|MVH: deceased elves bio
Previous Names: Daystar (cubname)
Function in Tribe: Healer, Crafter & Gatherer
Nickname: Brat (only her brother), Sunny
Appearance: Bright gold hair, wavy, often with flowers woven in it. Blue eyes, wide. She liked to wear plant themed decorations/jewelry. Wore shirts with bell-sleeves, a bodice sash/waistband, pants with a clover-slit short skirt, high lace sandals. Carried a small hand axe at her lower back but preferred a javelin.
Personality: Sweet, happy, but she did as she pleased - beliving in asking for forgivness rather then permission. Thankfully she usually agreed with most of the desions of the tribe. A firm believer of the WAY. Used more magic then herbal, but she gathered them along with things for dyes, honey,spices, ect. Made beautiful candles and baskets. Family was the most important thing to her.
History: Even as a cub young Gold knew she was special, her parents thrilled to have a healer. Naming her Daystar for her hair color and hope in her gift. They had her learn all they could on herbs and plants. And until her magic came while she was more self-centered-important then responsible. She took the adult name of Goldstar as she found her cub name too heavy.
Her (younger? older?) brother finally knocked a sense of responsiblity into her. Wolfbane's nickname of brat became a sign of affection between them.. used in anger at times.
Goldstar Recognized the weapon-maker apprentice Brightwater (now Newmoon). And while she fully feels it means they're lifemated she didn't want to share her den space with his crafting. Her own took most of the den. Making candles from tallow, using sap and rope for basket weaving often smelled too. So the two switched off sleepingfurs, with their son (Flint) living in two dens between them.
Died with Wolfears while checking an odd acting pair of Tuftcats - although many suspect troll trouble. Their bodies were never found.
Age upon death: 675
Appearance: Sharp face with a slightly bend nose, narrow, dark brown eyes and straight, thick, raven black hair. He wore his hair in a low ponytail (using a leather strap with a dark feather) with some bangs framing his face, and he had a goatee.
Personality/History: Raven saw himself as an old wolf, always willing to show others their path but was not afraid to stand with his own values. He would not show his pupils the road from beginning to end, because he believed that certain things you would have to discover for yourself - painful or not. While he supported chieftess Quiver's decisions, he often clashed with Flare, saying he took unnecessary risks and put the tribe in jeopardy. When Flare died and Halfnote took over the chief's lock, he first doubted that she would be able to handle the job but with his support and that of others, she bloomed. Recognition was a pleasant shock to both, and for a while, they formed a happy family.
Raven and his brother Newmoon had a curved relationship: companionship could easily turn into irritation and the other way around. Though he was happy that the relationship with his mother Berrywine improved over the years, it sometimes stung to see the family together. But being who he was, he would quickly focus on the Now.
Raven was a wolfrider and most of all, a hunter. He would often lead hunting parties and loved the Long Hunts in particular. He disliked the trolls but would trade with them, until Flare's action's cut off the trade. Doubting Halfnote optimism when she was chieftess and his lifemate, he nevertheless went with her, which cost him his life in the process.
Tribal Duties: Fisher, Scout
Age at death: 1504
Appearance: Gold eyes, brown wavy hair to his shoulder-blades in a low ponytail.
Personality: In many ways his mother's son, with little evidence of wolf-song.
Recognized in [1049 - a son named Longdusk] and [1697 - son named Newmoon]
Born in 1006
Died in-- , How
Appearance: Brown hair worn loose over a wrap-around bandana with a few braid-loops on the side with beads woven in. In warm weather he wore a one-shoulder tunic that goes low, belt with two small pouches, calf-bands that lets a shimmer of fringe and beads to his ankles, moccasins.
Personailty/History: Born the second son of Taellin and Reedweaver, an usually short time after his brother was. The Massacre left deep fears in him - the footloose, casual lovemating and eagerness to leave in the NOW from his fear of losing another precious person. To the dismay of his family he never had a hand in the cub he sired: leaving that to his more gentle brother Buckgrace, who loved the brewer. Feeling the pureblood elves' too soft he was more wolfrider then many, although not a throwback.
