song of the sea

[no more]

[align=center][div style="width: 230px; font-family: georgia; color: #7b8189; font-size: 10px; text-align: center;line-height: 110%; padding-top:10px; padding-bottom:10px"]i'll never get to heaven cause i don't know how

Peace and quiet. It is all the dark child had come to want though something within them called for them to break their solitude, worn like a heavy cloak about hunched shoulders, yet their overwhelmed mind needed the break even if it was for a few moments. The previous day still weighed heavily upon them, the events leading into them being somewhat mean towards one member in particular was enough to sour any good mood they might have held, a bad taste lingering in their mouth. Such had lead into a largely sleepless night, their mind refusing to shut down and permit them any chance to rest, left with only an hour.

It had been a struggle to force themself from bed that morning, satchel thrown on and into it a few of their carving knives and fragments of bone. For a time they had debated on whether to bring the switchblade, to sharpen it and test it for the work, but thought better of it, leaving the obsidian blade where they had placed it the night before. Trudging steps drew them towards the bay, a familiar and comforting sight, the soft lull of the sea drawing them in, yet it did little to improve their mood.

Settling heavily Aita took a few seconds to breath deeply of the sea air, tasting the tang of salt, burning their nose in a way all together familiar and somewhat welcome, a soft sigh escaping them. Flipping open their bag they carefully arranged the items they had brought, three knives in case one grew dull or the work called for a thinner blade and four pieces of bone, one the disk from a spine, two from the leg of a smaller creature and the last a jaw bone. Carefully they picked up the jaw bone, turning it over in their paws. Yellowed by age it was brittle and fragile beneath their paws, necessary without tools to carve into fresher bone, a thoughtful hum escaping them as they looked upon it, yet they weren't quite focused on it, simply making a show of it in hopes it might dissuade any other from approaching if such might even be possible for those of the Typhoon seemed unable to keep to themselves for long.

[member=1609]TEMULIN[/member]

the tyhpoon — minnow — tags

[CELESTE G.M.]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-size:8pt;font-family:verdana;border-bottom: 1px white solid;padding-BOTTOM: 3px;"]Sleepless nights were familiar to Temulin. Ever since she'd came to the Typhoon, she used the peace and quiet of the night to try and preform her rituals, listen to the song of the sea and try to understand it's words. The daytime she was trying to be useful whilst trying to find a ship home, one that would take her back to the plains so she could be back with her tribe and her people. None of which had been achieved so far bar from the change of body granted to her by an unknown force, giving her a practically divine and angelic appearance.

Strange, considering that Temulin herself had never believed in angels. Spirits that were good, yes, but angels were a Christian name for the spirits that she worked with. Even the wings were wrong, the hunters of the plains believed that hawks were sacred to Tengri, not the dove wings that she had. It was all disconcerting, as if her prayers had caught the attention of the wrong Goddess, not her own. Wouldn't that be ironic?

She is coming back from the beach in the morning, the sun having risen and her duties to begin when she catches the glimpse of a charm. It is an art she is not overly familiar with, her tribe not creating them. Another shaman made them, teaching Temulin when she was but an apprentice the complex patterns and markings that created wards, brought luck and granted strength. To see one of Pinch's children working on a bone carving catches her attention, so much so that she finds herself compelled to disturb the silence.

[b]"Miss, I am sorry to disturb you but... It has been a long while since I have seen a bone charm carved. Would you mind if I took a look?" She coughs before she speaks to try and draw Aita's attention away from the carving gently as she can, sitting quite a way back as to try and not cast a shadow over her work. If she remembers from her time carving charms, it took patience and precision, something that she would not like to knock Aita off as she crafts her own charms.

[no more]

[align=center][div style="width: 470px; font-size:7.5pt; font-family:verdana; text-align: justify;line-height: 110%; color:black"][ i'm so sorry this took me so long to get back to, my muse for privates is really fickle ]

It did not matter their origin, be it the angelic beings wreathed in flame and wing one might find within the Catholic religion, or else their counter part in the free floating who seemed drawn back by purpose, given a task they seek to find a conclusion to before they are permitted to pass, never had the child cared much for spirits. An odd thing for one with such peculiar tastes where it came to their personal lessons, the dusty tomes which had come to decorate their living space enough to speak of such. And then what of their own predicament, little more than a vessel for something more.

In more ways then Aita might care to admit they were an oddity all their own, touched by both God and demon before their first breath had passed their lips, and given to another who had found use for their body but not them. With such in mind was it truly surprising to find they cared not for religion nor the aspects of life tied to it, viewing death as an end to be pushed back as long as possible, not some beginning to something more beyond this world.

A breath drawn through the teeth, rasping as it rushed through the spaces, ears slicking back as best they can, stopped briefly by the small horns slow in their growth. For a time they think upon simply ignoring the question, pretending as though their response was for something else, but quickly the thought was brushed aside, the idea of company strangely compelling. To any who knew the child it seemed odd to find they turned a curious gaze towards Temulin, brow furrowed as they looked her over. Something about her tugged upon a faint memory, something about her voice and the way she speaks, unable to be fully covered up even with the rather radical change in body.

Head tilting to the side the child finally allows themself to shift around to better face her, gently resting the piece they had been working on in the sand between them, knife set by their side for it was one of few they had specifically for this work. As of yet unfinished a pentagram was present at the top with two crescent moons to either side slowly taking shape, meant to offer protection though they doubted such for their work wasn't the best, the lines not quite straight for they seemed incapable of keeping their paws steady.

“Jus practicin, not da best but I...” More lingers upon the edge of Aita's tongue but they close their teeth over it, refusing to explain their reasoning for their for such. It seemed all too apparent their family proved a disaster zone, prone to injury to a point it had grown worrying.

[CELESTE G.M.]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-size:8pt;font-family:verdana;border-bottom: 1px white solid;padding-BOTTOM: 3px;"]Her wings move in a flutter involuntarily, but the smile on her face shows that it's one of happiness. Or rather, it's a smile, tinged with the same nostalgia and longing that marks every happy memory that she has. Maybe she's grown too old and this is all she is now, longing for a time long gone and never to return until she inevitably dies in some way or another. The past does not want to let her go but she makes no moves to escape it, and the carving reminds her of the man that taught her craft.

[b]"No, no..." She quickly disagrees with Aita's assessment of her own skill. It is something that needs practice of course, but she is impressed with the craftsmanship nonetheless. Not to mention, if she had to guess she would place Aita at no older than half a year, barely an apprentice, and yet she can produce something so detailed now that Temulin looks forward to seeing it develop. The smile on her face grows from a small soft smile to one more readily recognise as impressed as she lingers on it.

[b]"It's the best I have seen for some time. The symbols are foreign to me, I will admit - but it is no easy task to carve into bone." She can't tell what the symbols are supposed to mean, but she would hazard a guess that the moon was meant to offer protection, perhaps of the divine? It certainly didn't look like the sort of sigil that would be used to curse, even if she wasn't overly familiar with the symbolism that such a thing would invoke. She glances at the knife too, and then back to Aita with a warm smile.

[b]"It's lovely to see someone with such talent carving. I have half a mind to ask you to teach me." Her tone is definitely sincere in her flattery, and it's plain to see from her face that she is genuinely impressed at Aita's handiwork.