01-08-2021, 01:28 PM
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RIFTWEAVER
[W]iskerRIFTWEAVER
[div style="background-color:#242924;width:90%;max-height:200px;overflow: auto;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;color: white;"] "speech"
Riftweaver had been reeling since the revelation Rosemary had dropped upon the two of them. He was a half. Half a soul. Half himself. That was a terrifying prospect, one that inevitably made him question his very identity. Who was he, really? Was he just the piece Brandy had left behind?
Yet, along with these rather distressing emotions, there was a different feeling that accompanied the revelation. Peace, happiness, belonging. All words that failed to describe the way his soul stopped screaming once in proximity of his other half. It was for this reason that the male crept forward, eyeing the baskets.
If they were to coexist as two separate people, despite their shared origins, they needed to learn to get along. They were two halves of a whole, but their sense of self and their personalities varied in great contrast. Riftweaver seemed to be softer, more sensitive, where as Brandyskies seemed to have a better grip on his emotions. It was jarring.
One would figure, generally, that they would be much more alike. That their personalities, speech patterns and everything else would be similar. Perhaps their differences boiled down to their collective experiences. Where as Rift really only remembered a few vague details from their past, Brandy seemed to remember everything. The leafy-maned male was less shaped by their past and more shaped by his experiences since the split, since those were the only experiences he could really recall at any capacity.
The male allowed these thoughts to shift through his brain as he took in Brandyskies' appearance. He considered asking for his opinion on the whole thing, but after a moment he decided to ask something else instead. Now probably just wasn't the time to discuss their situation. "How's the leg?" he asked instead, shuffling his paws uneasily. Did Brandy hate him? Was this a bad idea?
Riftweaver had been reeling since the revelation Rosemary had dropped upon the two of them. He was a half. Half a soul. Half himself. That was a terrifying prospect, one that inevitably made him question his very identity. Who was he, really? Was he just the piece Brandy had left behind?
Yet, along with these rather distressing emotions, there was a different feeling that accompanied the revelation. Peace, happiness, belonging. All words that failed to describe the way his soul stopped screaming once in proximity of his other half. It was for this reason that the male crept forward, eyeing the baskets.
If they were to coexist as two separate people, despite their shared origins, they needed to learn to get along. They were two halves of a whole, but their sense of self and their personalities varied in great contrast. Riftweaver seemed to be softer, more sensitive, where as Brandyskies seemed to have a better grip on his emotions. It was jarring.
One would figure, generally, that they would be much more alike. That their personalities, speech patterns and everything else would be similar. Perhaps their differences boiled down to their collective experiences. Where as Rift really only remembered a few vague details from their past, Brandy seemed to remember everything. The leafy-maned male was less shaped by their past and more shaped by his experiences since the split, since those were the only experiences he could really recall at any capacity.
The male allowed these thoughts to shift through his brain as he took in Brandyskies' appearance. He considered asking for his opinion on the whole thing, but after a moment he decided to ask something else instead. Now probably just wasn't the time to discuss their situation. "How's the leg?" he asked instead, shuffling his paws uneasily. Did Brandy hate him? Was this a bad idea?