Quirk: Earned his name when he lost two fingers as a cub during the High Tree Massacre.
|CIS: Newmoon - Mist Valley Holt
Previous Names: Hazel (cubname), Brightwater (15-288 )
Nickname: Bone Rattler (for his dice)
Function in Tribe: Weapon maker, hunter
Soul Name: Wen
Known by: Buckgrace (father, D), Berrywine (mother, A)
Eyes: Dark hazel, long and slender. Often slits or half-mast, but expressive.
Hair: Rich wavy black that when loose reaches his calves. When swimming he tends to keep it braided; loose when staying in the holt; ponytail (sometimes with tiny braids) when crafting weapons. Long strands tend to escape his braids.
Build: 4’3”, but with long legs he can appear taller.
Special Marks: Likes to have Muse decorate him with paint-like, although they wear off. He does have scars on his lower calves.
Relatives & Friends
Parents: Father: Buckgrace (DECEASED) Mother: Berrywine (ALIVE)
Other Relatives: Raven (brother,DECEASED); Flint (son,ALIVE); Slyfox (nephew,ALIVE), Strangleweed (cousin,ALIVE)
Love/Lifemates: Goldstar (lovemate /R/, DECEASED) [DATE]
Friends and Foes: Muse (more playmates then friends), Slyfox (friend), Bearskin (annoyance), Viper (friend/hunt partner), Fireflash (annoyance)
• Sending (average)
• Wolf Bonding (average) • Swimming
• Crafting (Bower/Fletcher/Carver)
• Human Language
• Weapon testing
• Stealth• •
Clothes & Posessions
Warm Clothes (Winter/Autumn): Black, black and dark colors. He doesn’t want to be lost in the snow. Long sleeved shirt, layered with a fur edged hood. Bell-bottom fur pants over boots, gloves and somewhat long scarf. Preferring to be over-dressed where he can take stuff off then to be cold.
Thin Clothes (Spring/Summer): Often just a plated kilt (gray with small patterns of feather designs, one pocket at his lower-back), and sandals. Now and then a loose shirt of light purple-blue decorated with stylized patterns of silver.
Accessoires & Jewelry: Bracelets of various colors (wood, bone and metal). Various hair jewelry include ponytail holder, dangle-end hair pins, feathers, carved beads and a set of gold earrings. Between gambling with Slyfox and his mother he has a small collection he barters, gifts and gambles with. He’ll wear only one or two in his hair, although he loves his bracelets enough to wear them at all times. During celebration he dons on ankle bracelets of pod-seeds for sound.
Special Posessions: Six-sided stones (carved dice), troll-made knives,
Weapons: Throwing Knives (troll-made set of three), Spear
Preferred Weapon: Spear (boar)
Character & History
Personality: For all his fancy hair-jewelry and body paint he can be more reserved then out-going. He likes to think (often while busy with his hands) before talking: knowing from his cub-hood that his words could be easily misunderstood. Although during fits of anger his sharp tongue knows few bounds. Games are still a private thrill. Gambling shiny things makes him loud, friendly, competitive and far more charming then some are used to. The weapons he makes are as personal as his own son: taking weeks to match to their intended wielder.
Hunting he is a solid back-up. Using his boar spear to guard the hunters rather to pursue prey. He has no need to find thrill or get curious and distracted. He has a good eye for places for traps even if he knows only the basics of setting them up. That caution comes from close calls with the trolls before Chieftess Halfnote made her decision.
Truthfully he loves his son, but Flint takes more after his uncle then himself. It’s easier for him to accept his Flint’s orders on the hunts as a grown elf then many parents might. A habit of affection is lightly cupping his son’s neck and briefly brushing through his hair when worried/proud: then he lets his son disengage as Flint is such an independent leader who doesn’t need the drama.
