This journal is now retired! The new one is at kusani.

"What is that?"

The grey-furred Nila looked up, no expression crossing his flattened face. Yellow eyes sought the origin of the inquisitive voice, but the forest greenery was thick and concealing. He drew his brows low to express disapproval. "It is a drum," he answered flatly, four-fingered hands stilled on the wooden carving. He had been binding the head of the drum, made of Leasheas hide, to the mouth.

"What's a ... drum?" the voice asked, carefully pronouncing the new word. "What's it do?"

( 'A drum is this. It makes noise.' )

Vaguely relates to this storybit about white Korats.

( The dark creatures with their slender haunches and burly forelimbs had invaded less than two months ago... )

To be continued...

You think having an exciteable dog or a scratching cat is bad for your carpets? Try having a Koratian roommate.

Don't get me wrong. Zodelo is great and I couldn't really ask for a better roomie. He's a young black, about eighteen or nineteen by human years, so he tells me, which means he's four actual years old; he works at the local grain mill, threshing wheat and slicing things up with those claws of his, and so his hours supplement mine to afford us this little house.

But, after a week of living together, the formerly thick and plush carpets in my bedroom were shredded and uneven from him just stopping in to visit me. One week! The living room carpet had to be replaced with hardwood flooring, and now even that is beginning to show signs of scratches through the layers of varnish. It's kind of rare for Korats to live in a house with a non-dirt or non-grass floor, so I guess human technology hasn't had to compensate that much for the damage they do, even though they walk with their longclaws off the ground.

Vacuuming's fun, too. The mutilated strands of carpet - the longest ones - get caught in the machine sometimes, and I have to turn it off and manually haul it to a different section of the floor. The tile in the kitchen seems to be the most resistent to wear, having only one or two nicks in the whole floor, but tile's cold and I don't want it throughout the whole house. I don't like having to wear sandals or socks -all- the time. Especially when, well, Korats don't wear clothes, and so I feel a bit more free to just go around in shorts and nothing else. At least, in the house, when it's warm... people around here are still kinda conservative, when it comes to women not wearing shirts. Well, human women, at least - the other species, it's different, they usually don't have really prominent breasts when they aren't nursing.

Bah, that's a tangent. I was talking about living with Zodie. He's great, he really is. My parents were all upset with me when I didn't wanna share a house with my older sister when I moved out - man, she is so much like them, I might as well not move at all! But then I showed them Zodie and they relented a little. See, Mom works in the nursery, and every once in a while, some Korat cubs are orphaned - normally their parents get killed, sad stuff, man - and she gets to help raise them until they're adopted by foster parents. And Dad, well hell, he's a woodsman by trade, and so he works with Korats on a daily basis. Some humans regard living with Korats like living with really good guard dogs, but my parents actually think that Zodie'll have a really positive effect on my character or something.

Sigh, he probably will. He's a lot more responsible than I am about doing things that gotta be done - like getting to work on time. In an effort not to follow in Mom and Dad's footsteps too precisely, I decided I'd be a breadwinner by being a tailor. I've always kinda liked fashion, and I'm good with a needle and a loom, so already I'm starting to make a name for myself by coming up with some original designs. Even better, I remember hearing stories of P.S.T. Earth (pre-space-travel, you know) and how people there made their money, so I'm only making so many of a certain design before I say it's discontinued. I mean, granted, the fact that I'm working six hours a day - man, a full-time job, even though Zodie works too! - means that I can afford the house and the utilities and stuff, but the extra cash from the custom stuff is a nice treat for me and Zodie.

He hates when I call him Zodie, and it cracks me up. It's the only way I can get under his skin. I mean, he's a black, you know? Suave and collected, even if he is really a dork sometimes. But even when he's being silly, I get the feeling he's doing it deliberately - like he's purposefully letting himself be a goof, but he still knows how he looks to people, you know? It's weird, I mean, we humans can be really self-conscious sometimes, and we fret about how we look or sound or seem to other humans, but Korats, man, they just know. Well, blacks know. I don't think the other ones care as much. I couldn't imagine living with a red. Maybe a tan... they can be sweethearts. But, nah, Zodie's awesome.

Aw, shit, time for me to get to work. I almost forgot and Zodie just poked his muzzle in to give me That Look that he's so good at. Blasted blue eyes! He sure strikes a pose when he wants to.

Right, enough rambling... signing off for now.

~Saryandra L.

Something I did in 10-15 minutes. Korat fans might go 'yay'.



No pencils, just pen, so forgive mistakes in ... anything. It's just a sketch, no criticism needed... I can't do 3/4th shots on muzzles yet. He's trudging through snow, against a strong wind, and has his face a little turned away from the gusts.

I now have an HP printer-scanner-copier all-in-one. (It slices, it dices, it makes julienne fries!)

This means I get to make an art post when I haven't done one in literally years. =O

( Just three images, properly resized. )

<3.

Fek Omisa broke into a wide grin as the door to the meeting room buzzed - thank Ghrayu, an interruption! He and his two aides had been up to their elbows in paperwork for hours already, and he was dying for an excuse to stop staring at charts and lists. Fek stood swiftly and pressed his palm to the threshold. The door slid open, revealing a Korat tall enough to easily look the six-foot veteran in the eye.

Fek blinked as the Korat did, then the predator swept a deep bow that put natural Olashi grace to shame. The Simnohs inclined his head and torso shallowly in return, recognizing his new student after the momentary surprise wore off. Not many Korats in the fleet or academies, and this one was the only striped he'd ever seen around.

"Need something, fish?" he greeted gruffly, settling into the customary manner of a brusque and no-nonsense leader.

