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 Posted: Thu Feb 11, 2016 4:11 pm
This is a PRP between Sebastiana Kontrina (DIvena & DivenasMom) and Mr. Ian Woon (Bardess Ookami)  
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Posted: Thu Feb 11, 2016 4:15 pm
RP Logs Bardess Ookami A healer did not always need a horn to heal, and wounds were not always physical. Sometimes they were visible, even the ones that were not physical, and a healer who only tended to what he could see, or worse, who only sought to heal the physical wounds that could be seen was a healer that failed those who needed him. Or her, he supposed.
Mr. Ian Woon worked hard to be a healer who did far more than just fix the surface wounds. He understood that pain in the soul could hurt as much, if not more, than a broken leg or sprained wing. So yes, he had a horn, yes, he could heal cuts, bruises, and the ilk, but more… Ah, but more. More he could do.
More he strove to do.
There were a great many ways to heal the wounds not caused by sticks and stones. For the old proverb, while meant to comfort was all the security that a lie could ever offer, for that was what it was. A lie. Sticks and stones could break bones, this was true and was in his mind uncontested. But words. Ah, words could indeed hurt. They could heal as well, but that was far harder. That was what he strove to learn. Healing with his horn came naturally, healing with his words took work. Training. Effort.
He put in that effort.
He had studied since he had been a foal, how words were used since time immemorial, by cultures of all races and species, to teach, to aid, and to heal. Lessons learned could be shared through story and aphorism. And stories could do more than just teach. They could explain, they could share empathy. They could heal.
So he learned tales, he listened, he wrote notes where he could to remind himself, and he shaped stories. He was still learning to tell them. To heal with a story, one had to be able to tell it while monitoring the patient, to be aware of what aspects help more than other and to mold the story like soft sand or clay so that the aspects that help the most shine the most, have the most impact, without being so obvious that they destroy the story.
He was working his way up to that point. For the moment, he was still trying to learn to tell the story as it was written. Once he memorized it, learned the nuances, learned where to emphasize, and what to emphasize, then… ah then…. Then he could try the next aspect, the awareness. It was a long road, he was not yet where he needed to be. He could still only heal with his horn, by listening, and through conversation. He had not yet mastered healing through the story. Yet.
What he needed at this point was practice, someone to listen to him tell the story that he was yet learning, would let him practice. He would have to tell any given story at least a hundred times as it was written, he was told, before he could master it enough to alter it on the fly. Once he could do that, then he could master that, so that eventually he could alter it not just for alterations sake or for practice, but so that the listener would be healed by the words. By their cadence, the way they spoke to the emotions of the patient, and in so speaking drew them out, pulling forth the pain so it could be lanced and healed cleanly. Such wounds always left scars, but scars were like torn muscle, healed properly, they only made the bearer that much stronger.
He was not there to take their pain, that would leave them sheltered, unable to heal on their own the next time, when he might not be there. No, he was there to help them through that wound, to teach them the stories that would help them help themselves.
Give a Soq a bale of hay, he eats for a season. Teach him to till the soil and plant the seeds and harvest the crops. Ah. Then he eats for life, and more, can raise and feed a family. Healing was hard work, both for the healer and the one being healed. But done that way, the healing lasted so much longer, served so much better. This was the sort of healer he sought to be.
Oh. Sort and sought. He rather liked that. Leaning down he used his horn to carve the words into the soil and studied them. A note to himself. He should work that into a story, it had a nice sound to it. He said the words aloud together “Sort sought” and smiled. They felt comfortable in his mouth, and would cap a cadence at either end, marking a sound set in the air when spoken. They were pleasant to the ear, as well as the tongue, and felt right in his chest.
Sort sought. He loved words that sounded so alike, and yet went so well together. He had spent years studying tongue twisters in preparation for the telling of tales, so that he could speak without stumbling, his tongue betraying him naught at all.
Speak without stumbling. He rather liked that as well. And he sought naught the betrayal. Oh, that could ever be the finest start to a story. How would such a tale go?