Second of two sons for the Recognized Lifemates, Berrywine the tanner and Buckgrace the fisher. Hazel was born during the Cool Season (winter) with dark brown hair and a strong set of lungs. He drove his happy parents ragged that freezing season with his cries. Thankfully he outgrew the fussy stage six moons later and became a healthy, less sensitive cub. His hair shifted to black by the age of three (to his mother’s amusement) until he nearly had blue highlights.
His older grown brother, Raven, was somewhat distant with his little brother. That wasn’t to say he ignored Hazel. There are memories of clamping onto Raven’s leg as a small cub while Raven did his duties, and a few where Raven swung him like a tree-wee from a branch. It was merely that his brother had a busy life of centuries and the parents doted on their newest son often.
 Age 14
His Soul-Name-Search happened after a large fight with his parents. His best friend agreed with them and Hazel ran off to sulk by the river. And while the tribe did keep a secret, distant eye on him he might as well as been alone. For three days he sulked. Then the river swelled into a fierce overflow that almost drowned him. While he was rescued he was also bedridden for a few days with a high reoccurring fever.
On his recovery he took the adult name of Brightwater, for his merry mischief-making and for overcoming his new fear of water. He made himself take swimming lessons so he wouldn’t be as helpless. His big brother started taking a more active interest in him. Giving him guidance, advice and generally encouraging him to be more mature. The two siblings swung between vexed/annoyed and mentoring/friends.
 Age 16
He was eager to trade with the trolls – loving the gambling he did with the guards. At first he got in trouble for this. It was his mother’s jewelry he bet with. However, he soon hunted more rare pelts (using time rather then gathering a lot) to continue his gaming. The metal throwing knives he prizes were his first, best prize that he’s studied for many seasons but never dismantled. The mystery of metal work is more a hobby then an obsession.
 Age 64
He started taking an interest in crafting weapons from an elder. He’d been a hunter since he could first hold an arrow-sling, but now he wanted to see what Ash Hand did. The crafter was making a new axe for someone: taking such care and pride in it. Brightwater saw how appreciated the weapon was. It sparked a selfish craving to be needed and grew to become his true enjoyment.
 Age 143
While returning from a good hunt the hunters ran into a boar family. They stumbled upon the sow and piglets, to each sides alarm, and the sire nearly killed them. Three wolves and two elves were injured before it was driven away, equally hurt. Arrows did little, the swords/knives didn’t stop it from impaling itself to get to them. It was only a spear that finally helped. Brightwater was determined to never let that happen again. He gave up his bow to start mastering the boar spear – a long spear with a cross piece to prevent the boar from impaling itself to ravage the wielder.
 Age 180
Recognition to his mother’s friend, Goldstar was a complete surprise. Both were crafters, and they had been occasional lovemates before, but having a cub changed things between them. They enjoyed their work spaced dens too much to share. With the birth of their son it was with them switching sleeping-furs as a family. It also gave them room when they fought since both were stubborn and passionate.
 Age 184
His brother had a son born (currently named Slyfox). Brightwater’s son adored his cousin playmate. Goldleaf thought they spent too much time getting into mischief and started keeping their son at her side.
[1896-97] Age 196
His son Flint asserts his independence early on. Goldstar encouraged this. Brightwater wasn’t as ready for it and drove the two crazy with his ‘casual’ attempts to keep fathering him. Someone verbally slapped him. It was an abrupt trauma that made him decide to join Viper in one of his long solitary journeys. When he came back he seemed more willing to let him go – hesitant to do anything for fear of rejection.
 Age 209
The change of hunting territory due to humans peeked an interest in them. He is of the mind that if they can observe and learn the habits of the humans then future dangers might be prevented. This doesn’t mean he wants to be friends: he respects them as one should a larger predator.
 Age 286
Goldstar went missing, along with another tribemate, while investigating some odd behaviors in a pair of tuftcats. Her body wasn’t found before predators took it, but evidence of death were there. Some think the trolls might have had something to do with it.
His brother, Raven, died when the trade agreement with the trolls fell though. The death and hurt confusion (as he had considered a troll or two as wary friends) has him more than ready to obey the Chieftess’ decision to avoid them all together. This has not stopped his joy in gambling, nor has he ceased playing with his six-sided stones. The scars on his lower calves are from a troll-trap that didn’t go off correctly.
