Loona and the Stolen Sense-Feather - Chapter 7: A Tasty Truce
#7 of Loona and the Stolen Sense-Feather
Summary: Loona is tasked to retrieve an important magic item belonging to Stolas from Reynard the Trickster. She finds him in the misty woods of Limbo, where she is taught how agility and trickery can beat out brute force. However, this isn't the only lesson she learns...
I've been a writer for quite a few years, but this is the first story I've felt like I truly got right. If you enjoyed what you've read, it would mean the world to me if you would take the time to share it with one other person, and then ask them to do the same.
Chapter Notes: We finally get the chance to calm the raging beastie. Back in chapter three, Reynard uses a bit of this trick to get her to settle down some. I had to think, while writing, how to get Loona to actually stop and listen to her enemy. Sure, she can develop some respect for his skills, but if things are going to take an intimate turn, there needs to be a bigger shift than even that.
In my eyes, there's some sort of darkness in Loona's past. She's socially withdrawn and awkward, and an adoption at late-17 is a very strange circumstance. When placed alongside other hellhounds, Loona also seems to be relatively small, potentially causing problems for her. She has also been shown to respect or even admire strength in others. There's a lot under the surface, that's for sure. Maybe we can find some answers in Season 2.
Chapter 7 - A Tasty Truce
A moment's quiet passes, Reynard's tail flicking lazily behind him, as he observes Loona's newfound sense of serenity. The hellhound likewise sizes up the fox, recalling their duel with measured reflection and a touch of awe. Rather than relying on brute force, it was his finesse that left her outclassed. Finally breaking the silence, Reynard asks a probing question. "If you could eat anything you wanted, right now, what would it be?"
With a touch of salivation, Loona's response comes quick. "A big, thick steak." The trickster slowly comes to his feet, brushes off his tail, and reaches up for the feather. It's been residing loosely in the thick fur behind his ear since he cut her down.
Stepping next to her and crouching down, he asks, "Open wide, and don't bite down." He cautiously offers the Sense-Feather, indicating it's going into her mouth.
She pulls back and sticks her tongue out, repulsed by the thought. "Uhh, eww. No thanks, that thing smells like ass." She points at it with a single claw, and gives him a look of incredulity.
With a touch of confusion, he gives the feather a sniff, and with uncharacteristic embarrassment, he offers a swift apology. "Oh, oh dear. You are correct. Umm, here, let me fix that." He takes the feather and slides it along the dew-coated ground, letting it collect a thick layer of moisture. He then pulls the hellhound's gloves from his waist, takes one of the soft fingerless ones, and uses it to both dry and re-scent the feather. He offers it to her once again. "Is this more to your satisfaction, miss Loona?"
She leans closer to it, eyeing him with only a small measure of distrust. She gives it a small sniff, and then a deeper one. There's still a touch of something there, but it's a lot better. "Mmm," she grunts, and opens her mouth again, curiosity driving her forward. The feather enters her mouth, slightly tickling the edges. It is then pressed down against her tongue, which she spreads flat against it.
Her taste buds light up with a flash, mouth flooding with drool. The rush of seared meat, a coating of seasonings, a touch of blood, all in perfect combination with each other. Her mouth moves on its own and her jaw begins to close in an attempt to chew the imaginary steak. Responding quickly, the fox pulls the feather from within, leaving her to swirl her tongue around in her mouth, chewing at random nothings.
Gyrrroogh, grraaarlllg... Her stomach growls in anticipation of the hearty morsels that will sadly not be coming. As the illusory taste fades, she refocuses on the fox who is sitting back, watching her with amusement. She quickly wipes the bits of drool from the corners of her jowls and pins her ears back with a bit of embarrassment. "Okay, wow, that was impressive."
"Kah-hah, ha-hah~. Liked that, did you?" A light chitter, much less goading than his earlier laughs. He dries the feather again with her glove, and repeats the question from before. "What else do you dream of eating? Perhaps something sweet?"