He sought naught of the betrayal of kin. That was lovely. He wrote the words on the ground and studied them. A new story, when he was still learning one, still trying to tell one that was not this. Naught this? No. Not. Frowning, he scuffed out the were naught in the sentence he had scribed and replaced it with the word not. He read the sentence again, to himself. He sought not of the betrayal of kin. A small frown and he removed the word of. Well, the first instance of it anyway. Of was like it, a word rather too oft used. But more often than not, he lacked a suitable replacement.
He read the sentence again. He sought not the betrayal of kin.
Okay. So it wasn’t as visually pleasing as the original had been, nor did it sooth his aesthetic sense, or his ego, but it was cleaner, and he thought it was rather more effective. And the stories weren’t for him. They were those whom needed healing.
He eyed the sentence again and sighed. This was not the story he needed to learn, not the story he intended to tell, but now… ah now… now it was the story he was driven to follow, that he wished to follow. “What do I do?” he asked his familiar. “Tell the story I have planned to practice and rehearse, write this… no, scribe this new tale,” yes, that sounded far better, “Or try and tell it as it comes to my mind, unknowing what the next word ever shall be?”
And the Plot Bunny looked onto him and said, “Tell the new tale, see where it goes!”
And the author did nod, prey as many are to the whims of the Plot Bunny, beholden to it. So he was to tell the new tale, unpracticed, unsure. But to do so he needed an audience. That decided, h set out to find someone to listen to his story. Anyone, really, other than his familiar. Plot Bunnies were kind of like the air, they came and went where they willed, pulled someone along, and had pretty much no attention span.
“He sought not the betrayal of kin,” he said as he walked, turning the words over in his mouth and in his mind, wondering where they would take him. Divena Sebastiana wasn't sure why she was wandering. Other than the fact that her rock had gotten crowded. That was it... she was looking for a new place to nap. Of course, now she found herself staring at a stallion who seemed to be mumbling nonsense to a rabbit. She considered turning around and wandering away before he noticed her, but that would have required extra steps... what to do... what to do...
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Posted: Sat Mar 12, 2016 9:47 am
RP Logs Bardess Ookami "AHA!" he exclaimed, seeing her. "Perfect, kind sir or madam, might I impose upon you for a favor?" he asked, approaching her, or was it a him? From all appearances, it would be a female whom he was addressing, but ah, in all the best stories, was it not that what seemed the most to be true was the quickest to be false? Ah! The plot twists! Th intrigue! The drama of the story, be it spoken or written! And truly was there any greater tale than that which they all penned together, each adding their bit, the unfolding drama that was life? Divena Seb flinched a bit and heaved a sigh, which would no doubt be ignored by the motor mouth. So much for sneaking away. Bardess Ookami "I am in need of an audience, you see," he said. I am a healer, but not simply of physical wounds, nay, far be it from me to restrict myself to only a single field when there are whole forests of ways in which I could help my fellow..." he stopped dead. Considered what he had just said, the words he had just used, then he scowled. "Did I honestly just say "restrict myself to a single field when there are whole forests...." He saw his familiar give a mournful nod.
He sighed, his shoulders drooping. "My apologies, good sir, or madam, you should not have had to listen to such... such...
"Tripe?" Plot Bunny suggested.
"My thanks, old friend," he said, dryly. "Yes, well, poor analogies aside," or... was that a simile? No, certainly an analogy. He was sure. Maybe. He sighed and tried once again, to address the mini before him. Unless she... or he... was actually... OH! If this were a tale, he, or she, would be a Kalona... or a Skinwalker... NO! An Angeni! Divena She stared at him, wondering if she even needed to say anything… that might not be too bad…
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Posted: Tue Apr 12, 2016 4:10 pm
RP Logs Bardess Ookami He bowed deeply. "As I was saying, and I shall attempt to be succinct," he ignored the rude snort from his familiar, "I am learning to heal by ways of story, however one early step in such a lesson, is that I need to learn to first tell a story. After that, I need to learn how to tell the story while actively aware of my audience, then I can adapt it at need so as to ensure it is a tool of healing."
