Ayano was once again to be found standing precariously close to the edge of the cliff, it was not that she enjoyed the daring risk such a stance took, such a thought never entered her mind. No it was more that here there was nothing in the way of her and the wind, it swirled up from the land below which mixed and mingled with the colder more harsher winds which bellowed down from the north side of the mountains and ripped right threw it, it cleansed and cleared her mind, perhaps one could argue to be able to think more clearly but for Ayano it was more to sweep away thoughts of sorrow and eternal lost for a companion she could not hope to replace.
His sweeper had broken, sadly. Days of constant use and rather meticulous checkups upon the dens had worn the branch down, and it had simply snapped in half that morning when he was doing the alphas' abode. Twiddle had blinked once at the sound and stared longingly at the object before picking up both pieces tossing them out, and heading up the mountain for a better, sturdier specimen to use Without much thought to where he went, the wolf found himself retracing familiar steps back up, just as he had that day of frightening storms - he hadn't visited up much since then, but it was logical in his mind to think that there were hardier trees upwards; after all, they lived in more adverse conditions. Surely he would find his next dust sweeper somewhere Of course, re-tracing as he was, Twiddle blinked confusedly for a moment when he found himself in the nearly same position he had when he had first found Ayano, and there it was that she stood near the cliff's edge. The only difference it seemed was that it was a different day, a different weather pattern. "Have you a new painting?" he asked without introduction or greeting.
Ayano did not turn for a moment, more lost in the ecstasy of being close to empty of all emotion and thought but something called to her, a somewhat familiar voice. She stirred and carefully she rolled her head over her shoulder to catch sight of Twiddle. She simply looked at him, blinked and then turned back to look out of the landscape below. She did however answer his question, her words being carried back upon the wind, 'I do not feel like painting this moment.'
That sounded odd to him, as she had found the muse during a storm, a rather ill-timed activity when the rain began to wash away her work - yet she found none during the calm day with nothing to distract her? "Strange," he commented, blinking at her back. "Or perhaps not strange. The spark of imagination cannot occur in peace, but in storms. Have you seen a sturdy tree in your studying of the landscape yet?"
She listened to his reply, it was somewhat muted to her ears due to the soothing rush of wind caressing her ears but she caught them enough to understand. She turned then, carefully and took a pace towards him before resting again, facing him seemed only right. 'I can't control such things, it comes and goes, I paint as it when my heart wishes it, when I can't bare the weight upon my heart.' A rare smile blossomed on her face, 'Today,' She looked up at the sky, 'today the air is clear and it floods through my being, I feel free.' The smile eased and she looked purposely back at him. 'I have not seen a sturdy tree, I haven't really been studying the landscape, I was simply, being.' She looked at him for a moment and then added, 'Why do you ask?'
Well that didn't seem very reliable then, muse. But then, perhaps that was the tempering of any great thing, as Nature often did: something that could create obviously could not be controlled . . . "'Simply being'?" Twiddle repeated curiously. "Am I not being by not sitting? Or is it not being by not doing as you do to find it? My being here is not the same as this 'being' you mean, is it?" He was
side-tracked quickly by a simple word, forgetting that she had asked about what he was doing. It was the wolf's flaw, to put aside all else for clarification.
'Hmmm' she mused aloud. 'I do not mean being as in existing, I suppose I used it as more of a term to simply express when I push all thoughts and emotions from my mind and I enjoy just simply being in the most simplest of forms.'
"Then you mean meditation," Twiddle corrected her. "It is a more concentrated version of what you were explaining and more definitive than simply 'being'. As for the branch, I have in need a sturdy branch to clean, for the one I normally used was snapped this morning as I worked. I will let you continue your being in peace, then, if you wish." He began to turn and look for the next possible route, knowing that the more time he used up in conversation here would burn the daylight he needed to catch up for the work he was not doing now.
