03-28-2009, 11:19 AM
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Sorry for the wait!! >____<
500+
Cwmfen nodded in agreement. Cercelee would be the best suited to undertake the task of historian, and as the Rosea, the black fae thought it more so. She wondered briefly, however, at Mew. Musicians of Caledonia were the historians, who sang of the past and even, occasionally, of the future. She wondered if Mew were the same type of musician, of if she were simply a creator of music. She should have asked her the last time, but she hadn’t. Perhaps she would ask her later, if she happened upon her. (The warrior did not like to seek her packmates out without a reason, for she thought that she may be interrupting them.) But Cercelee would know the happenings of the pack, for all information eventually came to her knowledge. And when Cwmfen had first joined Dahlia de Mai, it had been Cercelee who had enlightened her upon the workings of the pack with such clarity that it had been difficult for the black fae to become misguided. “I’m sure that she appreciates all the help you are giving her,” the alto melody sang with a smile. The Rosea tended to be busy, and so she did not doubt that what she had said was true.
The woad marked warrior was glad that the male did not judge her for her ignorance of human things. And she smiled as he explained it, listening intently so as to picture the contraption in her mind. Perhaps she had seen something like it before but had simply not known the name, or even that there was a name. But she did not think that she had seen it; she thought of the steps of a staircase, but she did not think that a staircase and a ladder were the same thing. She nodded slowly as she tried to imagine it once more but could not. But then Lubomir offered to show it to her, and her tail waved once in agreement. “I would like that—to see it, I mean. I’m afraid that, aside from the weapons, I know very little of human existence.” The female smiled almost shyly then.
“Yes, she is,” The female agreed without question. Briefly, her mind went back to when she had first met the white Council Member. That night, Mew had shown her a piano, and she had played a piece... something about the moonlight, she remembered. It had been beautiful, the way Mew had immersed herself into the music itself. Then the warrior was silent for a moment. “Are there books concerning the making of weapons?” The warrior’s voice was curious as she asked so suddenly. “I was thinking of learning more of such a trade. I know a little bit already, but I know that my methods are crude, though not impossible. I made my current spear with such methods....” The warrior was thoughtful. Though she was unsure as to how well Lubomir knew the libraries, she thought that she would ask, just to make sure.
His next question made her head tilt ever so slightly. She thought that the label of ‘Europe’ may have referred to where she had hailed, but his doubt made her doubt as well. “I hail from Caledonia,” the alto melody said slowly. “My mother’s tribe practiced the ancient ways,” she explained, and it was obvious that this warrior had a passion for such things. It was possible that her love of war had come from such a thing. But then, she thought that perhaps he was speaking of her appearance. “The male who sired me is Korean,” she offered quietly.
500+
Cwmfen nodded in agreement. Cercelee would be the best suited to undertake the task of historian, and as the Rosea, the black fae thought it more so. She wondered briefly, however, at Mew. Musicians of Caledonia were the historians, who sang of the past and even, occasionally, of the future. She wondered if Mew were the same type of musician, of if she were simply a creator of music. She should have asked her the last time, but she hadn’t. Perhaps she would ask her later, if she happened upon her. (The warrior did not like to seek her packmates out without a reason, for she thought that she may be interrupting them.) But Cercelee would know the happenings of the pack, for all information eventually came to her knowledge. And when Cwmfen had first joined Dahlia de Mai, it had been Cercelee who had enlightened her upon the workings of the pack with such clarity that it had been difficult for the black fae to become misguided. “I’m sure that she appreciates all the help you are giving her,” the alto melody sang with a smile. The Rosea tended to be busy, and so she did not doubt that what she had said was true.
The woad marked warrior was glad that the male did not judge her for her ignorance of human things. And she smiled as he explained it, listening intently so as to picture the contraption in her mind. Perhaps she had seen something like it before but had simply not known the name, or even that there was a name. But she did not think that she had seen it; she thought of the steps of a staircase, but she did not think that a staircase and a ladder were the same thing. She nodded slowly as she tried to imagine it once more but could not. But then Lubomir offered to show it to her, and her tail waved once in agreement. “I would like that—to see it, I mean. I’m afraid that, aside from the weapons, I know very little of human existence.” The female smiled almost shyly then.
“Yes, she is,” The female agreed without question. Briefly, her mind went back to when she had first met the white Council Member. That night, Mew had shown her a piano, and she had played a piece... something about the moonlight, she remembered. It had been beautiful, the way Mew had immersed herself into the music itself. Then the warrior was silent for a moment. “Are there books concerning the making of weapons?” The warrior’s voice was curious as she asked so suddenly. “I was thinking of learning more of such a trade. I know a little bit already, but I know that my methods are crude, though not impossible. I made my current spear with such methods....” The warrior was thoughtful. Though she was unsure as to how well Lubomir knew the libraries, she thought that she would ask, just to make sure.
His next question made her head tilt ever so slightly. She thought that the label of ‘Europe’ may have referred to where she had hailed, but his doubt made her doubt as well. “I hail from Caledonia,” the alto melody said slowly. “My mother’s tribe practiced the ancient ways,” she explained, and it was obvious that this warrior had a passion for such things. It was possible that her love of war had come from such a thing. But then, she thought that perhaps he was speaking of her appearance. “The male who sired me is Korean,” she offered quietly.