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fandomhigh2017-11-29 12:09 am
livingartifact) wrote in fandomhigh2017-11-29 12:09 am
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Introduction to Earth Zoology, Wednesday, period 1
"Welcome back, class," Jenkins said, setting aside a thick, half-eaten sandwich as class began. "I see you all survived your holiday weekends, with or without the turkey attacks. I hope you all enjoyed yourselves at least a little last week — a few of you seemed champing at the bit for a little action."
Yang.
"This week we shall learn about an animal who may look much more fearsome than your average turkey, but who has a reputation for rather a milder temperament. This critter, in fact, holds such renown in many European cultures that it features in many of their stories of how the Earth came to be created. The ancient gods could be quite silly and fallible, you see — still are, in fact — and it took a prickly little critters with wisdom and a good sense of humor to keep them from murdering us all." He got a bit of a faraway look in his eye at that, picturing the events of last year. "Which . . . again, remains true, as far as gods are concerned."
The Librarians would probably be put out to be described as "prickly little critters" — at least Stone would, Cassandra would probably be amused and Ezekiel would have wandered off by now to find something to steal — but it had taken both wisdom and a sense of humor — dry, ironic, and somewhat horrific humor — to take down Apep.
Jenkins cleared his throat. "Anyway, I digress. Our animal of the week!" He lifted a cardboard box onto the table, lifted the top off, and gently picked up what appeared to be an angry pincushion. "Meet the hedgehog." He set it carefully on the table, and after a moment, the ball flexed, and a pointed little nose peeked out, scenting the air. A full brow of quills lifted to reveal a furred muzzle and dark, curious eyes, then startlingly long, twig-thin legs as it reared up to better scent the air. Then made a beeline straight for Jenkins' sandwich, stealing an onion and digging in with tiny, pointed teeth. "I suppose I asked for that," Jenkins said with a sigh, and moved his sandwich to another, less populated, table.
"Hedgehogs are common garden creatures in Europe and Africa, and feature prominently in many children's stories from those region, but they are better known to most Americans either as pets or extremely quick blue creatures that horde rings." What? Just because Jenkins had spent centuries avoiding people didn't mean he couldn't at least know some video games! "Though folklore describes them as living on mushrooms and apples, they are in fact insectivores, a fact our little chum here appears to have forgotten." The hedgehog finished tearing through the onion and began exploring the table again, leaving mashed bits and onion juice in its wake. "What folk culture has neglected to spread around, though, is that these little critters are able to survive most known toxins. Chemicals that could bring down entire armies of humans a hedgehog can simply shrug off. As a matter of fact, when hedgehogs encounter substances they believe may be toxic to other creatures, they will — ah, there he goes." The hedgehog on the table had begun to foam-up around the mouth, and was doing quite impressive feats of contortion in order to lick said foam all over his quills. "Self-annoint," Jenkins continued. "Licking the suspected toxin all over themselves in order to ward off — or punish — potential predators."
The now thoroughly-onioned hedgehog looked quite pleased with himself. Or perhaps that was simply anthropomorphic projection.
"A filthy habit, but quite useful. You can see where the stories of their wisdom and, ah, passive-aggression come from." Jenkins gave the little onioned hedgehog a pointed look, then returned to the box. "Luckily for you all, I have several more animals in here who have not coated themselves in onion juice." He began lifting out a number of other hedgehogs, setting each on the table curled down, so they could unroll easily onto their feet and go exploring. "They're little daredevils and may well pitch themselves off the edge of the table if you don't keep an eye on them. These in particular are reasonably well socialized, and will likely let you pet them, which you can do quite comfortably when they're relaxed. It's only when they tense and ball up that the quills get particularly pointy." He demonstrated by gently teasing the onioned hedgehog with his finger, until it hissed in little snorts and dropped its quill brow low over its forehead, setting all its other quills standing on end, then let it relax again and gently stroked between its ears. "And do remember to thank them for reminding the gods that most organics need water and dirt to survive."
Yang.
"This week we shall learn about an animal who may look much more fearsome than your average turkey, but who has a reputation for rather a milder temperament. This critter, in fact, holds such renown in many European cultures that it features in many of their stories of how the Earth came to be created. The ancient gods could be quite silly and fallible, you see — still are, in fact — and it took a prickly little critters with wisdom and a good sense of humor to keep them from murdering us all." He got a bit of a faraway look in his eye at that, picturing the events of last year. "Which . . . again, remains true, as far as gods are concerned."
The Librarians would probably be put out to be described as "prickly little critters" — at least Stone would, Cassandra would probably be amused and Ezekiel would have wandered off by now to find something to steal — but it had taken both wisdom and a sense of humor — dry, ironic, and somewhat horrific humor — to take down Apep.
