𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌

"I see..." She murmured, weighing her options.

Mizu supposed that was a valid question. Any normal person would have stopped at the inn for the night. But she was not any normal person. She was never treated as such.

HIS EYE WIDENS, CONFUSED. Why would they be denied welcome into even an inn? Is their blood to their name? Perhaps a stroke of bad luck? Or something else? Kubo knew little of what it was to be an outcast—mostly because his community, though at first estranged by his gifts, soon found themselves mystified and amazed. Even before then, the village had never cast a cruel eye at him. He had been, and always will be, the son of a mysterious maiden who washed up on the shore one fateful night.

The chill in the air mists his breath as he thinks for a moment. Then, just as they were to begin their trek back down the mountain, he speaks. "Wait." "If it is a shelter you seek, our cave isn't as warm as the ones in the village . . . but we have a hearth and some food. I'm sure grandfather wouldn't mind having a guest, if you are willing to repay us with a story or two." No coin, no errand to fulfill. He wouldn't even ask for their protection, even if it might be costly. Just a story from a weary traveler to fill their ears and minds. Kubo always liked those.

“ oooooh , ” the dragonet marvels , his dark eyes wide and warm . “ cool ! ”

there's no need to be cautious with asking t.abaluga what he is , no sir ! the little one is more than happy to illuminate his genus to the other .

“ i'm a dragon ! ” he answers proudly , outstretching his little golden wings and thick , nubby tail . a baby dragon , he ought to specify-- for such majestic beasts were certainly bigger and . . . better distributed than the pudgy little beastie before them .

“ well-- i'm kinda little right now . . . ” t.abaluga reinstates , snorting hot air from his muzzle at lilli's silent giggle . she sticks out her tongue , in turn . meanie .

"REALLY?" THE THOUGHT OF MEETING A DRAGON, and a friendly one at that, is quite a prospect . . . but Kubo realizes this one doesn't like quite the same as other dragons . . . at least, not the ones he was used to. He studies the dragonet up and down, then cants his head, thinking aloud. "But . . . aren't dragons supposed to be . . . kind of long? Like snakes?"

He squints slightly. By comparison, Tabaluga was rounder, and he puffed smoke and had a pair of golden wings on his back. In contrast, Kubo had been taught that dragons were serpentine gods that dwelt in the surrounding seas and rivers.

He was wary, but even she could discern it was do to how tightly she was gripping the hilt of her sword. She loosens her hold, but only slightly.

"I'm aware." That's why she had been heading up in the first place, away from the prying eyes of the villagers and to be left to her own devices. To train and medidate and maybe set up camp for the night before moving on.

But what was a young boy doing up on the mountain? Had he been playing and was now returning to his home? Or, did he in fact, live up there...? If that was the case, she didn't want to stumble across his home when she wanted nothing more than her solitude and she did not particularly feel like walking all the way back down to find a place to rest in the village. Well, only one way to find out.

HE TURNS TO ADDRESS THEM MORE DIRECTLY, slightly adjusting the strap of the instrument slung over his shoulder. "Yes sir," he'd answer, with only a slight hint of hesitation in his voice. "Me and my grandfather."

Obviously, this was a traveler. If their clothes did not give that much away then their curiosity certainly did. The village had mostly recovered since the fire, and he knows there was an inn for weary travelers—why did this fellow go not go there? Why trouble themselves with an arduous hike up to a cave that barely sufficed as a home?

Well, he hadn't gotten this far in the plan. His plan was to find and/or make this stuff, and then get here. That was it. He wasn't sure if he made it right. It could make noise. He assumed someone who was a musician could probably make it actually sound alright, so he wasn't prepared to be thrust into the position of trying to make them function.

Was he here to try to learn? To see it used right? Was this something he actually wanted to practice? There's no way he'd actually have the patience for it. He partook in fleeting interests a lot though.

Of course, as he sets up and then begins to hesitantly tap onto a few of the pieces, he really digs in for a few seconds and makes noise. This quickly stops as he realizes he has no clue what he's doing. He tries to put some thought into it but that's just noise but slower. His attempt peters out as the embarrassment slowly starts to kick in.