"As such," he continued, "I would be ever so much appreciative," ever so much appreciative? Really? He was his own worst critic. "If you would be willing to," no, Mr. Ian Woon. No. You will NOT ask someone to sit a spell. That is tripe, cliche, and over done. Just... No. "stay a while," he said instead, "and listen to my latest tale, give me practice in the speaking of it, that I might from there improve?" Divena "Do I have a choice?" she asked, wryly, remembering the last time a storyteller pinned her in place. She yawned. Maybe a nap would be nice. Bardess Ookami "Do you have a choice?" he repeated. "Why my dear, of course you have a choice. You could choose, of course, not to assist me in my grand quest to learn new ways to help the tired, sick and injured.One always has the choice to turn a blind eye to those in need, and I should not dare to think of forcing you to assist them, or to assist me."
He frowned, and considered. "to assist? In assisting?" He tried to replay the whole sentence over in his head. There were those that said that you could not unsay a word that had been said, that you could not edit speech that has left your mouth. Their mouth? The mouth? He was unsure. But what he was sure of was that those who felt that way - about the editing, not about his grammar - lacked imagination. Were utterly devoid of it. He felt poorly for them. Perhaps once he learned to heal wounds of the heart and soul, perhaps then he could investigate a way to heal those born entirely without imagination nor sense of humor. Nor? Or? Hmmmm...
Without imagination nor humor. Without imagination or humor. Nor. Most certainly nor. Which made him happy, Nor was a more fun word. No. A word that was more fun.
And of course he had now lost track of where he had been in actually speaking. He stopped and mentally reviewed his words, wishing he had thought to write them down. Truly he needed a scribe for when he spoke. He would ask Plot Bunny, but that... would not go well, he was sure. His familiar was forever getting distracted in the middle of a task. Rather like he was doing just now. Well, bother. Okay, so where had he left off? Oh, yes.
"So in summery, yes, my dear there is a Santa Clause. No wait, wrong story." Had he said that out loud. Dang. "Delete that. In summery, as I meant to say, yes, of course you have a choice, the choice, like the power, is yours, and it always has been." Why did he feel like he was stealing from other stories at the moment? It wasn't a pleasant sensation. "Ah, cut that entire section, I am displeased with it. Trying once more. "Yes, you do have a choice. It is my sincere hope that you will make the choice that I personally consider to be the best one. Which would be, of course, to help. By listening." In case that hadn't been clear before that point. Too cluttered. in case that hadn't been clear was sufficient.
Still, all in all, while it needed work, that hadn't been such a bad job, his answering. And he liked the introspective on his own grammar and morals. He did still want to know where those references had been from, however,because he felt like he had tapped into other stories, and he was sure that they were fascinating ones that he would love to hear. Or rather, hear again. Clearly, even if he could not recall them, he must have heard them once? Right? He rather thought so. He thought so, the rather was superfluous. Divena "...." Seb stared at him, trying to sort through what he had said, then gave up after a second, as thinking was too much work. "...whatever," she finally grumbled and found a soft bit of ground to settle on.
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Posted: Sat May 21, 2016 7:01 pm
RP Logs Bardess Ookami .......whatever?......
Whatever? What ever sort of an answer was what ever? There was no agreement or dis. Um... no. There was neither disagreement nor agreement. It told him nothing. He supposed, that perhaps, it also meant that there was nothing to stop him from choosing the answer he wished and substituting it in place of the whatever. right? Perhaps. He eyed the other Soq, to see if that would fly. Or walk, or.... To see if the other might see it in the same light that he had.
She had sat. In a story, what would the implication be? Ah! Agreement! That the gruff use of "whatever" was actually, in fact, a cover to indicate that she was either resigned to, or exited about the possibility of a story. He took courage and encouragement from this.
