another day, another discovery

Mordecai de Fonte · 01-03-2012, 12:42 AM

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sswm: 505

Okey. And, Mordy is such a derpface.

Word Count → 505

Juliet.

The name was lovely, suited for a girl like her. Her last name seemed vaguely familiar, but his mind did not dwell on the thought for long though. He looked back at the tree again when she spoke of the painting, though this time not to avoid her gaze, which now spoke silently of a smile, but to take another look at what he knew now was her another piece of her work. “It’s as if one is looking into the future, to the coming spring,” he commented, looking back to Juliet. He saw paintings once before, a brief encounter at that, but it was not as pretty as the one she made; it was of some human that reminded him of a pig, and his mind tried to wander off think about the horrid thing, but the girl’s words kept him at attention.

“Ce-Cecatori d’Arte,” he murmured, his own tongue attempting to master the alien words. “That’s the name you wrote in the snow.” Of course, this was a guess at heart; he knew how to read, but he was a shabby one at that. She must have been a fantastic reader, from the way she wrote so neatly, another piece of art work in its self. He enviously wished he could write as neat as her, but he never did put forth much time in things that reminded him of humans.

“Oh, I know what berries you are talking about,” he interjected, his tail wagging now that he was fully comfortable in the girl’s presence. “Well, your warning is a little late, though. I tried eating a whole mouthful of them before, I think a month ago. They weren’t very… ah, good.” He remembered the killer stomachache he received because of the berries, and could not help but let out a short chuckle at that memory. But, as soon as he said the words, he wished that he did not let them spill; what if she thought of him as some foolish wolf that ate everything that came across him? Now embarrassed without a real reason, he bit down on his lower lip, as if the action would keep his tongue from saying anything that would go against him.

He took to the offer of the jar, his hands out to grab for it. But, before he could take it, he noticed the stick that she used earlier fall out of her hands. He met her gaze as she too looked away from the brush, unsure of what to do for a moment and became silent; she acted the stick did not fall, should he act like so too? What if she did not quite notice she dropped it? “Here you go,” Mordecai spoke meekly as he picked the tool from the ground, holding it out for the girl to take. He felt even more self-conscious as before, and placed the hand he used to pick up the stick on his head, unknowingly smearing some of the purple paint on his bandana.

Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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