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 Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2011 6:42 pm
Though it was far from likely that the other wolf would notice, Marion found herself nonetheless touched by Twiddle's little story, by the love and respect with which he remembered the refuse he had worked with. Her face softened as she considered him, and elevated her opinion of him accordingly.
And then it was time for her story. She felt oddly put on the spot, and not quite capable of pulling an epic tale out of her little baby blanket of a pelt. Squinting again, she vigorously shrugged a shoulder, scowling troubled off into the distance. "It's bearskin," she offered, "from a full-grown bear." Now she was looking down. "My mother skinned all sorts of things." And back to Twiddle. "You would make a great pelt, you know, with that tuft of fur you got on your head? It'd be jaunty as hell." And, overcome with anxiousness at sitting still, she lept to her feet, ears pricked, tail flagging. "I'm Marion, by the way," she instructed.
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Posted: Sat Jun 04, 2011 7:54 pm
Funnily enough, Twiddle followed her head movements faithfully - wherever she looked, he too would turn curiously, just to make sure that it wasn't just some sort of tic of hers. One never knew, after all.
"My thanks for the compliment," he answered upon Marion's comment about his potential at being a great pelt. "Stretch my fur out and you would see a dragon design - it would make a good centerpiece for a den, I imagine."
For all of Marion's restlessness as she moved to her paws, Twiddle remained seated and slightly hunched over - far too calm when talking about his own skinning. Or rather, too curious about it.
"A bear . . . You might have been one in another life," he commented, tilting his head to the side as if it offered a different perspective of the she-wolf. "Stocky build, self-sustaining . . . most likely skilled in defending yourself. Female bears are the most dangerous, I am told, especially when with her brood. Are you the same?"
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Posted: Sun Jun 05, 2011 5:47 pm
She gave a little bark, her body jumping ever so slightly as she began to leap toward Twiddle to see the dragon, only to realize in an instant it was rather too dark to really appreciate it. She remained sitting instead, looking fiercely agitated. "I'd love to skin you if you died," she crooned, a wistful note gleaming in her beady eye.
"I have a powerful swipe," she confirmed, becoming grave as he entered the topic that was as close to religion as Marion was like to come. The beady eyes blinked, blinked. "But what do you mean in another life?"
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Posted: Mon Jun 06, 2011 7:30 pm
"I would not be skinned by any other," Twiddle agreed, satisfied that his living will had been settled, and so agreeably - apparently he saw nothing in Marion's brief irritation at being unable to fully appreciate the aforementioned design.
"Another life is meant as it sounds: another life. Some believe that each soul inhabits a new body upon death, gaining new experiences with each life span that brings it closer to the ultimate perfection: nirvana," Twiddle then explained, yawning midway. "Some say this explains the deja vu phenomena, or why we sometimes dream of things we have never seen or heard before. And some also say that lifetimes that were spent learning nothing become burdens to be shrugged off once one begins to become enlightenment."
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Posted: Fri Jun 10, 2011 6:53 pm
True to its nature, Marion's brow furrowed deeply as the wolf listened to Twiddle speak. Being the daughter of the Master of Shadows, her experience with spiritual belief was equal parts everyday practicality and meaningless rhetoric, a sort of lazy half-belief in darkness that surely seemed to whisper secrets, but never to her. This was her first foray into any spirituality that was not her parents', and she was giving it a go, but..."Do YOU remember your other lives?" It just seemed like a very large thing to have never noticed before.
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Posted: Fri Jun 10, 2011 9:46 pm
Hmm . . . He pondered this.
It was a rock. A curious rock with a curiouser question etched within. He picked it up in his jaw: no answer in its taste. He shifted it on various sides: no answer in its angles, in its smoothness or roughness or rigidness. No answer in the dirt that clung to its underbelly. No answer in the sound it made as it fell back to earth from a second inspection of taste.
Twiddle thought it was all happening in his head, but he literally was enacting this thought process before Marion with the closest rock available. It probably was entertaining to look at if nothing else.
Eventually Twiddle looked back up to the she-wolf, licked his lips, and responded: "I do not know. Perhaps I am a new soul. My memories do not stretch back further than perhaps . . . five months." And he certainly looked older than that.
"Do you ever experience memories that are not yours, in return? Or sensations that you have done something before without having ever done so or been somewhere before without having visited prior?"
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2011 2:31 pm
Marion watched him with wedded ambivalence and delight; as his investigation of the rock went on and on, she realized ecstatically that he was drawing his answer from the stone. Fantastic! She pondered quickly if she could do the trick herself as he finished searching.
Her little eyes narrowed as he named the age of his memory, but that already seemed like a lost cause given how poorly he responded to interrogation. "I don't think so," she answered slowly, pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth to taste for her own answers. Nothing. "You know you're more than five months old, don't you?" She looked thoughtful, still a fierce expression on Marion. "Maybe you got reborn into someone that wasn't dead yet."
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2011 6:31 pm
"Am I?" he asked with an inflection that couldn't determine between rhetorical or genuine curiosity. Maybe he was a soul reborn in a newly dead corpse. It could explain his lack of memory, the feeling of being detached from this body, the draw towards the metaphysical. The seemingly dead body of a brownish wolf before him, something sticking out of its head, blood covering it: his first memory.
A bloodstained black ribbon about his throat: his first sensation.
Or maybe he had simply experienced a major psychotic break five months ago and was now under the influence of an unstable mind, carving out a new path away from where he was born. But he certainly didn't feel dangerous.
"Thank you for the conversation, Marion Bear-Heart," Twiddle said after a pause, standing. "I have much to contemplate. Will we meet again?"
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Posted: Mon Jun 20, 2011 5:10 pm
Marion stood with him, her gaze intent. "I want to meet you again," she confirmed as best she could, and was overcome by a vigorous coat-shake. When it subsided, the look she landed Twiddle was unmistakably affectionate, a rare result when playing the chance of Marion's reactions. "I want to hear what you figure out." She blinked, firmly, as if forcing him reluctantly away with the motion. "Goodbye."
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