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Chapter Summary: As fall closes in and the harbour start to feel a little spooky. Clint can't shake the feeling he's being watched... but the strange little harbour has always had it's protectors. Now maybe he's becoming one of them...
Goddess of the Hunt
The day after their dinner held an eerie calm in the harbour. The morning sun was covered by deep grey clouds. There seemed to be no one in the harbour, most of the boats were pulled from the water now. Only a couple of the local’s boats still sat in the water. But it was a weekday, so the vessels remained empty, creaking gently against their docks. The water was pretty still too, but it was quickly losing the last heat of summer. It was the first day that seemed to keep a proper chill in the morning air. Clint had actually gotten gloves to keep him warm as he stacked the wood in his yard. The result of the clash of temperatures between the air and water was steam floating off the harbour and covering the little bay in a deep misty morning fog. The only sound of the harbour was the knocking of the wood as Clint stacked it and the rare sounds of creaking boats. He felt like he was almost making the noise to settle himself against the unsettling silence of the harbour.
Clint liked that it was quieter there, he was starting to enjoy the slower pace of life, since he’d arrived in Mooney Harbour in the early summer, he’d either been working or in his little cabin. This had been the first week he’d really had the time to get to know his new home. He liked it, but he’d spent his life in a city where there was never silence, and if there was it was probably not a good thing. But here, the noise and the dangers were different. Today was the first day he had an inkling of why his beautiful strange new neighbour kept insisting on preparing him for warmth.
Clint waited until ten am to return her soft scarf that she’s forgotten there the night before. Pausing on his work piling the wood, he went to grab it. He flinched remembering what he’d done last night, he suffered a confusing surge of both shame and exhilaration. He couldn’t help but rub it gently against his cheek taking in the soft scent of her one last time. He looked around his little cabin guilty as if someone might have born witness to his little depravity, then headed out the door and down the long driveway to walk to the cottage across the harbour.
If he found the marina quiet, the back of the Moonie’s cottage property was deathly still, the cottages and trees blocking the view of the water. Not even the leaves seemed to be moving, there was only the fog to push through.
He knocked on her door then waited a moment to knock again. There was no answer and her little dog would surely have barked by now. He looked around a moment and realized her truck wasn’t there. He figured she was probably in town. Unless that old thing had just disintegrated from the rust.
He started to head back up her wooded dirt driveway when a man appeared ahead of him through the fog.
“Hello,” the man said, Clint looked around almost unsure if the man was real, or if he was indeed talking to him. He wasn’t someone Clint recognized from the marina. He didn’t know the names of many people yet, but he knew most of the faces in the harbour by now. He’d gotten pretty good about that, he was still used to looking over his shoulder in earlier days after he left Oakland. The man was about a foot shorter than Clint, wearing a white button up. He looked pretty harmless. “I’m looking for Devana Lunari, have you seen her?”
“No, I don’t know who that is.” He said it gruffly, mostly on instinct. In his old life distrustfulness had been a useful skill. Plus the man had startled him a little, he was already on edge that morning. He walked past the man without breaking his stride. But he paused at the edge of the driveway, Making his presence known as he watch the man poke around, knocking on all the doors of the cottages that sat on the property. Clint didn’t bother to tell him he knew they were empty. He waited until he saw the strange little man get in his black car and drive off her property before he headed back to his cabin. It only dawned on him then, that was her real name, no one ever said it around there. Everyone just called her Moon or Moonie, like she’d asked.
He didn’t like the idea of some strange man looking for her. She was alone out there, except for that funny little dog that couldn’t weigh more than thirty pounds. He’d be the only one who could hear it if she called for help, even then, while the sound carried well across the water, her cottage and his little cabin sat nestled in between thick punches of trees. It was only a the little roads and the little bit of leaf covered lawn surrounding their places that didn’t sprout the large multi coloured trees and evergreens. Maybe he’d start sleeping with his window cracked just a little as a precaution.
And even as he headed back off her property onto the road, back to his little cabin, he just couldn’t shake the feeling he wasn’t alone. He almost felt certain that he was being watched.
The next day he tried again, a little earlier in the morning, just after he loaded Gracie onto her bus, when he got back he walked over to her property. It was still quiet in the harbour, but the sun was out and there was a gentle breeze that created a rustling noise amongst the dry leaves. As he walked down her tree covered dirt driveway, he still couldn’t shake the feeling he had yesterday that he was being watched. That he wasn’t alone.
