Albrecht

The little shit is swimming - again - gliding along the surface of the shallow water with nothing but sheer bliss in his head, nose tilted up and above the water to keep his upper jaw and the tiny pits lining it dry while the rest of his body undulates back and forth to propel him forward. He weaves repeating patterns between and around the four pillars of his bondeds legs, occasionally dragging himself against one and humming some nonsensical reptilian happy song in their heads. “Come on Strom.” The stallion begs sighs, exasperation draining the words of any force. “We’ve been here for hours.” The complaint is valid and he's not even exaggerating this time. The pair have been wading for hours, the python silently, psychically wailing his displeasure every time the stallion begins to leave without him, which he’s attempted to do in desperation several times now only to return in frustration with pinned ears and stomping hooves. “What is wrong with you?"

The python stops then, looping his body around the stallions right foreleg - in consideration of his wounded left shoulder, though the snake is sure in his wordless thoughts that the grumpy old man won't acknowledge it - and begins working his way upward by grasping with one coil and pulling the others an inch at a time. The elder stands tolerant of his companions antics until the young constrictor begins rubbing his nose up and down against his dirty shoulder. “Cut it out." He chides, but the snake only increases his dramatism by dragging his entire head along the stallions shoulder blade, first one cheek and then the other.

Patience exhausted, the stallion shakes himself, dislodging his distracted companion. “God! You are so fucking WEIRD!" He bellows at the snake, ignoring the clang of indignity reverberating through their bond as his companion plummets back into the water, his tiny head breaching and spewing a few mucus-y bubbles before turning away. "Itchy." He tosses behind him through the bond, succinct and confident - and angry. The stallion blinks. “You're talking? You can talk now?" There's nothing but offended silence in answer. Pride, concern, and annoyance all swell within the stallions chest at once, but as always, his temper wins out. “You've been pantomiming all day when you can talk?! UUGH!"

The pythons anger slips, revealing mirth beneath. He is not sorry, but he is itchy and if his huffing, stomping bonded won't stay in the moisturizing relief of the water or humor his needs as a scratching post then he'll find something stationary to rub against instead. He peers out along the disorienting reflections on the water, clouded eyes struggling to make out any detail in the blobs of color all around him. He spots a greyish mass rising out of the waters level surface and heads toward it, envisioning a boulder or stumpy cypress tree, but the stallion behind him sees otherwise. He sees ears, mane, eyes. “Strom!" He calls, rushing up beside him, annoyance forgotten in a surge of instinctive protectiveness.



OOC // Strom is preparing for his first shed. @Syrena

Albrecht

The young python freezes as the tone of his bondeds voice washes over him, or he tries to, which turns out to be impossible for an animal lacking any air bladder or other means of remaining buoyant without movement. He begins to sink, head ducking below the surface of the water before his tube-like body jerks back into action, resurfacing and retreating to the safety of his bondeds shadow where he turns and encircles one long, knobby kneed foreleg. The stallion rolls his eyes, momentary surge of parental vigilance exhausted. "Only because you can't hear his nonsensical whirlpool of emotions." He grouches to the stranger, and as if on cue, his companion excitedly pushes a new thought into his head.

'Horse rock has scales!' He silently shouts, then more subdued, his excitement weakened by uncertainty, 'Like me?' "He likes your scales." The stallion sighs, futilely trying to shush this sudden outpouring of chatter between his ears. "I think I liked him better when he was non-verbal." The subject of his complaints ignores this, stretching and wriggling his slender body as far upward as his limited length will allow, staring forlornly up at the ridge of withers still well out of his reach. The stallions ears twitch and his face twists in annoyance, but his head turns, offering the flat surface of his skull as a platform, clearly a well rehearsed gesture the way the small python immediately arcs toward his outstretched muzzle, happily zig-zagging his way to the base of one backswept horn - a favorite resting spot.

