04-01-2018, 05:16 PM
Cry was no fool. Her words might be twisted with the illusion of a talltale, laced with fiction, but it was all true. That was who she was. That is who she always will be. Just... a bit ... different. She had to convince herself that. She was still her. No one else could be her but her. That was how identity worked. So what if she looked a bit different? And she had to give up all her friends and family? And her favorite spot by the window where the sun shined on her shell? S-she.... She was...
She took a deep breath, clearing her thoughts. She was still her.
And nothing could ever change that.
Cry tilted her neck as Leigh peacefully trotted on up to her. While she did not approve of him intruding on her time, she had a small amount of appreciation for the amount of care the giant creature was taking not to step on her writing. Her kind had strange eyesight, only seeing in monochromatic hues on how much light bounced off a surface. She could not see ink and pen writing, so her kind resulted to .... other methods. Runes. Magical letters and characters that gave off a soft magic glow when written. They never did learn how to truly activate them, but they were useful for communication. They... utilized them over using them. Simple.
Cry's snow penmanship was sloppy and unbalanced. She was not exactly used to seeing in full color and depth yet, so it was hard to move something as small as a stick. She could still read her own words, though. She honestly did not write much. Short words that reminded her of who she was. Family. Friends. Star. Ice. Fire. Home. ... Other various runes appeared alongside, but these were the most important to her. She sighed. She could only hope everyone was okay.
The raven turned up to Killua, glaring at him. If he was so bored with her performance, he could leave. No one was requiring him to stay here. She cawed at the other, as if reminding him that she couldn't speak. Not yet. She had no reason to speak to him, anyways. What had earned her voice? A question? Don't make her laugh. Ask something worth knowing to get her knowledge. And even then, why would she tell him? The raven stood up, gently ruffling her wings through the bandages. She hopped down off her rock and picked up her stick again. She returned to writing literature of her home, as if ignoring the two.
"SPEECH"
She took a deep breath, clearing her thoughts. She was still her.
And nothing could ever change that.
Cry tilted her neck as Leigh peacefully trotted on up to her. While she did not approve of him intruding on her time, she had a small amount of appreciation for the amount of care the giant creature was taking not to step on her writing. Her kind had strange eyesight, only seeing in monochromatic hues on how much light bounced off a surface. She could not see ink and pen writing, so her kind resulted to .... other methods. Runes. Magical letters and characters that gave off a soft magic glow when written. They never did learn how to truly activate them, but they were useful for communication. They... utilized them over using them. Simple.
Cry's snow penmanship was sloppy and unbalanced. She was not exactly used to seeing in full color and depth yet, so it was hard to move something as small as a stick. She could still read her own words, though. She honestly did not write much. Short words that reminded her of who she was. Family. Friends. Star. Ice. Fire. Home. ... Other various runes appeared alongside, but these were the most important to her. She sighed. She could only hope everyone was okay.
The raven turned up to Killua, glaring at him. If he was so bored with her performance, he could leave. No one was requiring him to stay here. She cawed at the other, as if reminding him that she couldn't speak. Not yet. She had no reason to speak to him, anyways. What had earned her voice? A question? Don't make her laugh. Ask something worth knowing to get her knowledge. And even then, why would she tell him? The raven stood up, gently ruffling her wings through the bandages. She hopped down off her rock and picked up her stick again. She returned to writing literature of her home, as if ignoring the two.
"SPEECH"