01-20-2010, 03:41 PM
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Hehe, well it fit pretty well!  Word Count: 626 - SoSuWriMo Only rarely would anyone find Dawali in such a foul mood, and even more rarely would they be able to understand that he even was in such a mood. He never saw the point in spreading the unhappiness, and so he very rarely complained. If someone was to come along, he would likely just pretend that everything was dandy. After all, that was a better way to spend the time while one socialized with another person, too. Though, with the right people, if prompted, he would complain. Or rather.. explain his foul mood. Mischka had been one such person — he had always been able to trust that she would understand that he did not complain solely for the sake of complaining, as many do. She would understand his intentions, and she would make him feel better. And during some days such as these, he remembered again that he missed her. Of course, he never did forget her, but now it was years since her death. Some days passed when he forgot to remember her, in a sense. He missed her easy personality; how she truly had gotten him, understood him, been able to live with him and explain to him what he himself was thinking. Sometimes it was nice to have a companion. Gvihita understood and gave an indignant scream from above. Or at least, that's what Dawali interpreted it as. He mumbled something rude back at her, for no matter how much she tried she would never be able to convince him that she was understanding. No, if there was ever something she could tease him with, she would do so. She would seek it out for the sole purpose of seeing him miserable. In that sense she was intolerable, but it was quite entertaining when he was not offended, and she was offended that he was not offended, as if he had wasted her precious efforts. He cared about his spirit guide, and he was certain she was fond of him as well, but they did little else than bicker like an old couple, especially during the winter. He gnawed on the dried fish and mumbled to himself, almost not noticing the change in the scents around him. Still, though, some moments passed after the point where he should have known, and he lifted his head to look out in front of him. No one. But he could have sworn.. no, there it was again. The wind carried with it the scents of his daughter, and he was certain this time; he was not being lied to by his own imagination. Sitting still, he could soon spot her as she approached him, looking all fiery and full of mischief as usual. He was about to spring to his feet, but she was already speaking and he would let her finish; he knew his daughter. He chuckled once she reached the point, glanced at the fish in his hand and then simply dropped it to the ground. Those two arms reached out for his daughter to come to him, for he would simply not allow her to simply sit atop that horse when she had a father to hug. He chuckled as he did so, and at first he wondered if he should try to muster some response, but found none. It didn't matter much, he knew all she had wanted was to deliver that line anyway. "Ayule! Get down from there and hug your old cranky father!" His voice was had a pretense strict ring to it, and his face matched very much to it. Oh yes, he was giving the orders here. Aidan had her so much to himself, he could go somewhere and play now, for this was Dawali's little baby girl. |