"Thank you, then," he said with as deep a bow as he could manage without impaling the other. He opened his mouth to begin the story as he once more stood properly and... stopped.
He looked to his familiar with a small frown, having forgotten how he wanted to begin the story, but Plot Bunny would know. Plot Bunny always knew what he had been planning, when he forgot. Plot Bunny told him as much. So the Plot Bunny stood up on hind legs and whispered in his ear. He nodded. Ah. Yes.
"Are you settled comfortably?" he asked her with a warm smile. "Then we shall begin," he said. He took a deep breath, ready to tell his tale as soon as she indicated that she was ready. Divena She yawned her answer, shifting slightly. He had a soothing enough voice. She could zone out easily enough. Bardess Ookami Clearly, he was taking to long to get to the tale, and thus was boring her. He needed to begin the story, to hook her. He nodded, took his breath and began with the sentence that the Plot Bunny had whispered in his ear.
"Prologue - I don't know if you know what a Mary Sue is, I do; one saved my life. If you know about Mary Sue, then you probably think this is a sick joke, or some weird there are four of me ficlet, but I swear to you, this is true. To those of you unfamiliar with Mary Sue, I should warn you, that there are an awful lot of arguments about, her, all of the various hers, as well as the her in the cave for those of you familiar with Socrates. Mary Sue is often the author putting herself into a story as the be all, end all. You know the type. She's the Skinwalker with the tortured past that some how manages to do the impossible and throw off her curse, and under her pelt it turns out she was an Angeni all along. and then she develops a horn, or she had it all along, but because healing is one of her many many domains, she uses the horn to redeem all of the other Skinwalkers in the world and transformed them into genuinely good people. That's a Mary Sue, she can do anything, she has a tormented past, and is the hero of everything, and is usually the author inserted into the story. That's a Sue. I have heard some authors say that she needs to be killed. The Un'suluti I have met usually add 'with fire' to that sentiment. Or Earth. Or Water, what have you. Some people feel that Sues are important writing tools, that we learn that way.
"I don't know. I honestly don't. I know I wrote Sues when I began telling stories, writing stories. No one I know will admit to doing the same, but they all know people who have. I have, I'll admit to it. I'll cop to it. I wrote Mary Sue stories. Maybe I always will, because as contentious as the issues of Sues may be, she will always be something special to me. Because Mary Sue... saved my life." Divena Was this a story or a lecture? Seb could feel herself waking up not because it was interesting but because it was so boring that she couldn't sleep.
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Posted: Mon Jul 25, 2016 4:58 pm
RP Logs Bardess Ookami "Chapter one," he continued, seeing her waking up and taking encouragement from that.
"It had been a calm day for the small herd of unicorns that had taken it upon themselves to protect the small wood, to impose and enforce a sort of law upon all within it. for the safety and well being of those same souls. They were a proud herd, using their horns to protect and defend. They were also largely bored, for their territory was Not terribly sizable, and was by and large peaceful. So much so, that the locals if asked would say that the single biggest nuisance, the single most irritation threat to the peace would be the self appointed peace keeping force.” Divena He was still talking. Why was she still talking? She closed her eyes, trying to tune him out. Bardess Ookami "Despite that, the Soquili and the familiars in that territory more or less accepted them as what they chose to be. Perhaps not with grace, but as as much of a fact of their lives as the weather. It was not the most convenient thing in the world, and could ruin a day, but ultimately it was a thing to be borne, rather than one to change. Sometimes it worked for them, like a sunny day, sometimes it was more like a torrential rain, but like the weather, everyone talked about it, but no one did anything about it.” Divena Of course they didn’t do anything. No one ever did anything. It was far too much work. Like trying to ignore him now. Bardess Ookami "Occasionally, someone would avail themselves of the peace keeping force, would report to them something that they had declared a crime - if they had for example, been attacked, if they had lost a thing of theirs that they were certain had not been lost by simple accident, but rather by avarice. But this was rare, all too rare, and generally, they kept to themselves. The peace keepers were there, and to be more or less avoided. At least, that was how most of the familiars and Soquili of those lands felt.” Divena Seb was fairly sure that he was just pounding the point home. No one liked the uppity unicorns but everyone was too lazy to do anything about it. What was the point?