He shook his head, admonishing himself for being stupid, paranoid. Maybe he really was some cowardly city boy in the great wilderness. Then he heard it… the sharp snap of a twig. Then some rustling right behind him.
He turned quickly, rounding like he was prepared to get jumped by whoever had been hunting him…. Or worse… her.
Then he heard it…
“Gobble, gobble… gobble, gobble”. It was fucking turkeys.
He would be relieved that they were just birds. Except they were massive things and there were at least twelve of them as they were strutting towards him down the driveway, like he owed them money. Feathers fluffed and more a kept appearing seemingly out of nowhere from the trees. He wasn’t sure, could they attack? He’d heard people say that the Canadian geese weren’t to be trifled with and these were three times the size of those honking assholes. He started backing away quickly unwilling to take his eyes off the strangely menacing turkey gang.
Then, all of a sudden, a furry back ball came rushing from behind Clint charging into the giant flock of birds. They took off suddenly in a flutter of big brown wings and gobbles, which startled then confused Clint, he thought turkeys couldn’t fly.
Soon his little black rescuer with his long floppy ears and stubby tail and new bright orange kerchief came trotting up to him happily. The little black field spaniel, clearly pleased with himself.
He was still staring at the trees the flock had disappeared into when he heard her voice behind him.
“You can hardly see them this time of year. It’s crazy how well they blend in with all the fall colours.” She told him as she walked up to him casually in he big, long plaid coat.
“I didn’t know they could fly.”
“They can, they just don’t do it a lot. And they’re dumb as stones.”
Clint chuckled. “I thought I was about to get jumped.”
“Maybe you were, thankfully Romi saved you. There were a lot of them," her eye crinkled a little as she teased him.
“Yeah, I’ve never seen a live turkey before.”
“Oh yeah, they’re all over the place here. It’s tradition at our thanksgivings that when a young man turns 18, he has to catch one with his bare hands, then that’s the bird that we eat.”
“Really?” Clint was suspicious but this was such a strange place, and the birds did come really close, he could see it being possible.
She smiled. “No. There didn’t used to even be that many. The local turkey population got hunted out like a hundred years ago. A few years ago, the Ministry of Natural Resources reintroduced these guys, they’re a hybrid of what’s left of local populations with a European variant. Not the same kind you see in at the turkey drawings. I think the farmed ones are less likely to be able to fly.”
“So, I don’t have kill a turkey with my bare hands under a full moon, for you to think I’m manly?”
“No, you can relax. What are you doing for thanksgiving? You know it’s this weekend, right? We do it in October here. It’d not about Columbus or pilgrims or whatever, it’s a celebration of the fall harvest. Which is right around the corner, the frost will be here soon.”
“That explains why Gracie’s preschool said they were closed for thanksgiving on Monday. I didn’t know, don’t have anything planed. What about you?
She shrugged as a leaf fluttered down and hit her shoulder. “My brother’s visiting my parents in Florida, I’m staying here.”
“Why don’t you go to Florida?”
“I don’t like Florida, or being hot, plus it’s my favourite time of year here anyway. The colours are beautiful the weather is nice there’s no bugs, and there’s less people, so you get more wildlife, as you’ve just discovered.”
Clint nodded, it was beautiful. The days were still warm when the sun came out, the nights were cool and the colours were beautiful and the air was crisp. He could understand that. Turkey gangs excluded.
“Makes sense. Well, ah, I could make dinner, for thanksgiving if you want to come over?” Clint offered
“Sure, I’d like that.”
“Sounds like a plan… Sunday work?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, is it too much longer till we can carve the pumpkins? Gracie has been asking about it every day since we got them.”
She chuckled, “Sorry, I didn’t think about how impossible it must be to wait for something like that as a four-year-old. I think we could do it this Monday since it’s a holiday anyway.”
“Okay.” They started at each other for a moment as she took in his sweet soft expression. Then her eyes fell to the scarf he’d been clutching, that was bunched up in his large hand.
“You plan on holding onto that a little while longer?” She asked pointing at her scarf.
He shook his head then he put it around her neck. Crossing and tucking it in to her coat a little in a gesture she was fairly certain he didn’t even realize was sweet. So, before he stepped away, she reached up wrapping her arms around his neck, going up on her tip toes and gently tugging him for a soft gentle kiss.
He was smiling when she pulled back.
“Right, I was a little…flustered when I left your place. Your fault by the way.” She teased.
