[SkyGold]

CF #4 - Blossom

Main thread

Chirping foxes' name is sort of a misnomer - they're not actually foxes at all, though they look very similar. A species all on their own, chirping foxes are called such due to their fox-like appearance and their unique form of communication -- they "talk" primarily through chirps, clicks, and keens. These false foxes are quite talkative, as well, and you can't be around one without hearing an earful of their chatter.

________________________________________________

I love using overlay

________________

To win this chirping fox, describe what they think is a perfect day. You can list the events, write a journal log, write a story or more!

There is no word limit.
Won by Kattata
________________________________________________

Code: Select all

Username:
Fox name:
Gender:
Gender (for breeding purposes):
Their perfect day:


________________

Ends on July 29th

[invincible llama]

username: invincible llama

fox name: curio

gender: female

gender (for breeding purposes): female

her perfect day: curio tapped her pen to the bottom of her chin and glanced around. "what to put down, what to put down.." she mumbled thoughtfully. the teenaged chirping fox looked at her assignment sheet. in rather large letters at the top, she read aloud, "write about your perfect day. due tomorrow!!" she grabbed a sheet of paper off the top of her dresser and a pen out of her backpack and began to write..

"my perfect day would be a warm, sunny day at about 68° fahrenheit, during summer. i would sleep in until around 9:40 and have pancakes for breakfast served in bed. i would stay on my phone until about 11:20 and invite my friends over. we would greet, have some snacks and play with my playstation for a few hours. we then would go to the city, shop, and walk around until about 10. i'd stay up till 11:50 on my computer and would then go to bed.

that would be my perfect day."

(pls note this is in an anthropomorphic world)

[Kattata]

Eeep~ I hope this is still technically allowed! I know today's the last day, but it still says UFA sooo ... I hope I'm considered, at least!! ;w;

Edited to fix an unclosed tag in my username, whoooops. |D

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Username: Kattata
Fox Name: Teak
Gender: Male
Gender (for breeding purposes): Male
Their Perfect Day:

Almost finished ...

Motes of dust drifted, in no particular direction, through the afternoon light, spilling from the enormous picture-window with such sweet slowness that it might not have been light at all but honey given substance. Old Man Winter had begun to make his first vicious forays into the northern counties, but here, Indian summer ruled still.

Teak didn't mind. In fact, it rather helped his work along, enriching the texture of the woods it was his pleasure and duty to shape—

(the dust motes swirled in the slight wind of the little fox-creature's passing as he padded across his library-slash-workroom, the baroque swirls that marked his body like intricate embroidery beginning, ever so slightly, to glow the same faint, lambent gold that had bloomed in the irises of his eyes, spreading from the pupil outward, like a single droplet of ink into a glass of water)

... the cabinet lay before him.

They had brought it to him splintered, smashed into pieces, and as a true craftsman his heart had broken to see such old and irreplaceable woodworking destroyed so cruelly. It was his brother, the younger vulpine creature had pleaded; his brother had been furious to learn, at the reading of their recently-deceased mother's will, that he was to inherit no valuable antiques—

"And no wonder," Teak had interrupted brusquely; he had never been very good at that to begin with, and seeing this elegant, broken thing the apologetic son had dragged to him, laid out in his sunny workroom like a body at a crime-scene, hadn't made his threadbare grasp of diplomacy any easier.

But when he had glanced back up, Teak had been first startled, then touched, to find that the young false-fox before him was ... yes, he was weeping, wretchedly, "My grandfather made that, as a wuh— a w-w-wedding gift! And he d-dropped it down the stairs, he said it was an accident but I know it wasn't, he just ... I think ... he thought that if he couldn't have it, then n-no one cou—ould ..."

The little false-fox hung his head, striving valiantly to save face, not to bring himself shame by allowing his elder to hear him crying ... but Teak's ears were still excellent in spite of his age, and he heard the tiny sounds of the youngling's tears pattering onto the glossy floorboards of his workroom. "Oh please, ser, can't you fix it ... ? It's ..." He reached down, miserably nuzzling at one of the still-smooth edges. "... all I have of them."

And Teak had stared down at it. Then, he had quashed all the protestations from the more logical sections of his hindbrain, drawn a deep breath, and let it out again in a hissing whistle between his teeth. And then, after an eternity ...

"We'll see," was all Teak would say, unwilling to make any brash promises, aware that there were only so many things you could do with these old heirlooms—crafted and carved so well that the pieces fit together with practically no joinery of any kind, no magic and no glue—before they snapped apart once and for all.

That was a fortnight ago, give or take a few days. Teak polished off a (likely wholly psychosomatic) smear from the lacquered finish—it had needed a bit of restoration, too. Really, this job was among his best, and he couldn't wait until—

Teak heard a bounding up his front stairs, and withdrew a step, revealing the cabinet.

It stood whole almost where the false-fox had dumped the splintered pieces, its surface without scar or blemish—even deep within the wood, where a mark might not mar a piece's physical beauty but would absolutely undermine and weaken it from inside. Teak had checked just that morning, closing his eyes and easing his awareness down into the grain of the wood, double- and triple-checking his work, because magical repair was not the two-second miracle cure that the ignorant thought it was. Generally, Teak preferred to use the tried-and-true 'ordinary' methods; they became true, and often tried, for a reason.

Because craftsmen are wise enough to understand that their worth can be measured by the sum of their works, and because Teak was an excellent craftsman, the cabinet had been polished until the dark wood gleamed like a cup of night sky. Teak had moved a little to the side of the cabinet and turned swiftly as the false-fox had leapt inside, all the better to see his face. The slack-jawed wonderment, the sheer relief shot through with disbelief, continually breaking into a helpless smile ...

"It's a miracle," the young creature breathed, sounding reverent. "It's like you brought it back from ... from the dead ..."