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2016 12:04 pm
RP Logs Bardess Ookami "However, everything changed with the dappled mare. It was with her outburst, her desperate plea that the peace shattered, and that the peace keepers realized that their peaceful world, was anything but, hadn't been peaceful for some time. It was her tear filled words that made them realize that they were, in fact, at war." Divena Seb fought not to perk at the word war. Maybe this story wasn’t as boring as she thought… Bardess Ookami He managed not to ad a dun dun dun, but it was tempting. Very tempting. Somehow he did not think this was anything at all the story he had intended to tell, he vaguely recalled something about the betrayal of kin...
And this certainly was not the story that he had penned, the one he had scribed and memorized. But this was something new, and he wanted to see where it would go. He knew, of course, what the mare was going to say, and why, he knew the hook and the twist, but beyond that he was unsure, he knew not the conclusion, he knew not the twist and turns in the path that would lead to that inevitable conclusion. He was excited to find out. He watched his audience, to see if she too was interested, he rather hoped she was. Divena She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering how long he was going to pause. Did he forget what he was going to say? Bardess Ookami He grinned, seeing how impatient she was. Clearly the hook had worked. She was, well.... hooked. Okay. he needed a better way to say that or a better word to use in place of hook. Or hooked. He would consider that later, for now, he had a story to uncover.
"The dappled mare was not the first of her kind, but the first of her kind to come to the awareness of the natives pf this land. She was the first to tell her tale, and she was the first of her kind to ask for help from those who were not of her own species. But it wasn't that she was or was not winged, it had nothing to do with her horns, her tails her hooves. She could have been of any race, and she still would not have been of theirs. For she was not at all a Soquili, no matter that she looked to be one." Divena And now Seb was confused. That made no sense whatsoever. She hated stories that required her to think. It was way too much work.
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Posted: Fri Sep 23, 2016 7:17 am
RP Logs Bardess Ookami Okay, that section definitely needed some editing, he would have to rethink it before he told it next. He needed to figure out a good physical description of her. And.. honestly... this section needed a better build in general. He was rushing to the point, because he was more interested in seeing where the story would go than in building a proper frame. Ah, first drafts.
"'Please,' she had begged the peace keepers," and here he used a slight falsetto, to indicate the difference between what he said as the narrator, and what she said as the character. "'Please,' she begged. 'You must help, the host must live!'" He watched the audience carefully. Was she interested? Divena Now there was a host? Nope, none of this was making any sense. Maybe she was listening to the ravings of a lunatic. Bardess Ookami She seemed confused, clearly she wanted to know more! Heartened and encouraged, he continued with his tale.
"'The host has to be saved,' the dappled mare insisted to the baffled peace keepers. They tried to sooth and calm her, but the poor mare was inconsolable. They promised they would help. They knew better than to promise any such thing when they didn't know the details of the problem, of course, but it was clear that anything less would do little to calm her enough to speak. They could only hope that they could keep their promise.
"Finally, they got the story out of her, slowly, as if grudgingly." Divena That sounded an awful lot like the story he was telling. She wondered, again, if he’d ever get to the point. Bardess Ookami Should he make the audience go through that? Show don't tell was generally the literary rule in story telling and writing, however, he did not think that applied here. He recalled something he had been told once by an old teacher - break a literary rule, break every rule, but only when there is a point, when it achieves something that could not be achieved as well any other way. Here he was afraid that if he showed the whole of the back and forth, all of the mind-numbing effort it took to draw forth the answer from the mare that his audience would get bored and wander off. So he cut directly to the point. Divena He was pausing again. He seemed to be deep in thought. Seb wondered, unkindly, if it was hurting him.
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