The blasted Korat dropped its jaw in a toothy grin, all unintentional insolence. "Just a message for you, Simnohs," it responded jovially, its command of Kalash as unaccented as his own. "Aelt dahns Januya jin Jekki and Kahni Jaemis are back from their previous mission and have docked here."

"Why the btsa didn't they report in?" Fek snapped, eartips flattening to his skull in annoyance. In a technological age of comunits and vidchats, a live messenger was not only unusual, but also superfluous.

The Korat tossed its head in a shrug. "I believe they tried, Simnohs, but when they ran into me in the halls, they hadn't heard from you."

Fek paused. He had turned his comunit off so that Tanra couldn't bug him about the pace of his work and how all of her other Simnohs had already turned theirs in. He snorted, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Likely excuse, from that pair. Well, I appreciate the message. Contact them and tell them I'll see them after they get some food and rest - later tonight."

Without missing a beat, the Korat bowed again. "Aye, Simnohs." It paused, then offered another cheeky grin. "I apologize for interrupting your work."

The Olashi glared. "Out with you, then, and stop interrupting!" He touched the threshold again to seal the doorway and turned back to the table. His aides were both smirking. "...not a word," he grumbled, taking his seat again and sighing at the checklist in front of him.

Well, it had been a brief interruption, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. And there was the promise of dealing with his two favorite delinquents later on.

Fek sighed again as he picked up his pen.

I have discovered, looking back on the past year of my creative writing, that I've not written a damn thing that hasn't been about Panthera or about World of Warcraft. There have been one or two exceptions, but barely a drop in the bucket.

I am disappointed in myself for lack of diversity and lack of quantity in my writing.

Time to rectify this.

( Dive in. )

'So.'

Earflick, pause.

'You can so easily change your colors? Just like your name, your species, your mood?'

Heavy muzzle turns, nostrils flare. Teal eyes narrow.

'So you think you're stronger, now that the gold is out of you. You think you're braver, without that pacifism.'

Snort. Black-rimmed lip twitches, briefly baring thick ivory fangs.

'You think you can really let yourself go? Hah! You think you can fight.'

Muzzle curls upwards now in a full-fledged, silent, snarl. Muscular tail flexes and swings to one side. Strong claws grip the soil as considerable weight shifts.

'You are fooling yourself, cub. You are not independent, or in the right, and you will never be strong enough to stand up for yo--ggrrgghh!'

One bound is all it takes to close the distance between predator and naysayer. Powerful jaws seal around the hairless throat, and bones crunch loudly.

The stain of freshly-spilled blood matches the red stripes that cross the coal black pelt.

Faded, teal-hued eyes crack open and squint against the fading rays of the red sunset. The foliage looks so strange--broad-leafed in blues and greens, towering trees holding up the very sky with their gargantuan might. The soil is black, rich and fertile--smells of thick loam and decaying greens. The light is so bright to eyes that have not been unlidded in too long; pupils shrink until the black dots are lost in a sea of river-color.

Muscles that were once corded and thick flex experimentally, more sinew and withered strength than aught else--but the long-limbed Korat rises smoothly enough, massive tail strangely heavy behind her. Thick, dense fur has lost its gloss and shine, but the colors are still strong--deep coal-black streaked with greygold. A striped.

Cisekar is groggy from her long sleep and stumbles as she takes the first few steps towards the sound of running water, blindly seeking the liquid to wet her parched throat. She finds the stream and plunges her muzzle into the current, drinking deeply and heedlessly. The icy fluid freezes her throat and then chest as it passes through her, and she shivers.

'Finally waking up?' The voice is deep, thunder-like, but calm. The once-pretty striped lifts teal eyes to regard an impressive red Korat, all muscle and strong beauty... and nods slowly.

'I think so,' she answers wanly, straightening and then sweeping a low bow. The male snorts, then studies her with dusky indigo eyes and jerks his muzzle in a beckoning motion.

'Then let's go. You've work to do.'

So I do...

Cisekar follows the burgundy-furred male as he turns.

Title-- The Korat Runs
Rating and Warnings-- G; no warnings.
Species and Characters-- Species = Korat. Char = random white.
Summary and Notes-- Wrote this at work in an attempt to ignore "language" and write via [brackets], yet still have a coherent "story". This is a very, very short ficlet, thus it is uncut. Comments would be appreciated, regarding the style.

--------------------
Korat. White. Long legs, strong body--ivory fur, green eyes, white claws, white blade.

Going north--life-smell. Beginning shrugs, grass--it's blue. Clouds hide sun and glow like the moons--beautiful, rosy. Patches of sky are thick and clear like a slice of amethyst. Ground is cold, thawing, and dark.

Paws on earth, rough pads, hard soil. Claws dig in--roots for the tree of the beast. Long pelt ripples in run-wind like still lake surface before a storm.

Pause, glance. Sensations--warmth, curiosity, stable ground, fearlessness. Beauty in the living ivory sculpture.

Running again, airborne smells and shifting shadows speaking with silent voices across new lands. No hesitation, no caution--they are hidden. Running strong, hard--so beautiful, so proud.

Twin emeralds--living eyes--search the clouded sky. Peace.

Invigoration, with the next breath. Primal love for life and self wells up in silky breast--

The Korat runs.

Title-- The Paths We Take
Rating and Warnings-- PG-13 for violence and gore.
Species and Characters-- Species = Korat. Characters, all whites, are pack leader Figi, her mate Reri, Figi's brother Foru, Figi's and Foru's mother Ejigi (who is not in the little pack, but a nearby loner), and Ashiki, a random male in the pack.
Summary and Notes-- I just... wanted to get closer to whites, and I'd never written anything in detail about their arctic cultures, although that's why whites are temperamentally how they are as a stereotype. So, this is the result, and I really like it. Warning--it's long and will be continued.

( 'I've never seen one that big...' )