do the moke-y cokey | charlie

[Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh]

a little closer to grace.

THE RESERVE HAD A VERY PEACEFUL CORNER OF time just after dawn. It had quickly become Bran's favourite time to be at work, the lull between handovers, when the morning apprentices began to filter in and out. Bran tended to take the awkward shifts, the kind that started about 11 at night, and rolled on to late morning. The kind that no specialist in their right mind would ever want. He never minded, always a little sleepless, he preferred to keep busy.

Pulling at his jumper, he was a mass of uncombed hair and grass stains. A chipped mug of black coffee in one hand, which he sipped as he lazily strolled between the paddocks and pens, craning his neck to check in on the particularly cautious cases as they slumbered. Bran's mouth had just found the rim of his mug when he almost snorted a scalding mouthful. He'd caught sight of a particularly determined Moke shrinking itself down and trying to weasel past the smallest gap in the enclosure wards.

Bran trotted across the gravel pathway, his mug precariously balanced in one hand as he retrieved his wand from his pocket. "Right, mate, good effort!" He laughed quietly, casting a gentle re-enforcement spell on the wards before he carefully put his hand inside. With a delicate thumb and forefinger, Bran extracted the lizard from the fence and dropped it back onto the grassy grounds of its nest. Unfortunately, at the same time he had breached the ward, another miniscule Moke had latched itself onto the sleeve of his jumper.

"For Saint's-sake!" Bran huffed, though he'd begun grinning in earnest. "Well, now I'm going to have to put down my coffee." He told the lizard, its damaged tail waving valiantly as it attempted to use Bran as the perfect escape. He watched as the whole nest of them seemed to take heed and run towards the warded fencing. They were a motley crew of Moke's, having caught a terrible wasting virus which had killed a great many of those in the area they were rescued from. Bran had hand-fed a few personally in their recovery. "I feel like you're taking the mick now," He addressed the crew, each licking their eyes and staring at him with an odd, reptilian intelligence. Blindly, Bran set his mug down on the ground to use both hands, but he was in no great hurry as the morning yawned towards him. 

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Researching and rehabilitating animals, and magical creatures in particular, was about as exhaustingly rewarding as Charlie had anticipated. Maybe a smidge more for good measure, only because she had an unwavering energy when it came to her net career. The ability to power on through the longest nights of medical treatment were so unbelievably rewarding when they worked out, and she wasn't even the one usually doing the heavy lifting. But she sure as Merlin was doing a ton of running around the facility to gather whatever the experts and veterinarians needed. Each step was taken with the understanding that she was learning something from it, whether verbally from the employees or by watching. Her desire to work with dragons and larger lizard-like creatures was a dangerous path to take too early, and she viewed her job here as the best way to ease herself into it. Occasionally they ended up with dragon eggs, and each time they hatched was as captivating as the last.

This morning's shift, or evening's since that was what she was technically on, was coming to a close soon. There weren't really any incidents to make note of through the early hours, making it a rather peaceful sort of boring. Charlie had to constantly remind herself that it was a good thing she wasn't doing a ton of work, because the alternative was a sick or injured animal needed treatment. Too many touch and go nights in a row could grow on a person. Having a 'slow' shift like today was absolutely acceptable. The real trick was trying to keep awake when this happened though. Charlie disliked pounding coffee during the night shifts but sometimes it was inevitable. That and a lot of walking around the facility. Getting her steps in was merely part of the job and yet she often times tripled what she needed in a day because it kept her awake and moving.

That was what she was doing when she stepped outside and observed a very strange scene: Bran and the group of moke doing a dance of sorts. They were a wild crew (Bran included in that), always attempting to jettison into other parts of the facility if given the chance. Not today it seemed, as they had pooled at one particular point in the protective ward and were unable to proceed further. "Need any help?" Charlie called to him from across the yard as he set something down to work with the lizards.

Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh ● 414 ● Song by Artist

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[Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh]

a little closer to grace.

THERE WERE FOUR MOKE'S STUBBORNLY hanging on to Bran's jumper sleeve. He didn't shake them loose, laughing quietly as he felt one nose under the hem and cling to the skin of his wrist. Very patiently, he lay his coffee down and began attempting to dislodge them one at a time. It was as he placed the first down on to the nest that he heard the soft, accented voice call his name from somewhere over his shoulder. American, with a lazy sort of drawl he'd become somewhat familiar with in passing.

