and still less in the way of seriousness. Folk were all too stern and stale in this day and age, consumed by the weight of life - but everyone’s time on earth was bloody short, they needed to remember that.

Brisa had asked about his being there on the beach, and Banjo turned his narrow face to glance briefly back the way he had come. The dark outline of driftwood lay some distance away (it had caused him to trip earlier, pesky thing) and he had half a mind to retrieve it for the little pet. Dogs liked to play fetch right? “The sound of the sea reminded me of ‘ome…” he answered distractedly, deciding at last against the game and returning his gaze to meet that bothersome sweep of her forelock once more. Lips twitched as he considered next sweeping it clear of her eyes. “I was following the sun when I heard it ‘ere, roarin’ away. Couldn’t resist really!” Fore-claws treadled the soft sand beneath - it was waterlogged now, the tide it seemed was coming to swamp them.

“What brings you to this neck of the woods? You and Hikari I mean,” he added quickly, shooting a playful wink by the small furry creature.

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Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck
@Brisa

Oversized ears had tipped forward to regard Brisa’s small explanation of the kitsune - he smiled warmly, genuinely, glad the story made sense to one of them. The creature was indeed some part of a fox, he agreed, and for the time being was content enough to run with her story - horses with wings and others with pets… and why not? Banjo’s identity was no less ludicrous. It was exciting to find a wonderland so strange, so similar to he. In ‘the bush’ there were dingoes and devils (the latter of which seemed canine, but in truth was the personification of its evil namesake), both four legged, sharp-toothed, single tailed predators; plain things with common features. He said nothing more about it however, and offered Hikari a friendly, soft snort when he noticed she’d inched a little nearer.

The pretty sheila went on to explain the reason for her evening swim and the buck nodded quietly while he listened. “Ah yes,” he sighed humbly, turning his shoulders first towards the fading glow on the horizon, and hen his length. The waves roared and crashed rowdily some distance away indicating that perhaps a sandbank loomed not far beneath - or a reef! How lovely. “Puts on a beaut show ay?” Though pretty, the colours which had dressed the heavens weren’t nearly as dramatic as the burning end to days in the outback; both land and sky ignited there, so that one really couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. That he would’ve loved to show this pretty lady if that sorta stuff was her thing. Unhurriedly the horsaroo returned.

Brisa and Tilda had that appreciation in common.

Banjo wasn’t about to pry into the thoughts which she’d fled, but a sliver of concern did very briefly mar his cheerful expression - there, lingering in darkness beneath the swing of corks suspended around his face. The mind could be a dangerous weapon, he knew well; it was not immune to disease or corruption, and given half a chance it held the power to deal devastating wounds. She looked well enough however as his discerning eye grazed her surface (either that or the dusk concealed her well), so it never entered his head to ask.

“Hmm,” he pondered her query aloud, thinking back to the meeting in the Threshold. Banjo didn’t particularly understand the concept of ‘Helovian’ kingdoms, factions or the outcasts in-between. Where he had come from, there were some creatures more adapted to desert dwelling (his old man), others to the bush (like his Mum) and some who were just perfectly built for life in the air - actually, avians exclusively, none of this horse-bird blend. Kanga-pons were one thing… the other was too anatomically puzzling to even tempt his consideration! Whats more, all species lived in harmony back home, (clearly), fulfilling their role as naturally as could be in that big old circle of life.

The wanderer answered finally, “haven’t really set my roots down yet, figured I’d just backpack ‘round and get to know the joint first up.” He thought of the feathered gal he’d met previously in the forest - everyone had one of these homes it seemed. “How ‘bout you two?”Banjo asked, not imagining much more than a roaming herd like his Mum’s - perhaps they all had cute little Hikari’s running ‘round their hooves. The notion was more than entertaining! “Maybe you guys could shed some light on the best tucker spots? Somewhere grouse to bog down in the grog?”