This time she thinks a little longer. She stretches her legs out and leans back to look at the rustling branches above her. "Hmm, I've been wanting to try the fruit parfait from Daemon's Devil-food Delights, but they're always sold out." She runs her claws through her hair in an attempt to tame it, with some measure of success.
The fox lets out an audible murmur of uncertainty. "Mm, well, I'm not sure this thing has the power to recreate something quite so specific. Would a general parfait still satisfy your palate?" He leans down from above, putting himself in her line of sight. With a hmm and a nod, she playfully opens her mouth, showing off her throat, teeth, and tongue with a smile. Her eyes close, and she waits patiently to be fed this invisible treat.
Placing the feather towards the far back, and sliding it across, Loona's mouth fills with the taste of cream and sugar. She begins to wrap her tongue around the feather, slowly closing her mouth, giving a swallow for the tasty treat. As the feather slips out, her tongue tingles with the taste of various fruits. Orange, strawberry, kiwi, lemon, cherry. It swirls around switching from sour to tangy to sweet and back. Her eyes flutter and her tail wags in delight as the taste seems to far exceed any memories she has of the real thing.
Reynard takes a seat directly beside the salivating hound. He sits there quietly, feather poking out the back of his far hand, while the sensation fades. Loona heaves a heavy sigh, growing bored with the lingering silence. "So what are you after, fox? Why go through all of this trouble just to sit here next to me?" She glances over, and finds him looking forward, into the mists.
"I mentioned it before, you know. The rumors." He starts off vague, and he feels Loona tense up slightly, her calmness being threatened by some sort of underlying trauma. "Not... not like that. Rumors are just rumors. That's why I wanted to meet you." He pauses, giving her a chance to rebuke him.
She rolls her tongue in her mouth, unease mixing into the earlier calm and pleasantness. She loves rumors and gossip, but not when it comes to herself. "What sort of rumors?" She decides to give him a chance to elaborate, measuring his scent.
"That there's a hellhound under Stolas' indirect employ. Some use words like street-smart and headstrong, attractive, but others call you small and weak, impudent." His words are said with detachment, his expression neutral.
She replies in a critical tone, "And what words do you use?" Her arm tenses up, claws lightly scraping the dirt. She doesn't appreciate being thought of as weak.
"Brash, but also quick thinking. Fearless, but able to be cautious when needed. Goal-focused, but with a playful side. Petite, but more radiant than the full moon itself." He offers up his honest critique, his tone one of praise and admiration, laden with every ounce of sincerity he could squeeze out. She lets the words roll through her head, weighing them against her self-image.
Satisfied, she relaxes again, and a small tickle of embarrassment reaches her ears. Loona has a soft spot for compliments that compare her to the moon. She pulls her knees up and hides her muzzle between them, flattening her ears forward. She peeks over at the fox, tracing his broad shoulders, his lean figure, his face in profile as it stares into the distance. "Th... Thanks. But... why go through all of this if you just wanted to meet me? Couldn't you have just come to the office?"
He laughs a small gekkering laugh, not at Loona but at himself. "Ka-hahah, come now. Do you really think you would have given me the time of day if I hadn't bested you? That was one thing the rumors were consistent about. Your respect is earned by power. Only by proving my abilities would I gain even a second glance." His complaint holds only a small amount of self-pity, however. He stretches wide and yawns, curling back his gums and baring his teeth softly.
She wants to argue, but finds the truth in his words. She dismissed him as a scrawny fox from before they even met, and yet now here she is blushing like a schoolgirl at his words. His wager was a success, allowing them to sit here speaking as equals. "So now what, Reynard? Still got some more tricks up your metaphorical sleeve?"
The fox's eyes flicker and sparkle, thrilled with the recognition of his efforts. Turning to face the young hellhound, he grins a mischievous grin. "My dear, more than your wildest dreams."