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03-01-2015, 08:07 PM
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Isopia The devil is not as black as he is painted. The girl felt a new emotion: jealousy. You are quite the philosopher for one so young, kis holló It was an ugly emotion - this wave of noxious green that drowned her mind and blackened her gaze. She knew she should run from it, to mentally distance herself from such a mundane and common sort of fledgling response, yet she simultaneously wanted to go deeper into it. To let it morph and contort her thoughts into rage and hate. It was so much easier to be jealous, than to simply admit your shortcomings. The girl harbored knowledge - her mind felt vast and open - a marina just waiting for ships of wisdom to sail into and dock. But for all the limitless potential she possessed, she could not force those ships to her. Perhaps she could seek them out, but there would always be more to find. Apparently this boy had found one; a ship possessing a language that was foreign and strange to her ears. Her eyes closed, and her breath exhaled slowly. As her flanks expanded and contracted with her breath, the bark which had formed along her flanks fell uselessly to the ground, appearing like some strange mulch. "I don't know what that means." She replied evenly, pushing away her insecurities and deepest desires. The girl had devoured all that came her way, storing trinkets of information in vast storerooms in her mind. She could not be faulted for being ignorant of that she had no chance to learn. "But I suppose I am. Philosopher is a title given to those driven towards a life of contemplation. I find their normativity insightful and refreshing. Where I live is full of pragmatists-" Realizing she had shared more than she meant to, the girl fell silent. Her golden gaze wide with apparent surprise that the words had fallen so easily from her lips. At his question, the girl shook her quad-horned skull. In truth she didn't have any ideas. Not yet at least. There was too much of the world that she was unsure of (or completely unaware of as Volterra had recently demonstrated) to pin herself down to one moniker just yet. "Nothing in mind yet. Names are important, but not necessary. I have learned that there are many ways words can refer without being names. For instance I could say, "The red dragon called bleeding, and anyone who knew what Vérzés was called, would know of who I was referring. Similarly there are many ways I might referred to. Offspring of Kahlua or God of the Earth, even girl who can become a raven. Perhaps they are longer .. and perhaps they might pick out more than one individual but ... " Her shoulders shrug helplessly. She had watched those in her herd give rants on seemingly nothing at all, and spew endless words in anger, love, and joy. Why could they not spare a few more, to refer to her without a name? Were names simply the lazy and succinct way with which to refer? Volterra Lips pursed together, her golden eyes linger on his ruby stare waiting for more words though none come. "Does your name mean something as well?" Perhaps it didn't - perhaps that was why he had given his dragon a name with meaning, to make up for the fact that his name held none? |
