08-06-2008, 12:23 PM
OOC: *loves on to death* Sorry if this seems a bit choppy, I keep getting interrupted by customers today. 
[html]
It had been a fruitful night. Kol had spent the majority of it back in the territory of Halifax, and her leather satchel was once again weighted down by a myriad of texts and one large, blank journal. The diary's unlined pages were still supple enough to be used, and the Stormbringer had pilfered a few pens and pencils from the city as well, thankful that her clan knew how to write as well as read in at least five languages, collectively. Kol herself knew only two: her clan's native Norse and the human language of English that seemed to be known now as Common. It seemed to be the language in which most of the books in Kol's little library had been penned, for which she was thankful. It meant that she could concentrate more on the content of the pieces than on deciphering what they said.
False dawn had found the Stormbringer in one of her favorite places: a small, relatively sturdy pier jutting out in the eastern ocean from the sands of the Quartz Shoreline. She sat indian-style in her fully shifted optime form, pencil in hand, journal in her lap. The growing light as the sun began making its ascent over the eastern horizon helped illuminate her writing and glinted off the silver earring set in her right ear. A distant wind barely stirred the sands of the shoreline, and brought with it the salty taste of the powerful sea. It would prove to be a beautiful day, and Kol was happy to be able to welcome it.
Violet eyes flicked back and forth between the rising sun and the pages in her lap, her pencil moving steadily at the direction of her mind and eyes. All of her family knew how to write, but what Kol enjoyed most of all was art. More often than not the young shewolf had described things with pictures and sketches rather than words, and her mother and grandparents had encouraged her talents. She'd been unable to find any colored utensils yet in her searches amongst the human ruins, but she posessed a decent collection of pencils and pens with which to work. Her growing black and white picture of the sunrise was hardly as impressive as the real thing, especially when lacking the brilliant hues her eyes took in, but she had wanted to capture something of it nonetheless. So engrossed was she that she never even noticed the other black figure that had wandered onto her little sanctuary.
Table by Tay
[html]
It had been a fruitful night. Kol had spent the majority of it back in the territory of Halifax, and her leather satchel was once again weighted down by a myriad of texts and one large, blank journal. The diary's unlined pages were still supple enough to be used, and the Stormbringer had pilfered a few pens and pencils from the city as well, thankful that her clan knew how to write as well as read in at least five languages, collectively. Kol herself knew only two: her clan's native Norse and the human language of English that seemed to be known now as Common. It seemed to be the language in which most of the books in Kol's little library had been penned, for which she was thankful. It meant that she could concentrate more on the content of the pieces than on deciphering what they said.
False dawn had found the Stormbringer in one of her favorite places: a small, relatively sturdy pier jutting out in the eastern ocean from the sands of the Quartz Shoreline. She sat indian-style in her fully shifted optime form, pencil in hand, journal in her lap. The growing light as the sun began making its ascent over the eastern horizon helped illuminate her writing and glinted off the silver earring set in her right ear. A distant wind barely stirred the sands of the shoreline, and brought with it the salty taste of the powerful sea. It would prove to be a beautiful day, and Kol was happy to be able to welcome it.
Violet eyes flicked back and forth between the rising sun and the pages in her lap, her pencil moving steadily at the direction of her mind and eyes. All of her family knew how to write, but what Kol enjoyed most of all was art. More often than not the young shewolf had described things with pictures and sketches rather than words, and her mother and grandparents had encouraged her talents. She'd been unable to find any colored utensils yet in her searches amongst the human ruins, but she posessed a decent collection of pencils and pens with which to work. Her growing black and white picture of the sunrise was hardly as impressive as the real thing, especially when lacking the brilliant hues her eyes took in, but she had wanted to capture something of it nonetheless. So engrossed was she that she never even noticed the other black figure that had wandered onto her little sanctuary.
Table by Tay