[p] seasons go and seasons come

Anatole Aston · 09-25-2012, 01:02 PM

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Baaaaw I am slow. Anatole is awkward sometimes. :3

His fingers caressed the drum nervously, and was glad that Unatsi had the confidence to speak when he did not. The girl was even more talkative, and he found he liked this—it filled the silence. For most of his life he had lived with silence and while not uncomfortable with this, was starting to understand the need for socialization and interaction. Her mention of rank gave him another edge into the conversation, though he waited until she was finished to speak. He was glad for that choice as well; while she was teasing him, it was light-hearted and the brilliant smile that came across her face forced one to slowly take away his own scowl.

“My cousin, Claudius, he’s a craftsman too,” Anatole said slowly, and motioned to his shoulder. He trailed one finger in an approximation of the spiral on his cousin’s own arm. “He dyes his fur. You should talk with him, about making things,” the dark man offered lamely, and then positioned himself as to have better access to the drum. Gingerly, he began tapping at it—there was no rhythm and no direction to the noise, which was soft, but a look was given to Unatsi in hopes he might take the lead. Anatole was uncomfortable with things beyond his element, and this was one of them.

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