She listened to his correction and nodded slowly in acknowledgement though to her meditation seemed a step further and one she had not yet mastered, she was content to simply rid herself of thoughts of bereavement and lost that she felt looming over her when her mind strayed to thoughts of Turtle. Thinking about why she pushed such thoughts from her mind only made them start flooding in and she tightened her eyes closed as she pushed them away again. Opening them again she looked at Twiddle and an idea sprung to mind, if he had a task he could set her to doing something to occupy her mind seemed just as good as try to free it, much like her reason and cause for painting. Their conversation never seemed to flow, they seemed to understand that the connective phrases weren't always required, they knew what the other wanted without saying them and that was enough so what she said may seemed abrupt but to her it seemed right, 'I'll help you look for one.'
Twiddle didn't question her change of mind, but merely nodded and then turned to begin their trek upward. Who knew, maybe that was the muse talking in her. "My thanks," he said as they walked. "This should not be long before you may return to meditation. I do not know trees well enough to suggest what to look for, other than to try your weight on branches and see how they bend."
'Do you get bored of simply cleaning?'
He shook his head. "That is my sole job and what I am depended on to do. Regardless of how long it is, the monotony of it falls well under the paws after a time."
Her brow line furrowed a little, 'But why do it?' She was not questioning the need for cleaning more the need to do it as a role within a pack. Ayano had travelled from place to place, never having settled anyway and always travelling with Turtle, she had not know the life of a true wolf and what it meant to be a member of a pack.
"Because there is always a need to do what is necessary for the upkeep of a pack. There will always be a lower rank as there is an alpha. To me, it does not matter what I do - it is the will of the alpha to give me a job that I accepted. A clean den brings a sense of accomplishment and with it the betterment of the wolf who lives within. Unless you enjoy living i collective trash?" Twiddle asked,
probing rather than sarcastic.
She could understand that to an extent, the sense of accomplishment she could not understand at first, though upon thinking upon it she remembered all the times she felt pleased with herself and realised it had been the times where she had achieved even the smallest look of praise or warmth from Turtle, was having an alpha to work for and respect much the same? To the questioning tone that hung in the air after his words Ayano simply replied, 'I do not think I would, though I have never stayed in one place long enough to gather, trash.'
A wandered, eh? This didn't surprise him for some reason. "As did I," he said with a slight nod, though his eye was scanning about for possible sweeper candidates. "I never considered it would be rewarding to be put to work for someone else, but I do not see it as work so much as it is a responsibility, which we all have, yes? I benefit from it as much as anyone else does. Have you been traveling much before you came here?"
His sweeper had broken, sadly. Days of constant use and rather meticulous checkups upon the dens had worn the branch down, and it had simply snapped in half that morning when he was doing the alphas' abode. Twiddle had blinked once at the sound and stared longingly at the object before picking up both pieces tossing them out, and heading up the mountain for a better, sturdier specimen to use Without much thought to where he went, the wolf found himself retracing familiar steps back up, just as he had that day of frightening storms - he hadn't visited up much since then, but it was logical in his mind to think that there were hardier trees upwards; after all, they lived in more adverse conditions. Surely he would find his next dust sweeper somewhere Of course, re-tracing as he was, Twiddle blinked confusedly for a moment when he found himself in the nearly same position he had when he had first found Ayano, and there it was that she stood near the cliff's edge. The only difference it seemed was that it was a different day, a different weather pattern. "Have you a new painting?" he asked without introduction or greeting.
Ayano did not turn for a moment, more lost in the ecstasy of being close to empty of all emotion and thought but something called to her, a somewhat familiar voice. She stirred and carefully she rolled her head over her shoulder to catch sight of Twiddle. She simply looked at him, blinked and then turned back to look out of the landscape below. She did however answer his question, her words being carried back upon the wind, 'I do not feel like painting this moment.'
That sounded odd to him, as she had found the muse during a storm, a rather ill-timed activity when the rain began to wash away her work - yet she found none during the calm day with nothing to distract her? "Strange," he commented, blinking at her back. "Or perhaps not strange. The spark of imagination cannot occur in peace, but in storms. Have you seen a sturdy tree in your studying of the landscape yet?"
