01-07-2010, 08:23 PM
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Word Count: 646 - SoSuWriMo He looked up as sounds of displeasure came from her, but he did no quite understand what he might have done to make her annoyed. Was it his joke? Perhaps. Sometimes strangers misunderstood each other. Studying her for a short moment he gave himself a mental shrug and continued his work in silence, though no sign was given her on the outside. If she wished to behave in a strange manner towards someone who offered her shelter and the warmth of a fire, it was not his business. Though, if she did continue to display her displeasure, he would certainly ask her for an explanation. Leaving the subject be, he let his eyes stay on the work he was doing. The rope he had brought along proved just long enough for him to finish his frame without having to cut it into individual pieces for individual lashings, and he was glad. Every time he cut rope he felt a little sting inside of him, because he knew how much time it took to make them, even if they were such ordinary things. He had made many a rope that was available for use in the stables, and many for himself. His tongue came out of his mouth and the tip twisted upwards a little as he concentrated on getting that last knot right; he had only a few inches to tie it on, and his fingers were growing cold from the inhospitable weather. When he finished, he glanced at the femme, who had moved to sit closer to him, and who was studying him in silence. The frame now fastened properly to the vegetation around, he rolled out the big mat of skins over it, making a solid roof with space for two. Smiling, he looked at his new acquaintance. "Like it?" Either way, he was quite satisfied. He sat a moment, and just as he had decided to get up and start to work on a fire she spoke to him, and now he looked at her. Indeed, it was as if he had thought. She had perhaps never really seen a shifted person in action before, not like this; not one who lived like this and in a way that was what some would call "unnatural". At least, this was the word many had used to describe him when he had traveled, and some visitors to the tribe seemed to share this opinion. Unnatural or not, Dawali believed it was not unnatural to want to improve one's comfort, and he gladly accepted the gift of hands — and was not afraid to wield it. Smiling, one hand grabbed a braid and pulled it forward and towards her, so she could see it better. "It is part decoration, part display of rank and belonging. I have braided them and decorated them with my hands, look — you can see that it is a normal mane, but woven." Pausing, he searched for a moment, and found one braid with eagle feathers attached to it. "These feathers, for example, serve a purpose; they tell my tribesmembers that I am their Chief. I haven't seen others do this outside of our tribe, but many Luperci tend to their manes and decorate them with things, though not all do that." Vanity came in many forms. For one without hands it might be to frequently bathe and care for their pelts — but with hands came so many opportunities, including new ways to tend to one's looks. Now, the Kalona tossed the braid back again, and it flew lightly to land among its many friends at the back of him. They were heavy with the rain, but he did not mind it. It wasn't cold; it was isolating. |