"Uh.... like that."

But, he supposed everyone had a beginning. He knows he did; Kubo's earliest memories of playing with the divine instrument in his arms are as blurry and foggy as some of his first coherent sentences. The only thing he knows for certain is that his gifts with the shamisen didn't shine immediately.

"IT'S A START." He begins, before outstretching his arm, gesturing for the other child to offer him the drumsticks. He's no music teacher—aside from early lessons with his mother, Kubo himself was self-taught—but he could probably offer some insight. "Try this," and he begins to drum a certain beat, one that he recognized quite a bit from the festivals in his village.

Don't feel a twinge of guilt, Kubo! This kind of play invigorates the felicid's prey drive. All his senses are honed on the little, paper sparrow. His wide, focused gaze follows it without fault, and the little giddy chitters sing of his excitement. Of course his goal is to catch it though… which is where the poor child made a big mistake.

A sapient mind would be able to tell the paper's magic is subsiding, but an animal perceives it as the bird losing stamina. It's coming in for a landing and Airin will not miss this opportunity!

Thus, he charges towards Kubo. The felicid SLAMS into him paws first. The impact causes them to roll on the ground for a moment, but once they stop– Airin is sniffing and pawing around for the sparrow with excited whines!

Many a child might wince and cry at the pain. It did hurt, Kubo would not deny that it did. Yet instead of crying out, he found himself laughing loudly and cheerfully, unable to contain his amusement at Airin's attempt.

Usually villagers left her alone, but they would stare if they so much as caught a glimpse of her eyes. With fear, dread, and the worst of all--contempt. She was used to it of course. It would be nothing new, but there were times she would like to pass through completely unnoticed. A ghost. Here one moment, gone the next.

She hears the soft footfalls of someone walking behind her. Her hand grips the hilt of her sword out of pure instinct before forcing herself to relax. Once she sees that her unexpected companion is nothing more than a child, but even children had the capacity for cruelty. She knew that better than anyone.

Looking to her left, blue eyes fall on the small form of Kubo. A rare pang of sympathy strikes her heart when she sees the patch covering his eye. That is simply the harsh reality of this world. Everyone loses something at one point or another but they continue on. That's just life.

The samurai stops suddenly just before the child can pass her. She says nothing for a moment, merely gazing at him impassively underneath her wide hat until she opens her mouth.

HE HAD THOUGHT NOTHING OF IT, HAVING BRUSHED OFF that chill down his spine with casual grace and expecting for them to merely pass one another silently. Yet he stops in his tracks, beckoned by a prompt that felt like a question upon addressing him.

He grips the strap of his shamisen a little tighter, and his only eye finally side glances from where he stood, to study this stranger up and down. Skin that was mortal and full of life—no, it wasn't who he feared it was. Entities from the Kingdom of his mother's ancestors had skin that was as pale and cold as ice, stunning like the moon. Their hand is gripping the hilt of a sword, tucked at their side.

In feeble effort to distance himself from the sword, he sidesteps, but no further. It's not likely it would do much if this person had harmful intentions. His gaze follows her arm up to her face, and his brows arch meekly.

"Yes?" It was then that he realized where she'd been headed. Uphill . . . versus downhill like he had been. There was nothing up ahead beyond the tip of Mortal's Point, except for the cave that he and his grandfather called home.

"I made drums."

He has acquired many tools that could be used to make percussive sounds. A metal sheet over a bowl. An odd shaped log. A wooden board. Quite a collection indeed.

It's not obvious what his intentions are with this declaration, and he doesn't proceed to clarify, rather waiting to see the response of Kubo first, who he has specifically sought after just to show this collection.

HE HADN'T REALLY PLANNED ON ENCOUNTERING the wolf child again—he didn't expect that this youth wandered anywhere beyond his forest. Apparently he did, however, because he was here now—and alongside him were offerings.

Despite the ears and the tail, it's clear to Kubo now that this other boy was really just another child. One who seemed enthusiastic about music, judging by the drums. Even if he isn't clear with his intention, the young bard has a pretty good guess as to what it is. It's . . . endearing, actually.