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12-25-2015, 04:04 PM
I'd rather be a riot than indifferent; this means war Rasta sighed, even if she was struggling on figuring out whether to stay or to go, she knew that she needed to at least assist the herd that was giving her refugee for the time being. A gentle movement had her turning back toward where the healer garden was - where the bookshelf had been made. She arrived to feel vines and rocks as well as timber. Still, the mare who had been doing the crafting seemed to be struggling in trying to get the timber over to the bookshelf. "You put the logs together, darling. I got the trees," Rasta said, a gentle smirk on her face as Ettore went to rest by the egg, which he assumed was Brisa's. Carefully, Rasta began to pull at the roots. Each one would come up from the ground and start to push the logs. When it stopped another would appear behind it and push it forward again. This continued, basically creating a conveyor belt for Brisa to pull the logs from once they reached the bookshelf. Rasta looked over toward the other mare, who had questioned what Brisa was doing just as Rasta had come up. The old Mason in her had her offering a task for the mare, should she wish to help. "I'm Rasta, pleasure to meet you. Perhaps you could find some more logs for me to help bring down. If you find them and I move them the process will go much quicker in the end. Then Brisa can use it to craft whatever addition to the healer section she was planning on adding." It was tiring work - much more exhausting because of her lack of crafting magic to keep some of her parts in place. Even though the air had been cooling down, sweat was beading against her pelt as she concentrated on pulling up each root in time to keep the momentum on the logs and then pulling up just enough roots to stop the log so it didn't crash into Brisa or the other mare in the end. "It's nice to know that even if I leave, someone will care enough to take pride in building things here…" Rasta murmured, spilling thoughts out loud and not truly realize that she was even doing it. Aye, she supposed it didn't even matter. Brisa seemed to be one that she would call a friend - for she didn't dislike her, and she didn't love her. All the same she was far more tolerable than most - and she had yet to make note of her blindness, of her inability to see the colours that surrounded them and created the most beauty in the world. #oldmasonvibes @Brisa fire in the- fire in the- fire in the- fire in the hole |
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Mystified, just spinning 'round in circles
Drowning in the silent screaming with nothing left to say
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Mystified, just spinning 'round in circles
Drowning in the silent screaming with nothing left to say
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