oom: amarillo, tx - for yrael

[scurlock]

True to his word, he's downstairs early, with his bag packed and his gun at his hip. He's ready to head back out to Amarillo, and this time he's taking along a guest for a bit of the ride.

At breakfast, he orders himself bacon and eggs, coffee, and a dish of cream. The first three are for himself. The latter is placed beside him on the bartop.

He figures Yrael has cream-sensing senses no matter what form he's in, so it seemed the quickest way to find him.

Comments

[scurlock]

"What's the Old Kingdom like?"

Plus, with something so active and always-on-the-go, he doubts they've got much fat on them.

[mogget_cat]

"Greener," Yrael answers between bites, amused. "But that wouldn't be hard to do. Mostly forest and grassland, towns and villages. The southern boundary is the Wall between the Old Kingdom and Ancellstierre, the northern boundary the Clayr's glacier. Though there are hills of varying size, the only real peak is Mount Aunden, south of the capital."

[scurlock]

He nods slightly.

"And that's your...where you're from, originally?" He's not sure where 'home' is, and it can be a touchy subject with some people.

A glance around the desert.

"And it wouldn't be much to get this place greener, just some solid rain. Y'get wildflowers, come spring."

[mogget_cat]

"Originally enough, at least. I was before it was," he says, ignoring the feathers that are getting stuck in his fur.

"You wouldn't know it to look at it," Yrael murmurs, looking around at the desert scrub.

"The Old Kingdom's climate reminds me much of that we get at Milliways, though it is a bit warmer in general. Perhaps the Old Kingdom is like southern Scotland, then."

[scurlock]

"I've never been to Scotland," he comments. "My old boss from was England, though."

So was Kate's dad.

He shifts a little in the saddle, not making mention of the feathers weaving their way into Yrael's fur. Professional courtesy and all. He shakes his head.

"Monsoon season in the summer, but really, it's just hot."

[mogget_cat]

"Prefer the hot to the wet," he says, making a face. There's red on his whiskers, but it will be dealt with, soon, as he settles down to see to his face and paws.

"I've visited Scotland a few times. To the place the outdoors at Milliways is modeled after, in fact. Had a friend who taught at the school, there, but she no longer comes to the bar."

[scurlock]

"So it's modeled after an actual place. Huh...that must be a helluva place."

Obviously 'modeled' means there are differences. Given the end of the universe and all? It's not surprising. Doc smiles slightly. "And I'll take the desert over anything myself, one thin I didn't like about bein' back east, in New York, was that it snowed."

[mogget_cat]

"Snow can be fun," he allows, after a moment of whisker-cleaning, "if one knows how to take advantage of it."

He purrs, amused. "It is lovely as camouflage."

[scurlock]

He laughs at that.

"So long as you're a white cat," he says. "Otherwise you'd just be a target."

[mogget_cat]

"True, true," he mwrrs. "Pity for them that the demon rabbits do not have winter coats, but stay red through the year."

Yrael stretches, yawning, and wanders back up towards Doc. "Forgive the detour. It was rather... distracting."

Roadrunner. He'll have to remember that.

[scurlock]

"Don't mind at all."

And the horse, well, he might have minded a bit but that doesn't really matter.

"You want to look for that rock, now?"

[mogget_cat]

"Sounds like a good plan," smiles the not'cat.

[scurlock]

He lifts himself up in the saddle, turning Cortez in a neat, 360 degree circle with a gentle touch of the reins. Once he sits again, he changes their direction.

"C'mon," he clicks to the animal, nudging him off. "Let's go this way, awhile."

[mogget_cat]

"All right," he replies, following. It's an odd pace, for Yrael, being somewhere between a swift slink, a trot, and a slow lope, but he manages. He doesn't really want to scare the horse too much, so he keeps the lopes to a minimum, and keeps within the horse's peripheral vision.

Herbivores like being able to keep an eye on any predators nearby, he knows.

Their path is vaguely downhill, and eventually, they come to a winding, rocky path that marks a dry stream bed.

"It would take more than a little rain to do this stream any good," Yrael says, sniffing briefly at the rocks. "What water there is, flows underground."