The trail has meandered through the forest for some time, hopping streams and slogging through marshes; its route at times is seemingly nonsensical as it strives to keep to higher, drier ground. The ground right here is firm, anyway, where a belt of trees separates two vast, lush expanses of meadow -- or rather, wetlands, since the grasses, reeds and wildflowers that form the meadows are of species that like their feet wet. Doubtless these depressions were ponds or small lakes in the years before the Sun's return. Wildlife abounds -- the chirrup of frogs and the calls of birds are distracting even at high noon. At dusk they must be deafening.
To the southeast, the trail follows the curve of the larger meadow for several hundred yards, before it disappears into the trees. To the southwest, it cuts sharply into the forest and begins to climb.
Did someone call for 'tall, dark, and handsome'? Well, dark's fairly well covered, at least. Jet-black hair hangs loose to just past his waist, a few stray strands about the face occasionally drifting into his almost equally dark eyes, the irises of which are a brown deep enough that one needs to look closely to find the pupil. Nut-brown skin that sets off the white of his teeth and eyes -- it could just barely be mistaken for a very deep tan, if one really tried. Tall is a miss; he's still several inches off six feet, and he probably won't ever get there. Handsome... well, not a classic beauty, to be sure, but well-proportioned, with a stunning, frequent grin and deeply expressive features. Slim, but in perfectly good shape.
He seems to have gone for the unusual in his choice of attire today; he's in a tight, long-sleeved black-mesh shirt which shows off the nicely developed lines of his torso, and below it... he's, uh, wearing a skirt. It's blackwatch plaid and the argument could be made for it being a minikilt, if one tried -- the fastening's right, but the hem hits a good few inches above his knees. Over all, he wears a decidedly well-worn old black trenchcoat, almost too big for him -- the cuffs hang down half-over his hands, when he lets them, and the hem hangs perilously close to his heels. Scuffed black leather boots with worn soles adorn his feet; there's a seemingly random collection of bracelets, all on one wrist, and several piercings along the upper section of each ear -- little silver hoops. His right ear also bears a rather delicate silver earcuff.
This young man has a definite Native American cast to his features. Black, sharply defined eyebrows and high cheekbones frame eyes the brown-black color of richly brewed coffee. Those dark eyes regard the world with a mixture of curiosity and irrepressable cheer. A prominent, straight nose set above expressive lips completes his dark-skinned face. Those lips quirk easily into a smile of one variety or another, though the expressions tend not to linger. He's also frequently brushing his thick black hair out of his eyes, though it's currently held back by a pair of chunky techno-gadgety goggles with bright green lenses. It's straight, from those Native American genes, and is just long enough to get in the way without being long enough to tie back.
He's not especially tall, about five and a half feet, but with the way he carries himself, he doesn't give the impression of being short. His build is the wiry one of youth, and that of someone who is in excellent shape from hard physical training. He is lean and muscular, his chest broader than might be expected, his waist and hips narrow, and he moves with deceptively languid grace.
Now that the weather's warming up, Bryce is dressed in, well, not much. He's found a pair of sandstone colored cargo shorts, whose pockets bulge at odd angles from the gadgets he's stuffed in them. He's shirtless, and his already dark skin has tanned to a deep bronze shade, and it seems he's given up on shoes and is just going barefoot. Oh, and he's got his goggles on, usually worn up high on his forehead so that his hair is pushed out at odd angles.
Bryce is bounding about the meadows in his cougar form, splashing and getting muddy and wet and generally making a mess. It appears he's chasing something, or batting it around anyway. He's got one of those melons that've shown up and is using it as a giant ball to chase. Occassionally he pounces it and gnaws on it a bit, but can't quite seem to get his jaws around it and so ends up chasing it some more.
Serendipity's arrival is announced first by cheerful singing -- something about a lass at a market with very fine melons indeed -- and then by a melon he's been lightly kicking along ahead of him escaping and rolling further down the path. He hurries to try to catch it with a foot before it rolls into the marshy bits. He's got another melon in one hand, and is holding a blanket slung over his shoulder with the other.
The air over a particularly deep and muddy section of the marsh murmurs and parts, and Danny slogs out of the Umbra and into hip-deep reeds, lily pads, and water. His satyr form is mostly recognizable by his ears, since his hind quarters and tail are almost completely submerged. Ren and Bryce both get scandalized looks. "You're kicking them around!" he exclaims.