“I’m not sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be. You left my poor neck freezing for two days though.”
“I tried to return it yesterday. But you weren’t home. That reminds me, I ran into someone looking for you. I told him you weren’t around. He asked for you by your actual name and I… I wasn’t thinking so I told him there was no one by that name here.”
“Good.” She didn’t supply anymore information than that.
“I think it’s pretty. I’ve never heard the name before you.”
“You do? It’s an old family name, it’s after a Slavic goddess of the moon and forest. Sort of similar to the roman goddess Diana. But I didn’t like it as a kid.”
“The goddess of the forests and moon? I think it suits you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, can I call you that…sometimes?” As much as he liked the quirkiness of her nickname, he wanted to whisper her real name in her ear, hopefully, eventually, while he was pushing deeply inside her.
She thought for a moment. “Okay, yeah. If you like. But can you do me a favour? If anyone else comes around using that name… don’t tell them where I am, no one around here would ever call me that.”
The smile fell from Clint’s face. “Are you in trouble?”
“No, not exactly. Just… I don’t need people coming around ruining my little escape. I’d rather be alone in my little proverbial lighthouse here. Except for maybe you…and Gracie and Romi.”
Clint didn’t entirely buy that. But she seemed to not want to talk about somethings, and he could understand that. He even understood what she meant, this harbour did feel insulated from the rest of the world, especially at that time of year.
“Alright, well. I’m right next door, so if you ever do need me, call for me.”
“Thanks Clint.”
He turned to walk back up her driveway not wanting to take up too much of her day. But she called after him, “Oh… One more thing… just so you know, hunting season just kicked off, you’ll be fine around here, but if you go on any hikes or deeper in the forest, make sure you’ve got some sort of bright orange on.” She shot him a big grin as she started backing towards the log cottage, “You know, so no one mistakes you for a big turkey.”
See Next Part
AN: Devana (or Dziewanna) is a slavic the goddess of the hunt, forests, and wild nature. She is often associated with the moon, protecting wildlife, and the essence of nature. In Slavic tradition, she is revered as a guardian of the wilderness and was heavily featured in fertility festivals during spring.
You can call me like Owls, or Narcissus too (the later only if you know me from discord, which I doubt will happen). Technically Charlie is my OC, but I’ll still respond to it if it seems like they just mean me (plus he’s like basically a self insert). I was originally gonna like roleplay as him but I decided maybe my first time on tumblr probably shouldn’t be as a roleplay blog, but who knows maybe I will do that at some point. (If I do I will more than likely tag it as like #roleplay or something).
Uhhh He/They (subject to change)
Uhhh I’m kinda winging this idk what I’m supposed to include
Likes: There is No Antimemetics Division, Eldritch horror type things, Oreos, pretty much every general topic in Who Is Oliver McGuire (do you italize series?), Mythology, sfawtde and dawtde, Ultrakill
Dislikes: basically just specific people αssholes, poems (that one is a bit more satirical).
I tag most of my posts with “#I called into the void”
FULL VID UP ON YT!
https://youtu.be/VExGBhGKYNc
#Greekgods #Zeus #Hades #Poseidon #Hera #Greekmythology #Greekmyth #Greekhistory #mythology #Greece #ancientGreece #sketchcomedy #Greekcomedy #thanksgiving
A fantasy Cyclops race, but they're more closely related to merfolk and/or birdfolk than any other fantasy race/monster, by the virtue of the most famous in mythology being children of Poseidon (sea) or Uranus (sky).
There's two major factions of Cyclops' in Greek Mythos; those being Hesiod and Homeric.
Hesiod: Sons of Uranus and Gaia. Are the cool uncles of the Olympian gods. Master craftsmen and creators of a lot of divine weaponry. Good guys.
Homeric: Cave-man esque, Sheep herding, and/or man-eating sons of Poseidon. Typically Bad Guys.
Lesser known examples are the; Wall-Building Cyclops who were believed to be master builders that built up mountain-sized structures, and the Arimaspi - who were Black Sea horse riders that butted heads with Griffons.
Since many of the races in my worldbuild have ungulate/Artiodactyl traits, I wonder if the Cyclops people would have sheep traits (association with curly hair, sheep herding, irl sheep are often born with cycloptic eyes), equine traits (connection to Poseidon and horse-riding), or entirely aquatic mammalian traits due to their connection to the sea - giving them the traits of an Orca or toothed whales. Im leaning towards a mix of sheep and orca tbh.