"Ah!" Bran crowed, craning his neck over one shoulder to catch the long, languid approach of the trainee. "I wouldn't mind it," He huffed an exasperated laugh. After Bran's return from overseas he'd come to find quite a few transplants settling in his old haunts. Charlie was one of them, a sunny sort of girl who seemed utterly unflappable. A hopeful researcher who often took the undesirable shifts alongside him. She was keen learner, and quick to the draw as she sidled up beside him.

"They're sneaky fellows," He mused aloud, feeling the aspiring moke make its way up to the crook of his elbow under his jumper. "I reckon they can sense when we're doing handovers, ya know." He yawned reluctantly, hiding it in the shoulder of his ragged jumper as he felt an inspiring moke tongue jab his callused thumb. "No- not food, mokey-!" Alas, the moke's lizard mouth engulfed Bran's thumb in a brave, gummy bite. He sighed heavily, his tall body still hunched over the fence. This, evidently, was not the first time this had happened to Bran. 

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The trick to working with the moke was that they could shrink at will – which made capture and handling of them rather difficult. Luckily the ones that lived here were well adjusted to humans, preferring to view them as a fleshy jungle gym of sorts (and the occasional snack in the case of Bran here). Charlie, luckily, had a knack for reptiles. Her handling of her python and the capture and rescue of small lizards over the years had led her to figure out various and gentle ways of dealing with her out of control reptilian friends. The moke were no exception despite being slightly more elusive than the average mundane lizard.

Bran accepted her assistance and Charlie immediately rolled up the sleeves of her shirt into a tight bind at her elbows. If they were going diving up shirts and jackets, then she needed to be prepared. “And here I thought they liked me. They’ve certainly taken a liking to you,” she grinned as she located the first moke that was still managing to hang off of the sleeve of Bran’s sweater. It started to immediately shrink when she wrapped her hands around its torso, causing Charlie to gently close her fingers so as to contain it. In her experience, the moke were fine once they realized they were being set elsewhere, and she could already feel the squirming stop as she walked towards a nearby rock to set it down. By the afternoon they would all be over here anyways, trying to get the remainder of the day’s sunlight.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. I found one in the staff kitchen just the other day. Had no idea how it got there.” Charlie returned to pluck the second moke up. If this was any indication, the one she’d found probably hitched a ride just like this. It could have been on any of them. “That one might take some coaxing to get out,” she commented as she added the second moke next to the first. They seemed to be happy with the rock already.

Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh ● 348 ● Song by Artist

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[Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh]

a little closer to grace.

IT WAS QUITE A NICE CHANGE OF PACE TO BE aided so readily. Bran grinned gratefully as he watched the trainee roll up her sleeves - she clearly meant business. In the meantime, he gently pressed on the aspiring moke's unhinged jaw. Bran had done much of his studies frightfully alone. Though he had the company of Master Magizoologist while learning, it had always been a solitary venture. A lot of his time was spent in introspection, in ancient texts, around creatures that didn't quite speak his language. To have 'co-workers' was a brand new concept for Bran. He enjoyed it, even if it didn't come naturally to him.

"Ah- I'm just tall!" He exclaimed, laughing merrily as Charlie pried the first moke that was edging up the sleeve of his jumper. "They see an opportunity... they seize it." He declared, finally freeing his thumb from the moke's sticky jaws. His nose wrinkled, but he bore no ill feelings as he promptly placed it back on the ground and pulled away. The last had already wiggled up his jumper sleeve and was digging its claws into the fleshy part of his armpit. Bran reached into his pockets, rifling around for quite some time before he finally found what he was looking for.

"I find, if all else fails," He began, almost giddy in his explanation as he presented a small glass vial with a clear liquid inside. "A little bit of peppermint oil will surely smoke them out." He pulled the stopper free and splashed his jumper with the potent, minty scent. There was a pause, a scratch and finally a mokey head scuttled its way down Bran's arm and squeezed free of his jumper. Repelled quite effectively by the pungent essence. Most reptiles disliked peppermint, but the moke's despised it especially.