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Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck
@Brisa

In the bush, ‘down under’, life was about as simple and laid back as it could possibly be. Creatures held no particular hierarchy - certainly nothing more significant than the kind of mindless squabbling ravens did over a part rotten dead thing, or dingos asserting over-inflated egos by way of snapping at one another. Nay, existence was just that, effortlessness and the freedom to come and go just exactly as one saw fit. In the case of Banjo’s old man, that liberty took casual and fun-loving to the awkward next level. In short, that was precisely how the ‘horsaroo’ came to be (as well as his younger sister Matilda), and the skew-built jack had to some degree adopted that temperament from his Dad. Thought of structure, war, rulers and peons simply wasn’t a speck in his mind.

When Brisa mentioned the Hidden Falls, more so a herd beneath that label, Banjo was intrigued - enough to warrant a noticeable twitch in the hollow of his bony brow (should that hat have been missing anyway). Interesting. Folk did live in herds, hidden away from the ignorant fumble of newcomers like himself. He couldn’t help but shift a curious glance behind the pretty mare, then to his left, but the sombre lighting didn’t grant much opportunity for investigation. “Blimey, ay? Would never’v guessed that. Y’know Breez,” again his lips drew clear of pale, blunt teeth into a grin… “Reckon I missioned across half the country this past week. Haven’t seen anyone but you, is that right? Place stinks like there should be a bloody plague of folks swanning about… Nup, nadda, nothing! ”

It didn’t matter really - Ashamin had suggested he hang about that first forest and chat up randoms for a bit; that implied it was quite the posse. Suited Banjo to a ’T’ really, though he had a wanderer’s heart. In hindsight he should’ve just scratched those itchy feet on a dumb log and stayed home.

“Yeah, nah not opposed at all! Roughin’ its just my thing.” He winked quickly, appreciating the sudden humour she offered, and took the opportunity to step forward (not within her personal space mind you), and aimed a gentle nuzzle towards the fuzzy spot between Hikari’s cute triangle ears. “What about you? You up for some camping fun?” Banjo had a few good yarns to spin - all they needed was a solid storm to spark a fire, skip the rain, and some sweet as bush berries on sticks to roast. Stars were breaking out like a rash above them instead... “Promise not to stab ya while you sleep,” perhaps not the best joke to win friends, but hopefully the laughter trailing would ease any concern such a statement might have raised.

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Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck
@Brisa

There was some small part of him that was bloody glad none of the ‘many others’ or herds mentioned had discovered he and Brisa there on the beach that evening - he considered it with a complacent smirk, dipping dry lips into the lapping, salty sea before it dissolved away into the sand. The water was sour to taste, provoking a small grimace through russet features, but it soon faded as his head again lifted. Quite contrary, it turned out she was rather sweet - quiet and shy at first it seemed, but a fun box underneath just waiting to be unwrapped!

They’d have a ball together if they just got a wriggle on and beat the sun to this secret grove; the enthusiastic buck was keen to see these tricks of hers too, especially seeing she was without any shock of feathers or face-spikes, anything that might betray a more unorthodox side. Not that he expected such a character as Brisa - or anyone else, to be boring, naturally. “Full of surprises eh?” he teased without trace of maliciousness. Banjo scoffed, goading that lovely smile to hold upon her dim ashen lips.  

“Rightyo then, lead the way girlie - before it gets too dark.” Slyly he added, “where I’m from, bunyips and drop-bears wake with the moon!” Scary thought if you were a child down under…

And by lead the way, he actually meant point the way.

The wacky jack lifted one roo-paw from the incoming surf and then the other - much like a kitten crossing his first frosty lawn, slipping and sliding a little as sodden sand turned quickly into soft and dry. He could only assume their destination lay not out there (he glanced away to sea one final time, noting the dark purple horizon), in the middle of the in that murky, hungry deathtrap. So Banjo humped his way from the shoreline to where the first of many tall palms swayed in the wind, ribbon leaves whipping and snapping loudly against the constant, dull roar.

As he merged beneath the skirting forest, he found still greater darkness and paused to check the progress of his friend - the well-meaning, considerate creature was hardly about to leap off into the boondocks without her. “Want to tell us more about these falls of yours?” The thought of walking in silence was about as unattractive as a dropped pie, and if she preferred to keep a lid on her private life, Banjo was more than happy to talk her ear off.

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Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck
@Brisa - Did you want to reply next in Secret Grove? Buaha