Teak snorted. "No, pup; it was no miracle." After a moment, he repeated, sounding a little smug now, his smile almost feline in its self-satisfaction, "No miracle, just skill."

He knew he would find his match someday—wood that he couldn't speak to, work with, shape as the old craftsmen did and continue to do—damage that he could not, for all his perseverance and determination, undo.

Someday, but not today. Today ...

Teak glanced again at the young false-fox, still devouring the cabinet's restored image with his eyes, his mouth once more a little open. Teak smoothed his ruff with a few short strokes of his tongue, allowing the magic fizzing in his blood to settle, so that his markings no longer glowed that faint, lambent gold.

Today was perfect.

[SkyGold]

Eeep~ I hope this is still technically allowed! I know today's the last day, but it still says UFA sooo ... I hope I'm considered, at least!! ;w;

Edited to fix an unclosed tag in my username, whoooops. |D

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Username: Kattata
Fox Name: Teak
Gender: Male
Gender (for breeding purposes): Male
Their Perfect Day:

Almost finished ...

Motes of dust drifted, in no particular direction, through the afternoon light, spilling from the enormous picture-window with such sweet slowness that it might not have been light at all but honey given substance. Old Man Winter had begun to make his first vicious forays into the northern counties, but here, Indian summer ruled still.

Teak didn't mind. In fact, it rather helped his work along, enriching the texture of the woods it was his pleasure and duty to shape—

(the dust motes swirled in the slight wind of the little fox-creature's passing as he padded across his library-slash-workroom, the baroque swirls that marked his body like intricate embroidery beginning, ever so slightly, to glow the same faint, lambent gold that had bloomed in the irises of his eyes, spreading from the pupil outward, like a single droplet of ink into a glass of water)

... the cabinet lay before him.

They had brought it to him splintered, smashed into pieces, and as a true craftsman his heart had broken to see such old and irreplaceable woodworking destroyed so cruelly. It was his brother, the younger vulpine creature had pleaded; his brother had been furious to learn, at the reading of their recently-deceased mother's will, that he was to inherit no valuable antiques—

"And no wonder," Teak had interrupted brusquely; he had never been very good at that to begin with, and seeing this elegant, broken thing the apologetic son had dragged to him, laid out in his sunny workroom like a body at a crime-scene, hadn't made his threadbare grasp of diplomacy any easier.

But when he had glanced back up, Teak had been first startled, then touched, to find that the young false-fox before him was ... yes, he was weeping, wretchedly, "My grandfather made that, as a wuh— a w-w-wedding gift! And he d-dropped it down the stairs, he said it was an accident but I know it wasn't, he just ... I think ... he thought that if he couldn't have it, then n-no one cou—ould ..."

The little false-fox hung his head, striving valiantly to save face, not to bring himself shame by allowing his elder to hear him crying ... but Teak's ears were still excellent in spite of his age, and he heard the tiny sounds of the youngling's tears pattering onto the glossy floorboards of his workroom. "Oh please, ser, can't you fix it ... ? It's ..." He reached down, miserably nuzzling at one of the still-smooth edges. "... all I have of them."

And Teak had stared down at it. Then, he had quashed all the protestations from the more logical sections of his hindbrain, drawn a deep breath, and let it out again in a hissing whistle between his teeth. And then, after an eternity ...

"We'll see," was all Teak would say, unwilling to make any brash promises, aware that there were only so many things you could do with these old heirlooms—crafted and carved so well that the pieces fit together with practically no joinery of any kind, no magic and no glue—before they snapped apart once and for all.

That was a fortnight ago, give or take a few days. Teak polished off a (likely wholly psychosomatic) smear from the lacquered finish—it had needed a bit of restoration, too. Really, this job was among his best, and he couldn't wait until—

Teak heard a bounding up his front stairs, and withdrew a step, revealing the cabinet.

It stood whole almost where the false-fox had dumped the splintered pieces, its surface without scar or blemish—even deep within the wood, where a mark might not mar a piece's physical beauty but would absolutely undermine and weaken it from inside. Teak had checked just that morning, closing his eyes and easing his awareness down into the grain of the wood, double- and triple-checking his work, because magical repair was not the two-second miracle cure that the ignorant thought it was. Generally, Teak preferred to use the tried-and-true 'ordinary' methods; they became true, and often tried, for a reason.

Because craftsmen are wise enough to understand that their worth can be measured by the sum of their works, and because Teak was an excellent craftsman, the cabinet had been polished until the dark wood gleamed like a cup of night sky. Teak had moved a little to the side of the cabinet and turned swiftly as the false-fox had leapt inside, all the better to see his face. The slack-jawed wonderment, the sheer relief shot through with disbelief, continually breaking into a helpless smile ...

"It's a miracle," the young creature breathed, sounding reverent. "It's like you brought it back from ... from the dead ..."

Teak snorted. "No, pup; it was no miracle." After a moment, he repeated, sounding a little smug now, his smile almost feline in its self-satisfaction, "No miracle, just skill."

He knew he would find his match someday—wood that he couldn't speak to, work with, shape as the old craftsmen did and continue to do—damage that he could not, for all his perseverance and determination, undo.

Someday, but not today. Today ...

Teak glanced again at the young false-fox, still devouring the cabinet's restored image with his eyes, his mouth once more a little open. Teak smoothed his ruff with a few short strokes of his tongue, allowing the magic fizzing in his blood to settle, so that his markings no longer glowed that faint, lambent gold.

Today was perfect.

Oh my goodness this story is so touching! Congrats on your new chirping fox!

Invisible llamas entry was really cute so they win an RU! Send me a color pallete you want used

[invincible llama]

ahh your story was really good- congrats!

thanks so so much for the ru! ill send you the color palette as soon as i find one i like ❤❤