 Age 288
However, seeing only tribemates all the time felt oddly confining to the newly re-named New Moon. It seemed to change everything. His name-change marked his new restlessness: chosen for the only moon phase he was drawn to (matching his black hair and foul mood). Since he didn’t want to snap anyone’s head off he spent much of his time a short distance away from the others to test his weapons. He fletched, carved, bowered, sharpened and collected much of the material himself. Gathering, working and testing of those weapons allowed him alone-time much needed then.
Not that he wasn’t checking in now and then, or joining tribemates in activities. Slowly that need of isolation has waned. Now he might only spend a week or two from the holt for only a moon in the year. Usually during the summer months when the nights are shorter.
 Age 288
Renewing his interest in the human tribe. During his more solitary moments he went back to studying them from a distance. Not being stupid he checked in with Sending, followed only small numbers who were on the out-skirts of their territory, and never took chances in getting caught.
Personality: An alert, but laid back much of the time wolf. He has two quirks: he will often snatch any caught, unattended fish and will sometimes climb angled trees.. just high enough to be above the elves but easy enough to jump down.
Previous Names: Blackberry (cubname)
Nickname: Stain Catcher
Function in Tribe: Tanner/Jeweler/Brewer
Soul Name: Disa
Known by: Summersky (father, D), Tendril (mother, D)
Facial Features: Soft heart-shaped face with a small mouth always about to smile, and a pert nose.
Eyes: Blue, wide, doesn’t see distance well.
Hair: Black, very wavy, worn to her shoulders. Jagged bangs.
Build: Small, with wide hips and a little heavy on top.
Special Marks: None
Relatives & Friends
Parents: Father: (D) Mother: Tendril (D)
Other Relatives: Sons: Raven (D), Newmoon (A); Sibling: Redberry(sister,D)
Love/Lifemates: Buckgrace (Lifemate, DECEASED in 1815), Kaeren (lovemate, ALIVE)
Friends and Foes: Taellin (best friend), Fireflash(friend), Kaeren (secret crush)
• Sending (average)
• Wolf Bonding (below average) • • Crafting
Clothes & Posessions
Warm Clothes (Winter/Autumn): Bright colors, since she doesn’t need to stalk prey. A patterned pelt skirt and tight jacket/shirt with a hood. Woven gloves, boots, bright sash with leaf and vine patterns sewn on. Every year she decorates herself differently.
Thin Clothes (Spring/Summer): Bright colors. During this time she throws on very light, woven skirts (purple, red, medium tones); sometimes in layers. Sleeve-less bodice or tanktop (yellow, bright blue, pinks, white, vivid and light tones). Half the time she has sleeves clasped on by armbands that goes an inch or two below her finger-tips. When working no sleeves but a hair kerchief.
Accessoires & Jewelry: Lots. She makes and experiments all the time. She only wears multiple small hoop earrings (metal, troll made) and a long beaded necklace with a carved deer medallion.
Special Posessions: Necklace-a gift from Raven after the death of Buckgrace.
Preferred Weapon: Dagger
Character & History
She throws herself into relaxing, herself and others. While she’s a diligent tanner and jeweler she thinks she should help her tribemates relax. This involves dancing, flirting, playing games, and wine she brews from the dreamberries. A natural entertainer. She adjusts her approach to those she wants to help: lending a quiet ear for less social elves, dancing for more active, ect.
Not to say she’s perfectly charming all the time. In many ways she’s selfish in wanting to be entertained too. Sticking her nose into other’s business is as natural as breathing. Voicing her opinion loudly and as often until she achieves her desired result: sometimes match-making lovemates or new adults into apprenticeship. There are moments she privately challenges the Chieftess’ decisions (having just enough sense to keep it between them).
Never leaves the Holt and has no desire to hunt or fish. Only if many of the tribe head to the Falls will she go too. Her up-front display that seems impulsive hides her ability to keep other’s confidences. Some might believe she has no memory since she often acts as though it never happened (unless meddling, when she’ll pester them endlessly).