She listened to his reply, it was somewhat muted to her ears due to the soothing rush of wind caressing her ears but she caught them enough to understand. She turned then, carefully and took a pace towards him before resting again, facing him seemed only right. 'I can't control such things, it comes and goes, I paint as it when my heart wishes it, when I can't bare the weight upon my heart.' A rare smile blossomed on her face, 'Today,' She looked up at the sky, 'today the air is clear and it floods through my being, I feel free.' The smile eased and she looked purposely back at him. 'I have not seen a sturdy tree, I haven't really been studying the landscape, I was simply, being.' She looked at him for a moment and then added, 'Why do you ask?'
Well that didn't seem very reliable then, muse. But then, perhaps that was the tempering of any great thing, as Nature often did: something that could create obviously could not be controlled . . . "'Simply being'?" Twiddle repeated curiously. "Am I not being by not sitting? Or is it not being by not doing as you do to find it? My being here is not the same as this 'being' you mean, is it?" He was
side-tracked quickly by a simple word, forgetting that she had asked about what he was doing. It was the wolf's flaw, to put aside all else for clarification.
'Hmmm' she mused aloud. 'I do not mean being as in existing, I suppose I used it as more of a term to simply express when I push all thoughts and emotions from my mind and I enjoy just simply being in the most simplest of forms.'
"Then you mean meditation," Twiddle corrected her. "It is a more concentrated version of what you were explaining and more definitive than simply 'being'. As for the branch, I have in need a sturdy branch to clean, for the one I normally used was snapped this morning as I worked. I will let you continue your being in peace, then, if you wish." He began to turn and look for the next possible route, knowing that the more time he used up in conversation here would burn the daylight he needed to catch up for the work he was not doing now.
She listened to his correction and nodded slowly in acknowledgement though to her meditation seemed a step further and one she had not yet mastered, she was content to simply rid herself of thoughts of bereavement and lost that she felt looming over her when her mind strayed to thoughts of Turtle. Thinking about why she pushed such thoughts from her mind only made them start flooding in and she tightened her eyes closed as she pushed them away again. Opening them again she looked at Twiddle and an idea sprung to mind, if he had a task he could set her to doing something to occupy her mind seemed just as good as try to free it, much like her reason and cause for painting. Their conversation never seemed to flow, they seemed to understand that the connective phrases weren't always required, they knew what the other wanted without saying them and that was enough so what she said may seemed abrupt but to her it seemed right, 'I'll help you look for one.'
Twiddle didn't question her change of mind, but merely nodded and then turned to begin their trek upward. Who knew, maybe that was the muse talking in her. "My thanks," he said as they walked. "This should not be long before you may return to meditation. I do not know trees well enough to suggest what to look for, other than to try your weight on branches and see how they bend."
'Do you get bored of simply cleaning?'
He shook his head. "That is my sole job and what I am depended on to do. Regardless of how long it is, the monotony of it falls well under the paws after a time."
Her brow line furrowed a little, 'But why do it?' She was not questioning the need for cleaning more the need to do it as a role within a pack. Ayano had travelled from place to place, never having settled anyway and always travelling with Turtle, she had not know the life of a true wolf and what it meant to be a member of a pack.
"Because there is always a need to do what is necessary for the upkeep of a pack. There will always be a lower rank as there is an alpha. To me, it does not matter what I do - it is the will of the alpha to give me a job that I accepted. A clean den brings a sense of accomplishment and with it the betterment of the wolf who lives within. Unless you enjoy living i collective trash?" Twiddle asked,
probing rather than sarcastic.
She could understand that to an extent, the sense of accomplishment she could not understand at first, though upon thinking upon it she remembered all the times she felt pleased with herself and realised it had been the times where she had achieved even the smallest look of praise or warmth from Turtle, was having an alpha to work for and respect much the same? To the questioning tone that hung in the air after his words Ayano simply replied, 'I do not think I would, though I have never stayed in one place long enough to gather, trash.'
A wandered, eh? This didn't surprise him for some reason. "As did I," he said with a slight nod, though his eye was scanning about for possible sweeper candidates. "I never considered it would be rewarding to be put to work for someone else, but I do not see it as work so much as it is a responsibility, which we all have, yes? I benefit from it as much as anyone else does. Have you been traveling much before you came here?"
