12-13-2008, 02:11 AM
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Winking was now on his list of things to practice and the motley trio were settling down to enjoy this Peter Pan book. Salem almost asked what kind of boy would never want to grow up, but couldn't exactly find the words to say it. That was only because he was searching for a place to be right up with the action too and seeing how Haven took a spot wedged between Geneva's arm and side, he thought front and centre would work out the best. So he climbed up and over one of her legs, and promptly sat between her legs for the prime seat in front of all of the words.
Not that he could read them yet, of course. Curled up in the same manner as a cat would in the lap of its owner, his puppy-blue eyes scanned over the scripture that looked nothing more than artful scribbles. While Geneva smelt like home and of all things good, the book smelled of time; worn, dusty, and stale. As for the story within, there was little to doubt his curiosity of about mermaids, pirates, and pixies. What kind of creatures were they? How did they live, and what were their contributions to this story about a boy who never aged and grew up? His mind teemed with questions already, and Geneva hadn't even begun to tell them the story!
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knowledge locked in a tower — barons will hold the key
Winking was now on his list of things to practice and the motley trio were settling down to enjoy this Peter Pan book. Salem almost asked what kind of boy would never want to grow up, but couldn't exactly find the words to say it. That was only because he was searching for a place to be right up with the action too and seeing how Haven took a spot wedged between Geneva's arm and side, he thought front and centre would work out the best. So he climbed up and over one of her legs, and promptly sat between her legs for the prime seat in front of all of the words.
Not that he could read them yet, of course. Curled up in the same manner as a cat would in the lap of its owner, his puppy-blue eyes scanned over the scripture that looked nothing more than artful scribbles. While Geneva smelt like home and of all things good, the book smelled of time; worn, dusty, and stale. As for the story within, there was little to doubt his curiosity of about mermaids, pirates, and pixies. What kind of creatures were they? How did they live, and what were their contributions to this story about a boy who never aged and grew up? His mind teemed with questions already, and Geneva hadn't even begun to tell them the story!
but if knowledge is power — know this is tyranny