Chase chase fun fun rolly slippery thing! Bryce exclaims as he bats his melon towards Danny, then turns and tears off towards Ren. He stops and gives himself a thorough shake, nose to tail, in unfortunate proximity to the Coyote kin.
"Hey, I picked this one," Ren assures Danny, and indeed the one he's kicking seems decidedly smaller and less ripe than the ones that've shown up all over. The one he's holding is a different story. "Anyway, di- gah!" He does a quick turn, protecting most of himself with the coat, though Bryce manages to spatter his boots and some of his hair, as well.
Danny wades forward to intercept the approaching melon as quickly as he can, but not quickly enough. It submerges just below the waterline a few feet out from him, and owing to its naturally buoyant nature bobs up above the surface occasionally. He sighs and stops making such a heroic effort, and settles for slowly navigating the plantlife and water. "Well, alright, as long as you don't--watch out!" His warning is far too late, and as hindered as he is Danny can only give Ren a sympathetic look.
Bryce pads away, looking smug as only a cat can, and begins grooming a paw. Oh, you were there? So sorry. If one were listening very carefully, they might almost hear his inner laughter.
Serendipity gives a shake of his own -- it's less impressive on the coat level, but the hair... there's a lot more hair to whip about than Bryce has fur, length-wise. A good amount of the wet gets fired right back at the cougar before the kin turns around and sticks his tongue out at Bryce primly, reaching up to finger-comb his locks back into behaving.
Danny grunts loudly at Bryce and tosses his head. "Spoken like a true cat," he says. Once he's reached firmer ground the Perunka climbs out, his hindquarters covered with mud and marsh grass, and leans over to fetch the forlorn melon up. He watches Ren's return shaking, but for the moment his tail remains an unmoving, sopping mess. "Careful there," he warns Ren. "He can jump back in the water and his coat will hold an awful lot. I've heard Justin yelling about it."
Bryce's coat twitches as he's counter-splattered and he trots further away from Ren, lashing his tail a little and pointedly /not/ looking at the kin. Hmph. He'll show his disapproval by ignoring, nay /shunning/ he who so unfairly splattered him.
"Just returnin' what's his," Ren replies terribly innocently to the warning, and grins, stretching with melon and blanket alike high over his head. "Never actually run inta anyone else out here b'fore. 'cha up to, Danny?"
"I come up here quite a bit, mostly to practice getting in and out of the Umbra. Like right now. It's a nice place to get strength up for running too." Danny makes a mess of his shirt by cradling the melon absently, then migrates the mess from his hands to his hair when he unconsciously brushes it back. It's nearly shoulder-length, now, and will soon require a queue if he expects to continue using his eyes to see. He shakes out his tail, which sends out a healthy spray of plant bits and water, but it all falls far and away from Ren or Bryce. Shunning-shun-shun he nickers at Bryce. You'll never get clean.
Bryce shifts to his human form, filthy and grinning. "I'll stop by the lake on the way back," he says brightly. "Hey, where'd all these melons come from, anyway? I woke up using one as a pillow yesterday!"
Serendipity laughs, and tosses-and-catches the remaining melon idly in his hand. "Danny surmises they might be from th' Neighbours. Justin sais somethin' 'bout maybe gifts from the summer unicorn, but I think he was jokin'."
"You and me both. If Aurelia sees me like this she'll drown me herself." Danny grins despite the threat to his life, and tips his head at Ren. "Actually I think he was serious. I was anyways. The unicorns do strange things. They left that crazy statue in front of our house. Well, one did." He tells Bryce, "They're all over. I keep gathering them up and taking them to the Diner, or giving them to folks who haven't found any yet. Maybe we should collect some for Martin to take down into Millinockett." He glances at Ren with raised eyebrows.
Bryce shrugs amiably. "As long as they don't disappear in a couple of days. You know, like the stuff Robin makes sometimes goes away after a while. That would be bad," he says, a look of sudden horror on his face now. "What if you ate one for lunch, and it disappeared, and then you were hungry again!"
Serendipity inclines his head toward Danny, and then nods, grinning again. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea. Seein' as how there's so many of 'em..." He stifles a little yawn, and studies the melon in his hand at Bryce's comment. "...SEEMS real enough. Taste real, too."
