I AM AN OLD SOUL LOOKING FOR REST | whittling

[GEORGIA.]

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*･ﾟ✧ / BETA / 08 MONTHS

Georgia had few talents, and they were all ocean related. All connected to the sea, somehow, in some form. A good swimmer, a good fisher, playing the handpan, sailing...and an odd, disembodied way of singing. Siren-like, almost. Nevertheless, these things got old. Sometimes she was tired of being linked to the ocean; tired of being tied and limited. She wanted to be good at land based things, too. She wanted to be good at artisan crafts. She wanted to draw and cook and build. Stupid fucking Greek mythology heritage.

In happening across Lucifer, Devland, Michael and Goldie, Georgia couldn't help but bite her lip and pin her ears at the sight of Luci dragging his claws over the driftwood. The way it caught underneath his nails, the uncomfortable splintering...it made her own nail beds itch like crazy. She took a moment to individually shake each paw, flicking them as hard as she could so she could rid herself of the sensation.

"How old he is?" The somali echoed idly, creeping forward to inspect the finished pieces. "How old is he?" Georgia had a mild concept of age and ancient deities; she believed in gods and goddesses whose culture had disappeared millenia ago. Still, she'd never met any, which made it a little difficult to physically wrap her brain around them.

She poked the dolphin carving, fully fixated on all of its fine markings and intricate details. "Can I have this? It's awesome."

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