The White Ash of Snow

Ralla · 04-06-2011, 07:35 PM

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Please, pp Ralla as much as you think is necessary. I think that beating around the bush too much makes the thread unnecessarily longer, and I definitely trust you to know how Ralla would respond to certain things >_>

Oh, Valinta, Ralla thought with some recollection of their talk regarding the same. Ralla didn't think that J'adore would ever leave the tribe, but Princess had mentioned 'future mate'. In Ralla's mind this presented a problem for, well...politically correct issues. Was it Valinta's intention to come to AniWaya? Not that she would mind, but she had thought the black woman quite content in Cercatori D'Arte. Perhaps that had not been the case. Her ears pricked up high in excitement when Princess then expressed spreading the tribe's stories. She was no religious preacher, but she was very firm in her belief that the spirits and elements were not respected or known enough. Granted she would not force her beliefs on another--never, because that would be hypocritical--but she learned to love other religions as well, if not only because she took their good morals and found they incorporated very well into what she already believed in. In truth, most of the stories she knew were almost interconnected at the roots; just one or two differences, or even things as trivial as names, separating them from being one.

Ralla nodded her head, the tooth and claw necklaces about her neck clacking together a little, as she listened and affirmed when Princess asked the occasional question. So there was both the social and duty ranks? Ralla saw this as more complicated than it need be--after all, the duties and the rank in the tier supported their system--but she was still, in this, not one to judge. Diversity is what made their world so great, after all. "Story-telling is wonderful," she sighed, happiness seeping in her voice. "They're everything we've ever known, and they're like their own worlds. Oh! That's a story I can tell you," she said with sudden fervor. With all the songs and stories in her head it was a wonder she could keep them all straight anyhow, or that her head was still normal sized. "It's called 'Within', and it's an old story that I would like to tell the tribe one day."

"Once there was a man and a woman," she began, looking kindly onto Princess, to Sugar, and then to the trees, the words flowing from her like silk. "The two were happy in their village, although the man was covetous of his neighbors and their many skills. One neighbor was strong as an ox, another as brave as a wolf. One was swift as a rabbit, and another as wise as an owl. One day the man prayed to the Great Spirits for all these gifts, but the Great Spirits scorned him. Not understanding why they refused him, the man scorned them back. In anger the Great Spirits cursed the man, saying: 'You shall forevermore be able to see what is truly inside the people around you and yourself, and all things that you say are empty, and you shall never be satisfied.' Thereafter the man could eat and eat and never be full. He could talk and talk and never would anyone believe his words. One day while looking into water he saw a little inside his throat, and instead of flesh he saw black nothingness. Terrified he went to his wife, but when she spoke there was also no flesh, but instead light. Looking inside each of his neighbors' mouths, he saw the same within each of them; within their throats was the universe, and every star and planet." She thought to herself, for a moment, how it would be to look down the throat of another and see the universe. How it would be to have infinite possibilities within one's self? "The man was scorned because he did not realize that within each every creature there exists power enough to challenge the universe, and so the Great Spirits were angry that he could not see this. Please, tell me a story of your own, Princess. Once I learn how to write properly, I'll record it and pass it down as well." She smiled brightly, then. Songs and lore always made her feel euphoric, as if all life revolved around the tale for the time it existed on the tips of tongues and in the hands of sound.

Moon walks. "Moon talks." Moon thinks.

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