03-14-2009, 05:49 PM
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Don’t worry about it, ^=^500+
The female knew what an axe was—a weapon, but a tool also used for the cutting of wood among other things. But the female was woad warrior was unfamiliar to the former term he used: ladder. The woad bound ears pricked forward at the sound of that unfamiliar word. But the unvoiced question was momentarily silenced as the grey male continued. “I had heard about the library, and I had wanted to look there, but I kept forgetting....” The female smiled, almost shyly as she spoke. “I’m glad that you have decided to take up this task; once your are completed, the library will be a good resource for the pack. Perhaps someone will write Dahlia’s history and store among the other books there.” The Caledonian-Korean wasn’t sure if it was the same in this culture, but in her culture, the musician was the keeper of the history. And so she wondered momentarily if the green eyed Mew would take up the task. Of course, it may be another’s task altogether, and so the female was silent, trusting that if there were someone charged with such a task, it would be done.
Then, the female asked, “What is a ‘ladder’?” And the warrior did not seem troubled by her lack of knowledge, well aware of her ignorance to different aspects of life. She had chosen to disregard many human things while managing to live among them. But as a simple wolf, the female did not need a name for ever entity she came upon.
The black fae nodded quietly. The ability to read books and text was like the ability to read those strange black dots of music. The warrior thought of Mew once again as she listened to the white female’s mate. “I admit that I cannot read—I can recognize symbols alone.” But symbols were not the same as a written language, and some would argue that such uses of symbols was a very crude thing. And perhaps the warrior, in her martial passion, was intelligent in other ways. “I always marveled at those who managed to understand such things. Mew reads music like that,” and the alto melody smiled in the warm day. “I do not think that I would learn,” the female said apologetically, “but I love to listen to the tales held within those strange pages.”
A light smile flickered across her maw, but she did not mind the male’s inquiry. “My mother gave them to me,” the alto melody said quietly as she gazed into the white eyes of her reflection. “They are the patterns of war and protection, strength and certainty.” The female regarded her own hand and arm for a moment before she lifted her bright, white eyes to the other’s face. “But they have been redrawn so many times over the years that they do not disappear....” Perhaps that was a strange thing, but the warrior did not question the workings of the world. She accepted that they happened, and she accepted her own place within that world.
The female knew what an axe was—a weapon, but a tool also used for the cutting of wood among other things. But the female was woad warrior was unfamiliar to the former term he used: ladder. The woad bound ears pricked forward at the sound of that unfamiliar word. But the unvoiced question was momentarily silenced as the grey male continued. “I had heard about the library, and I had wanted to look there, but I kept forgetting....” The female smiled, almost shyly as she spoke. “I’m glad that you have decided to take up this task; once your are completed, the library will be a good resource for the pack. Perhaps someone will write Dahlia’s history and store among the other books there.” The Caledonian-Korean wasn’t sure if it was the same in this culture, but in her culture, the musician was the keeper of the history. And so she wondered momentarily if the green eyed Mew would take up the task. Of course, it may be another’s task altogether, and so the female was silent, trusting that if there were someone charged with such a task, it would be done.
Then, the female asked, “What is a ‘ladder’?” And the warrior did not seem troubled by her lack of knowledge, well aware of her ignorance to different aspects of life. She had chosen to disregard many human things while managing to live among them. But as a simple wolf, the female did not need a name for ever entity she came upon.
The black fae nodded quietly. The ability to read books and text was like the ability to read those strange black dots of music. The warrior thought of Mew once again as she listened to the white female’s mate. “I admit that I cannot read—I can recognize symbols alone.” But symbols were not the same as a written language, and some would argue that such uses of symbols was a very crude thing. And perhaps the warrior, in her martial passion, was intelligent in other ways. “I always marveled at those who managed to understand such things. Mew reads music like that,” and the alto melody smiled in the warm day. “I do not think that I would learn,” the female said apologetically, “but I love to listen to the tales held within those strange pages.”
A light smile flickered across her maw, but she did not mind the male’s inquiry. “My mother gave them to me,” the alto melody said quietly as she gazed into the white eyes of her reflection. “They are the patterns of war and protection, strength and certainty.” The female regarded her own hand and arm for a moment before she lifted her bright, white eyes to the other’s face. “But they have been redrawn so many times over the years that they do not disappear....” Perhaps that was a strange thing, but the warrior did not question the workings of the world. She accepted that they happened, and she accepted her own place within that world.