"So what are you anyway?" His downturned mouth asks suddenly, shattering any illusions of tact or politeness the mare might have envisioned for the conversation. He doubts she has any actual relation to snakes - much to his companions disappointment - but Helovia is home to more than one brand of oddity. If all the peppermints in the world can condense into a living, breathing, freakishly jubilant stallion, who is he to say that horses - and fish or reptiles or whatever the fuck components make up this water color hybridization in front of him - can't combine into some sort of amphibious, chameleon skinned anomaly too?


OOC // @Syrena I'm sorry this took so long. I kept editing and rewriting and not being happy with the result. :P

Albrecht

"Yes." He answers simply, watching the mares attention shift in his direction at barely more than glacial speed. Her face is smooth and unreadable, though her returned question shows some semblance of personality under that stony exterior. "It's to provide some cushion." He quips back, raising and lowering his brows in an obviously vulgar humor. "And now that you've opened the door, I must ask... is it the top half that's fish or the bottom half?" 'Mix.' His companion answers immediately, engaged by the mares earlier praise and still drawn to their similarities. 'Not half.' He asserts through their bond. 'Yes, I know.' The stallion answers inwardly, an edge of exasperation in his mental voice. 'I'll explain the joke to you when you're older.' The pythons excitement withers, embarrassed and insulted to have misunderstood something so early into his vocal stage, his comments falling silent.

One ebony ear turns toward the serpent, its owner anything but immune to his companions hurts, physical or emotional. He attempts to smooth the change in mood by asking a question on the pythons behalf, mentally prodding him not to check out of the conversation just yet. "Since you seem more qualified than I am, what does it mean when scales get itchy?" He bites his tongue just short of asking any more forthright a question, unwilling to show enough outward emotion for the snake to pose questions as blunt as, Is he sick? Should I be worried? Have I done something wrong?, but the cognitive tie between their two minds is harder to control than the things that come out of his mouth (which is truly saying something in his case) and the implication of his concern slips through, even unspoken.

'Not sick.' The python begrudgingly whispers after a time, though he acknowledges that he's about as experienced with owning scales as his fur covered bonded. 'Just dry.' "He says he feels dry, if that helps, but we've been here all day, so I don't know how that's possible." To this the python has no answer, instead focusing his attention on wringing himself around the stallions right horn, rubbing his uncomfortable surfaces against the tiny growth ridges along its length.


OOC // @Syrena

"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'

Albrecht

"Outgrows his skin." He repeats, eyes wide and incredulous. "That sounds... unpleasant." 'Itchy.' His companion corrects, still rubbing his nose against the tiny imperfections of his bondeds horns. He's sure that if he can just scrape the edge of one scale against them at the right angle- The stallion rolls his eyes, mentally cutting off the thought. "Of course, my mistake, itchy." He glances over to the mare, mentally backtracking in the conversation to her answer of bottom half when the voice inside his head jumps up several decibels.

'Shed!' The python shouts across their bond, his excitement actually palpable as the elders heartbeat surges in unison with his young companions. The snake moves down his bondeds face, hanging over one brow to proudly display the small flap of dry skin he's managed to pull away from his snout. "It's a start at least." His bonded comments by way of congratulation. His eyes cut to the mare again, his thoughts uninterrupted this time. "But you said he'll keep doing this? Will it be easier after the first time?" He sighs without waiting for an answer. "Of course I'd get the one that needs maintenance."

"You were supposed to be a dragon you know." He nods his head up and down to jostle the young companion, though not enough to dislodge or truly frighten the snake. "Fearsome. Self sufficient." The python arches, hissing low in his little throat for the first time, but his bonded is unimpressed. "Oh come off it. You hug things to death."



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // So I'm down to one pain pill every four hours instead of two, but I'm sorry if this is still utter trash. Also, is the color difference between Alby talking and Strom talking clear enough?

Albrecht

As far as the stallion is concerned, even a speculative confirmation that shedding will be easier - and less obnoxious - in the future is a relief. Itchy is a type of uncomfortable, he concedes silently, and the snakes emotions flare with a proud I-told-you-so zeal, quickly followed by a renewed admiration for the water horse as she denounces the merit of dragons, his personal rivals, in her very next breath. The little python looks to his bonded again, reading the old stallions reaction.

