The Colour of Our Planet

Pripyat Soul · 01-02-2012, 03:57 PM

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hope you don't mind me assuming Pripyat catches sight of Ansui at the Abbey every now and then? 418

Pripyat spent the morning tidying the Abbey. It was empty that day, though most days it was silent even when the other members of the Herald class breathed in its halls. Every morning and most evenings he built a small fire in the modest kitchen of the Abbey and he was just letting the fiery thing die out when he realized how little fire wood was left stacked aside the fire place. Moving through silent halls and out into the gardens Pripyat Soul, the Eika and firekeeper of the clan, went to where his store of firewood lay outside. Taking a bundle of it for the kitchen he frowned at how small this supply too had grown. Of course the boy had other firewood, but it was only that which was specially seasoned for the pack's festivals and rituals and he knew that more was needed to replenish what he now took. And so it was this that led him to Phoenix Forest.

At his hip he wore the pouch he had fashioned out of old leather, flint and other stones for fire making safe inside. At anytime, anywhere, Pripyat could start a spark that would grow into either life giving warmth or a very destructive force. The slight bounce of the pouch against his leg was comforting as he moved along, looking for whichever tree looked the most dead. Instead of his bow and arrow he carried with him an ax—a rusty old thing that required too much strength to yield but the smoky man made use of it anyway. It needed to be sharpened and cleaned but Pripyat simply never got around to it. He swung the tool absently as he moved along, ocean eyes scanning the forest for a skeleton of pine.

Instead they landed on the large, tricolored dog that was not an uncommon sight at Gampo Abbey. Although Pripyat spoke little to the Reiseki—indeed he spoke little to anyone much anymore—the boy made his home at the Abbey and felt at ease among the others in the Herald class. They understood, he felt. They understood what this—Ichika and life in general—was all about. Coming up closer to the thick furred priest Pripyat almost smiled at the man's gathering, though Pripyat did not know the purpose of Ansui's wood but the sight made him happy all the same. Dropping his ax to the group, Pripyat held his hands together and bowed deeply, his voice rough with disuse. "Namaste Reiseki."

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