Jenkins cleared his throat. "Anyway, I digress. Our animal of the week!" He lifted a cardboard box onto the table, lifted the top off, and gently picked up what appeared to be an angry pincushion. "Meet the hedgehog." He set it carefully on the table, and after a moment, the ball flexed, and a pointed little nose peeked out, scenting the air. A full brow of quills lifted to reveal a furred muzzle and dark, curious eyes, then startlingly long, twig-thin legs as it reared up to better scent the air. Then made a beeline straight for Jenkins' sandwich, stealing an onion and digging in with tiny, pointed teeth. "I suppose I asked for that," Jenkins said with a sigh, and moved his sandwich to another, less populated, table.
"Hedgehogs are common garden creatures in Europe and Africa, and feature prominently in many children's stories from those region, but they are better known to most Americans either as pets or extremely quick blue creatures that horde rings." What? Just because Jenkins had spent centuries avoiding people didn't mean he couldn't at least know some video games! "Though folklore describes them as living on mushrooms and apples, they are in fact insectivores, a fact our little chum here appears to have forgotten." The hedgehog finished tearing through the onion and began exploring the table again, leaving mashed bits and onion juice in its wake. "What folk culture has neglected to spread around, though, is that these little critters are able to survive most known toxins. Chemicals that could bring down entire armies of humans a hedgehog can simply shrug off. As a matter of fact, when hedgehogs encounter substances they believe may be toxic to other creatures, they will — ah, there he goes." The hedgehog on the table had begun to foam-up around the mouth, and was doing quite impressive feats of contortion in order to lick said foam all over his quills. "Self-annoint," Jenkins continued. "Licking the suspected toxin all over themselves in order to ward off — or punish — potential predators."
The now thoroughly-onioned hedgehog looked quite pleased with himself. Or perhaps that was simply anthropomorphic projection.
"A filthy habit, but quite useful. You can see where the stories of their wisdom and, ah, passive-aggression come from." Jenkins gave the little onioned hedgehog a pointed look, then returned to the box. "Luckily for you all, I have several more animals in here who have not coated themselves in onion juice." He began lifting out a number of other hedgehogs, setting each on the table curled down, so they could unroll easily onto their feet and go exploring. "They're little daredevils and may well pitch themselves off the edge of the table if you don't keep an eye on them. These in particular are reasonably well socialized, and will likely let you pet them, which you can do quite comfortably when they're relaxed. It's only when they tense and ball up that the quills get particularly pointy." He demonstrated by gently teasing the onioned hedgehog with his finger, until it hissed in little snorts and dropped its quill brow low over its forehead, setting all its other quills standing on end, then let it relax again and gently stroked between its ears. "And do remember to thank them for reminding the gods that most organics need water and dirt to survive."
Re: Oogle the animal
"Weird . . . spit. Interesting." Jenkins frowned. "I presume you don't mean he's venomous."
Re: Oogle the animal
"I think he's the opposite."
Pumpkin was definitely doing better than your average pumpkin, after all.
Re: Oogle the animal
Sure, from the perspective of animate beings.
"Fascinating." Jenkins wiggled his fingers at Pumpkin. "I gather he must be very careful where he spits."
Re: Oogle the animal
She'd seen him spit on things in failed attempts to repair them, so she'd never been impressed enough to care. And then Pumpkin had happened, and... well. She'd been distracted by Pumpkin.
Re: Oogle the animal
Which was absolutely fair.
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to put this delightful pet through a couple simple tests?" Jenkins asked. "Nothing invasive, I promise."
Much as he'd love to learn whether or not an animate pumpkin could heal itself, he was pretty sure Peridot wouldn't want him taking any physical samples, for instance.
Re: Oogle the animal
"What sort of tests, then?"
Re: Oogle the animal
"A basic physical survey should suffice to start, I think. Reflexes, strength tests, listening to her . . . well, whatever she may or may not have inside her to help power her mobility. I rather suspect she's not made of hard light, like yourself, nor does she appear to be made of a collection unwalled eukaryotic cells, like myself and other members of the animal kingdom."
Re: Oogle the animal
"What do you think? Do you want to help us do some science?"
It was a good thing Pumpkin was enthusiastic about pretty much everything. The bark and wiggle she gave in reply basically said it all.
Re: Oogle the animal
"Excellent. I'll look forward to it."
Re: Oogle the animal
Re: Oogle the animal
"If you are able to acquire any of your friend Steven's saliva, that could be useful. But otherwise, not at all. Just swing by the shop when you two have a chance."
Re: Oogle the animal
"I'll ask Steven if that's possible," she replied. "But either way, I'll be there."
Sorry, guys. Steven wasn't going to surrender his healing spit just for your weird science.