Danny chuckles and shakes his head. "How that's different from what we're both like now?" he asks Bryce. "Anyways, the fruit salad we made yesterday didn't evaporate from my stomach or from anyone else's, that I can tell. I wasn't hungry again for a whole hour." He nods at Ren, and says, "If you seem him before I do, tell him they'll be collecting at the Diner. We can maybe pack some with the next batch of ceramics."
Bryce looks suspicious, but doesn't argue. "Yeah, giving some to Martin and to hungry people is probably a good idea. If I had a gun, I'd probably use them for target practice," he says, then mimes shooting something with his index finger, complete with sound effects (PAK!). "They'd make really satisfying targets."
"If someone threw 'em," Ren agrees, and a thoughtful look briefly flits across his face, then is gone. "I'll let Martin know. Assumin' there's plans t' go down there before the melons get past their prime, an' all."
Danny sighs at Ren and Bryce. "How could you destroy perfectly good melons like that? If they *are* a gift or, something, from the unicorns or the Neighbors kicking them and shooting at them might be insulting and upset whichever gave them to us." These are terrible prospects indeed, and he settles the melon in his arms a little more securely despite its somewhat questionable state.
Bryce looks sullen, kicking at a patch of weeds and hanging his head, but nods at Danny. "Yeah I guess so," he agrees. "Gotta be nice to spirits or they won't teach you things."
Serendipity blinks at Danny. "Huh. Didn't thinka that, actually," he admits. "But you gotta admit, in general, they =would= make good targets. Even if we aren't gonna use these ones for that." He sets his blanket down on the ground, and the melon atop it. "Be nice t' be able t' talk to spirits. Got questions for 'em."
"Well...I guess they would." Danny gives his rescued melon an apologetic look, and nods at Ren. "I wish I could call them like Miki and the Seers do. The most that's ever happened to me was when those two outriders from Epona's Army showed up, but I didn't call them. They were just, there. All the other times I've learned Gifts, someone else called them for me."
Bryce nods at Danny. "That's how it was for me, too. That unicorn just kind of showed up. Well, I /was/ looking for him, but I didn't do any kind of calling thing." He grows thoughtful, then. "Maybe just willing your intent to meet one, or a certain one, is enough sometimes. Since magic has to do with your will and stuff. Maybe some of them can feel that, though it seems like a pretty clumsy way of doing things."
"I gotta talk to some more unicorns," Ren muses, "...the one I chatted with knew =somethin'= about the 'wisha bein' gone, so the others might know more. ...hope they haven't all left yet."
"I don't think they have," Danny says slowly. He bites at his lip and his eyes half-close for a moment, then he shakes his head and opens his eyes again. "No, I think some of them are still around. A lot probably have, though." He assures Ren, "They live for so long, one of them should know something. Just keep looking for them."
Bryce nods again. "Yeah, don't give up. I'd just go find a rock to sit on way out in plain view and wait. Concentrate on wanting to meet one, maybe. It might take you a couple of days, but at the least, one of them's bound to get curious and come check you out." He goes to run a hand through his hair, notices that both it and his hair are filthy, and shivers in disgust. "Okay, this is just too gross. I gotta go have a bath."
Serendipity nods slightly. "Not a bad idea," he decides, "...the unicorn-huntin', I mean, not the bath. Though," he regards Bryce critically, if not unappreciatively, "that's not a bad idea either." He scoops up his melon in order to take and spread out the blanket in a nice, sunny, dry area.
"It's worked for Robin, and even for me. Sort of." Danny looks down at his clothing and grimaces. "Yeah, me too." He eyes Bryce, and graciously says, "I'll let you use the bathtub and confine myself to the lake, so you don't have to wait so long."
Bryce starts skipping, backwards, towards the treeline. "Oooorrr I could splash in the stream on the way down," he says impishly, as though splashing in the stream were somehow terribly naughty. "Either way, I'll see you slow-pokes later," he says, then blurs into his cougar form and dashes off into the trees.
Serendipity hehs and sits on his blanket, stretching out then and getting comfy. "Have fun gettin' clean. Oh, an' if you see Martin or Rae, feel free t' tell 'em where I am, yeah?"
"Not a problem, Ren." Danny grins and waves, then turns and heads out in a swift, agile, two-legged sprint into the trees. He follows in Bryce's wake with the melon neatly tucked along his side.