She’s set her heart on Kaeren, but keeps it very casual. The aloof pure-blood could so easily hurt her with his dreams of leaving for the stars that she refuses to admit to her crush. Only her ever-wise friend Taellin knows how deep she feels about him.
Berrywine loves her parents and sibling. Born with the cubname Blackberry for her hair she strove for attention, having dreams of become a strong plant-shaper like her mother. During her Soulname Search she was badly frightened: alone, nearly killed a few times, and came back to the tribe two moons later with grim vow to never repeat her experience. Although the tribe wandered Blackberry always kept to camp with those not hunting.
For a time she was rather ill tempered (sulking, temper, ect) as the knowledge of her lack of magic deeply wounded her. She was without any idea on who she was, only who she wasn’t. For a decade she apprenticed with various duties – to the vexation of the more serious crafters who found her too flightly –until finally discovering some skill in sewing.
Recognized with a tribemate she disliked and bore a son when she was 111 years. Raising a cub gave her another excuse to stay in camp, but in truth she didn’t know what to do with the very young. Her son had to grow up and take some charge of his mother. Prone to abandonment anxiety she made herself act out as a ‘class clown’ to somehow make herself less of a worry from her tribemates, with mixed results.
Over the centuries she bloomed into tanning, jewelry and doing all but weaving (hopelessly tangles with it). When the tribe settled into the Holt Blackberry was overjoyed. She threw herself into making this a true home for everyone so there would be no thought of wandering again.
Her name-change to Berrywine was for the discovered love of the fermented juices brought back from a troll trade. It indirectly also let her discover dyes. Between the two she was often getting covered with strains. At one point cutting her hair to its current length.
Her second Recognition when she was 608 came as a pleasant shock. This time the lovemate was a more gentle, less ‘hunter-ish’ Buckgrace, grandson of her best friend. It was easy to love him, and the second son they raised together. The brunet fisher teasingly groaned when the son slowly became as raven haired as his lovemate and his own parents.
Buckgrace’s later death left her in quiet mourning for years after although she took many lovemates. Each of her sons Recognized and gave her a grandson, Slyfox and Flint. She took to spoiling them in her own way. Her eldest son slowly started re-bonding as a son – something his caring for her had strained a bit.
During the unrest with the trolls Berrywine suffered almost forgotten anxiety attacks when her sons went out. Her youngest son, Brightwater, injured from their traps. Soon after her eldest, Raven, was killed.
Since that time she’s hated the trolls with the wrath of a wounded mother predator protecting her young. Of humans she has no interest, only fear. When she started loving aloof Kaeren is unknown even to herself saving recognizing it as such when he allowed her see his treasured keepsakes (mainly jewelry) from deceased purebloods a few decades before.
Personality: Loves cubs of both Pack and Tribe, very vocal despite shyness.
|fey Kenshin idea
Got a general idea for my 30romance fic with the Kenshin characters. I want to deal with the supernatural, curses, the two-sides of Kenshin, and of course- love. Has to for 30romance after all. As I love the idea of T/BK rather then K/K I think I shall lean toward that anyway.
Now how mean to be to Kaoru..?
*Kenshin has three 'names': Shinta, the child name he originally had; Kenshin, given to him by his swordmaster; Hitokiri Battousai (Battousai the Manslayer), the feared name of his assassin persona. The manga calls himself sessha, unworthy one, as a wanderer.
What if the human child Bonded to something un-human? It would explain his duel personality easily enough. We could also say their mental connection also affected his outward appearance. If you saw the negatives in old film it does a reverse coloring: black goes red for example. [oh the things I learn!] Both of them changed, even if all people saw was one body, so the taking of a new name to represent US rather then I and Me wouldn't be hard.
*Tomoe, an eternally sad woman. She carries her quiet grief like a cloak as she dwells in the past.
There is a kind of Sidhe that greatly resembles her save it is mainly celtic mythology: the Beann Sidhe. Mainly always a woman who senses the approach of death to a particular family. Creatures such as the banshee is among the Beann, but they can also be an ancestor, which is what Tomoe would be. In a way she will be a ghost that has an interest in a particular family/place.