Bran plucked it easily from his wrist and deposited it back onto the rock Charlie had favoured. He brushed his hands off with a relieved sigh. It was truly a typical morning at the sanctuary, but he was glad it was over without injury. Though, a look at his thumb found it tacky with reptilian saliva. He wiped it discreetly on his trousers. "Did you really find one in the kitchen?" He asked her curiously, a twinkle in his eye. 

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NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

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The moke were more chameleon-like than Charlie had ever realized, climbing all over Bran like the human-shaped tree he was. They were harmless though and meant nothing of it. Their inquisitive nature obviously led them towards trouble frequently, but it was never anything the facility couldn’t deal with. As long as they stayed away from the baby dragons and other dangerous creatures, they’d live nice, long lives here.

Watching Bran pull out a small vial, which he declared was peppermint oil, she stepped away from him. Knowing the lizards, any that remained would come shooting out the second he let the liquid loose. And Merlin was she right. The final one popped out of his sleeve and was instantly captured. She realized then that they should have just done that to begin with. It would have been momentarily hectic, but nothing the two of them couldn’t handle. The scent of peppermint, while powerful and slightly overbearing, wasn’t the worse thing in the world. She’d had far nastier smells hit her nose today already.

”Swear on my python’s life I did. It was curled up next to that toaster. You know, the one that only toasts half of the left slice?” They all had magic, and none of them had managed to fix it yet. The idea that they allowed themselves to have half a slice of actual toast was preposterous. The right side only left a warm tinge on a good day, and the worst she’d seen was the whole unit catching fire. Twice. But it persisted, and they had yet to replace it. ”Anyways, my theory is someone unknowingly brought it in. Doesn’t seem all that difficult considering what they just did to you.”

Catching a yawn behind her hand, she blinked back the tiredness that was starting to wander into her. ”Need any help with anything else? I’ve got-“ Charlie paused to check her watch. ”An hour left until I’m off for the next couple of days.” It was like a weekend of sorts. Just in the middle of the week and never the same from week to week. But this was her chosen line of work, so she had no reason to complain.

Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh ● 366 ● Song by Artist

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh]

a little closer to grace.

LIFTING HIS BROWS, BRAN COULDN'T HELP BUT snort as Charlie lifted up both hands palms facing. Swearing down on her pythons life. Bran wondered idly if this was some kind of American turn of phrase, but decided it was likely not. "Python...?" He asked, unable to help himself. "What kind?" He was a zoologist at heart, no doubt about it. Pulling down the frayed sleeves of his jumper and pulling forth his wand with a deft flick of his wrist. As he listened, he reenforced the protection charms over the enclosure, though the mokey's could gnaw away at it like a crup with a bone, it was better than nothing.

Once reenforced, Bran tucked his wand away and gave the mokey's a very stern look as he eyed them over the fence. They looked terribly unperturbed and not at all sorry. "Stay." He told them firmly, unable to stop the grin that overtook his face as he did. "Right, that'll do for now, I s'ppose." He retrieved his abandoned coffee cup and frowned at the cold skin that had started to form along the top. The outside ceramic frightfully chilly now that it had been left to the elements. He lifted his head and gave Charlie a helpless shrug. "Wouldn't put it past 'em, they're right tricky."

Bran couldn't help his mirroring yawn, hiding it against his arm as he blinked sleep from his eyes and shook his head lazily. "'Bout sorted for now," He told her, commiserating with that watery eyed tiredness. "I'm probably going to head in, have my last coffee and update a few careplans for over the weekend." Boring, busy work. The sort of paperwork he sidelined for fieldwork, but that he unfortunately had to come back around to eventually. "Anything I can help you with?" He asked with an encouraging smile, Bran wasn't a natural teacher, but he was trying.

"Are you doing anything while you're gone?" Bran asked into the misty morning air, both of their treads leading them through the paddocks and pens toward the nifty little office building they all shared. It wasn't a particularly rushed affair, dodging the add rounding crup and early morning trainers pulling feed with their wands toward the back pens to start their morning rounds. It was a terribly peaceful place, at times. Bran was even starting to feel a bit settled, which never usually happened. He enjoyed it while it lasted. 

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