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RHODOC
louder than god's revolver and twice as shiny
louder than god's revolver and twice as shiny
Bang.
Bang, bang.
I'm in the middle of one of the best naps of my life when I hear it: this erratic, gods-awful banging that sounds like two trees having sex. Usually, when a noise wakes me, I can only grumble for a moment before I give up and roll over to fall back asleep. But such is not the case now, because this racket is so off-beat and odd that it practically begs me to investigate.
I uncurl from my ball of warmth and set off towards the noise, fully intent on chastising whoever thinks this percussion is acceptable to be played at a nap-interrupting volume. As I'm stepping through the underbrush, I toss tresses of blue-tipped mane from my eyes and try to remind myself that not everybody is as tone apparent as I'd like.
When I step into the clearing, it isn't only Lord Rikyn I see but a small, earth-colored deer with intricate antlers and a stick. A stick that is being hammered over and over again - out of time! - against a hollowed log. I don't know what it is he's trying to accomplish, but it's definitely not music.
I raise my head and look between the two before finally settling my gaze on Rikyn. "Your friend is incredibly off-beat," I greet him, but not without the flicker of a smirk. I also tilt my head towards the deer himself and flash a smile, for good measure. "Where I come from, if you played like that in front of a Lord, you'd get your head cut off." Not that I know how to beat a stick against another stick any better, but still. At least I know it isn't supposed to sound like that.
Bang, bang.
I'm in the middle of one of the best naps of my life when I hear it: this erratic, gods-awful banging that sounds like two trees having sex. Usually, when a noise wakes me, I can only grumble for a moment before I give up and roll over to fall back asleep. But such is not the case now, because this racket is so off-beat and odd that it practically begs me to investigate.
I uncurl from my ball of warmth and set off towards the noise, fully intent on chastising whoever thinks this percussion is acceptable to be played at a nap-interrupting volume. As I'm stepping through the underbrush, I toss tresses of blue-tipped mane from my eyes and try to remind myself that not everybody is as tone apparent as I'd like.
When I step into the clearing, it isn't only Lord Rikyn I see but a small, earth-colored deer with intricate antlers and a stick. A stick that is being hammered over and over again - out of time! - against a hollowed log. I don't know what it is he's trying to accomplish, but it's definitely not music.
I raise my head and look between the two before finally settling my gaze on Rikyn. "Your friend is incredibly off-beat," I greet him, but not without the flicker of a smirk. I also tilt my head towards the deer himself and flash a smile, for good measure. "Where I come from, if you played like that in front of a Lord, you'd get your head cut off." Not that I know how to beat a stick against another stick any better, but still. At least I know it isn't supposed to sound like that.
@Rikyn
![[Image: Rhodoc_pixel1.png]](https://s23.postimg.org/dbgsr791n/Rhodoc_pixel1.png){kind=tracking}
Please tag me in all posts!
Magic/violence cool whenever.