Sadly I'm torn on either having a Tomoe-Bond-To-A-Spiritual-Kaoru (love interest K/K & B/T) or having a coma-induced Kaoru taken over by Tomoe.
* The famous 'X' scar on Kenshin's left cheek. While the first '/' refused to heal from the spite of a man he killed, the last half was given in love(sorta) when his wife died by sheilding him in battle. For a time the first '/' continued to bleed at odd moments as if the dead's hate renewed it. That stopped with the final mark. (A horribly simplified summary)
I do so hate to lose this part of his legend. Thankfully I don't think I have to! It could be an outward Seal the two sides of Kenshin made for their Pact. Or even a curse for those who know how to read it.
The sword can only hurt non-mortals/non-humans, made of plain but magical steel. One reason Kenshin can carry it is 1)apprentice to a famous sword school 2)protection non-lethal for the effeminate youth 3)slave of a famous hermit who doesn't enjoy people 4)his Master's connections.
[When I thought of having Kenshin/Kaoru interaction. She would be from a spiritual family and so would have some knowledge of Others.]
There was a reason she stood, wide-eyed and still, into the felon cage the priests guarded. The rest of the crowd starring into the felon cage remarked upon the Demon’s silver hair and golden eyes. How the creature should be shown to respect their authority. That last remark was disapproval to the sword the creature retained despite the touch of iron manacles. It suffered every indignity but being disarmed. Thrown mud hardly marred the eternal beauty of the demon sitting in the center of the cage. She watched long, but it rarely stirred save to occasionally caress the sword sheath. What held her there was more then what kept her neighbors there. More then the awe and disgust at the creature’s rare appearance, but that she saw another in the felon cage, cradled in the creature’s lap.
The image of the sword was interposed by the shape of a human youth, relaxed in adolescent slumber. When the boy moved to awaken the creature gently coaxed him back to dreaming. Only the demon’s fingers touched him as the golden eyes continued to scan about and beyond his confinement with detachment. Sometimes they caught hers, but the demon didn’t linger after the first time. It had weighted something inside her and found her lacking. They continued searching, ignoring the priests chanting stationed around the cage or the smell of burnt flesh coming from the manacles.
She left quick enough when the ceremony of purging began. There remained things to do, demon or not.
[When I had the impulse to have Kaoru, as above, dying. One way to live would be to Bond with Kenshin's Other's wife, Tomoe. A Batt/Tomoe & K/K love thing. Not too sure about it now.]
“Ask quickly. Ask all.”
“What will happen? Will I still be me?”
“Ask quickly. Ask all.” That was his greeting to her in an almost totally detached tone. He kneeled by her death bed with the same, unhurried grace the Fey had always shown. Red hair caught the daylight from the high-ponytail rather then the low-ponytail his Other habitually wore. It reminded her of who she wished to truly speak to, but her beloved was too kind to not take her death badly. Perhaps this was best after all.
“What will happen? Will I still be me?”
“You remain. We do not destroy our Other’s soul, or imprison them,” he quietly stated politely. Golden eyes stayed on hers so that she caught a brief flash of purple tint within. Proof that his Other, her beloved, was there too.
“Why can’t he tell me this if you aren’t keeping him away?” she almost demanded while pushing herself a little more into the sitting position the pillows gave her. “I know he wants to be here too!”
“You are dying. He is distressed and would seek to comfort you. You don’t have the time.” Compassion was not his strength, but he didn’t hide from truth. And he did care or he wouldn’t have offered this. This, who joined his side with the same Fey grace. To her the lady was nameless as all the Fey except the swordsman answering her questions, and one now tending the garden. But that was only natural when names held Power. What unsettled her was her choice: allow the lady Fey to take her body, or die fully human.