In all honesty, the old black had never put much thought into the logistics of dragon keeping, only into the pleasant idea of having a personal, incorruptible body guard with its very own armory of offensive weapons. He blinks at the snake, reading thought and emotion from their bond rather than from his face or body posture, neither of which give anything away about his internal workings except in the most fervent of cases. He notes the companions quiet, impassive gaze and cocks an ear appreciatively, remembering now just how annoying some of the other Basin companions can be, the incessant squawking and squealing of the Weavers griffin coming immediately to mind. The white faced stallions dragons hadn't seemed so loud or distruptive as that, but the snobbishness of the gold one had hinted at a certain level of maintenance, and surely more than the occasional shed or weekly hunt.

"Hm." He acknowledges mildly, but the snake can hear his inner workings and takes this as a full blown admission of equality, lifting his little head to stare silent and unblinking in the mares direction, his expressionless face beaming an invisible, undying gratitude. 'Friend.' He declares inaudibly, and the stallion grins. "I guess you can count yourself among the illustrious ranks of snake besties now."

As far as sneaky goes, it's never occurred to him to use the snake to spy before, a laughable oversight considering his position in the herd, though less laughable when his aggressive avoidance of duties is taken into account. He does occasionally rely on the snakes scent and thermal mapping, his companions senses much sharper than his own, but that's always been in conjunction with his own senses, the two traveling together and overlaying their two versions of the world to make one image with more detail than either alone would yield, but to use him as an earpiece would involve their separation, something neither has pushed for yet. The python makes his home atop the stallions head and despite all his complaining, the stallion has grown accustomed to him being there. An unwelcome and embarrassing prick of anxiety intrudes on his thoughts as he imagines leaving the young companion somewhere, hidden among the branches of a tree or curled in a shallow den, to watch some private happenstance and report back to his bonded. The snakes interest peaks, eager to prove his worth by almost any means necessary, but the stallion temporizes as all parents do in the face of uncomfortable questions and unstoppable realities; Maybe when you're older.



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
Ooc // @Syrena

Albrecht

“Hairy is fine.” He rumbles mildly, disinterested in the common, stiffly rehearsed pleasantries of formal introductions. He much prefers to omit these mindless time wasters from conversation, jumping into a line of dialogue or interaction before the target participant can drift into habit. Even more preferable is to derail those social comforts partway through, tossing the civilized and the well-mannered types completely off their intellectual balance.

His companion, normally tolerant at the least and openly amused at the most by his bondeds antics, seems to suddenly disapprove, a shadow of annoyance dulling their bond. The young snake wants to preserve this budding friendship - he hasn’t missed the way the mare seems to speak to him, personally, and not just the old stallion when she replies, for once the groom and not the groomsman – and wishes fervently for the black to curb his cheekiness for fear of sending her away. The old stallion teases the snake mercilessly, A first crush? He mentally prods, How adorable, but yields to the serpents wish after another moment of silence. He briefly wishes that more Helovians were as comfortable with an amiable silence as the sea-mare seems to be. “But, Albrecht, if you prefer.”

He watches closely for any sign of recognition, any hint of familiarity with the name, but after the total obliviousness of the badger mare in the Threshold – and everyone currently living in the Aurora Basin - he feels his fear of discovery drastically lessening. Whatever magic chose to draw him here, and it must be magic, for no map he’s ever seen of his homeland includes Helovia, Dorobo, or any of the other faraway lands strangers speak of here - from the exile of his home has yet to draw a second time from that same continent. He remains apprehensive though, always braced for the impact.

“At any rate, I think I’m wrinkling – and not from old age.” One overgrown fore-hoof rises above the surface of the water with a grunt of effort and the old stallion examines it thoroughly after being submerged for so long. There’s no visible damage, of course, but that doesn’t prevent his look of distaste. The young python silently snarks through hyperbolic emotions and cartoon images of the two of them that water damage is the least of his worries as far as aesthetics go. If anything, the soak has done him some good in removing a layer or two of filth from his lower half. The stallion shakes himself by way of response. “Now that he’s figured out how to relieve the itchiness, I think we’ll head for drier pastures.”



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Syrena