“Reject it and he will be all you see,” assured the lady with a shared look with the Fey swordsman. Golden eyes meet the lady’s then lower with a barely noticeable nod. If the lady held a victory it didn’t reflect in their serene faces as the lady turned to look at her again. They remained silent when she had a fit of coughs. Mortals knew death, knew the reckless speed to time against them. They left her to choose the pace for questions and choice. So as she had recovered she began again.
“Tell me why. Why me?” There was a pause from the Fey before he offered the facts with violet tinted eyes. A hand moving to hold the Fey lady’s.
“We offer because it would benefit us all.
[A tidbit following the above theme.]
The modest room didn’t match the eloquent Fey. A simple room for the two owners to sleep, dress and meditate in. Two sleeping areas matched a plain, low table between them. Behind her was a door that became the kitchen/wash area/dojo built as the main part of the building. This room seemed an after-thought add on. There was her beloved’s sword stand beside the bed she lay propped in to show his side. His Other, the Fey swordsman, held no presence in this room.
[Intro to Tomoe]
The cherry blossoms were blooming nicely that day. Petals drifting on the slightest wind to cover the grounds: to float by faces and land on one’s clothes and hair. Even the white plum trees were adding to the festive nature display. From the open door of the room facing the street she could see the beauty touching the kimonos of passing people when she looked up from arranging the flowers kept in each guest room. With one hand holding back her kimono sleeve she would gently move the iris flowers, or cherry blossom branch, with a skill most working women didn’t have.
Not that anyone would notice.
She was at a loss on what to feel for the young woman laying on a futon behind her. Family blood bound them, but there was no true bond between them. So she continued her flower arranging as doctors, family and friends dropped by to see the now always sleeping girl. Overheard the doctor’s waning optimism of the girl’s, young Kaoru’s, recovery as weeks passed with no sign of awaking: noticed the parents and brother struggle to pay for her stay at the hospital before they were forced to bring her home from lack of money. There were tears in the night and private conversations she wasn’t meant to hear.
Every other day she went in the garden and arranged fresh flowers in the room.
They had no means to feed Kaoru. Giving her water ran the risk of choking her with each try. Muscles gained from practicing the family style of swordsmanship now lost: making her thin and vulnerable. It was why she stayed with Kaoru. No one should be alone when death lingered and they were fading away.
‘Not that her family will admit it.’
An idea had grown while tending the flowers. When she finished arranging she would silent watch Kaoru, kneeling properly in her white kimono more formal then most now wore. She hardly moved
Kaoru’s body lived but her spirit, her mind, was buried deep and she didn’t have the years to strengthen herself back. Already her family was starting to grieve for her as they labored to care for her even as they themselves struggled.
1) Cold hands, cold feet "Music was invented to confirm human loneliness."
He was too old, too set in his ways, to be babysitting troubled boys. The timid soul almost treading on his white mantle was hardly higher then his waist and exhausted.
Slowly the boy woke to the sensation of warmth around him. And the steady motions that threatened to lull him back to sleep was someone walking with him in their arms.
Kaoru was fuming as she chopped the hapless fish into tiny bits. Swearing would require words rather then growls, and she didn't want to add anymore embarrassment by showing her father's guests that his only daughter was far from lady-like. They had spent most of their spare coin to buy dinner for the visiting masters and their students to spare them from her barely edible cooking. She could make the smaller snacks. It was cheaper to make those. Besides, if she could finish them now she might catch some of the demonstrations.
That was her only cheerful thought as she waited for the tea water to boil. The bath house was being heated by someone else (apprentice or servant). They were chopping the wood out back in rhythmic
Her growls increased as
The parents went out to celebrate their anniversary: a movie and dinner. I decided to go to the SakuraCon BBQ at the park some two hours after they left. Packed the last of the far-too-flimsy-paper plates, a set of plastic cups, bought two BIG FIZZ sodas, grabbed the water bowl with water, and leash.
Yasha would spend most of the time under the picnic bench. Never touched the water. I encouraged others to pet her in an attempt to make her socialize.
I conversed with a few people (none of the DnD-ers joined me) and might have two more minions for the Manga Library next year. Grabbed some fliers for the '08 Con to drop off at the libraries later.