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 Posted: Sat Mar 26, 2011 6:35 am
 _____________: : Process of Creating Life : :
Alexandr/Verchiel
"I wish it didn't have to be so warm..." Alexandr whined to himself as he brought one hand up to push his glasses further up his nose. His frowning face mocked him from across the reflective surface of his cup of coffee and he stuck his tongue out at it in an attempt to ease the all the frustration that was building up. He really was hopeless, bickering with his cup, wasn't he? Shoving the cup aside he pulled the book he was reading closer and stared at it for a couple minutes, unable to motivate himself enough to do anything.
He let his head fall against the pages and he took a couple of moments to savour the feel of the paper and the rich smell of the ink across the pages and almost instantly found himself smiling. He had spent his whole life in between countless stacks of books so it was only natural. But the stimuli still wasn't enough to push him into actually doing any work all the same. "That's a shame..." he mumbled to himself, stretching his hands above his head to sit straight up again. Just about the moment he was going to wallow in despair and wish for someone to save him from his misery he heard the knock on the door...
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Posted: Sat Mar 26, 2011 6:50 am
 _____________: : You know, sometimes there are those days... : :
and then there are those days...
Uhh, let's see... it's actually late, it's very late. I had the itch to write ever since all of this started but that was midday and now it's well past midnight if so I dare say. My back and hands feel kinda sore from all the box-and-book carrying and the cleaning but when I tried lying down I found myself unable to sleep.
So, as I said, it was midday, I was slacking off, I can't even recall what I was trying to read at that point, unable to find the motivation to work at such a hot day when this man came by. Verchiel Cornet... Corbet. I have to still look at the card he left behind trying to memorize the name. I guess it'll be pretty embarrassing if I called him that by mistake when he can hear me. That aside... he came by claiming he was one of Amerald's assistants and that he came to deliver what had something to do with what me and that man discussed during our brief encounter -when was that again, I always seem to forget such details-. I was surprised to say the least, not to mention he came off as somewhat intimidating; to me at least. All these formalities can make you uncomfortable, you know?
When he showed me the feather I... panicked. I won't deny I did as much as I tried to hide it. I tried recalling what I knew about the Pin-Tailed; aggressive territorial desert-dweller, the females lay their eggs in the nests of finches. So, supposing the child's personality would be anything like the bird's I'd be either stuck with an irresponsible, selfish little girl or a little bully-in-the-making. Never underestimate the Whydah, I've seen these little guys chase off hawks from their territory while I was travelling; they really aren't the kind to kid around. On the other hand Verchiel told me it was up to me to teach the 'newborn' about life, so I guess it's all left up to me. I dislike conflict. Maybe I should try to teach it that?
Well, I wouldn't as much admit it to myself but I was still overcome by fear while he left me behind, all alone. Part of me wanted to scream at him not to leave me. Not by myself with this feather that could transform, awaken into a child all of a sudden -and what am I supposed to do then? He said Hraapea are just like normal children but I was never a parent, not before, of course. All I have to go by is my parents' knowledge on the matter; maybe I should read more on it tomorrow or something like that, yes...
I catch myself peering at the feather whenever I happen to walk by the spare room upstairs. I placed it there after I was done having a staring contest with it downstairs; actually, that was after I decided nothing was going to happen if I were to leave it unattended for a little while. It's almost as if I'm expecting it to occur, but of course nothing should happen quite as soon -I can wish all I like and still nothing will come from it. So, I keep carrying things -books- back and forward trying to tidy up the place and get myself busy with something. I must have made a terrible first appeal to poor mister Corbet -did I just get his name right?- and I'd rather not make an equally dreadful one to my child -oh dear, can I even call it that? Is it my child, really?-.
It's tiring, it's all so very tiring. It's about time I admitted it to myself. A tiring day indeed. I feel like spreading myself all over anything and falling asleep, but instead I'm here, writing this as if possessed by an unknown force. It really is exhausting though; the heat, the cleaning up, even the events that just gang up on you like worthless cowards instead of appearing one at a time... and still I find myself in a state that feels like I'm intoxicated. I feel fulfilled; fulfilled in a way I haven't felt in years... and then I have to wonder if this is normal, if it is how it should be.
I'm acting like a woman who is expecting a baby, aren't I? This is all so embarrassing... I wish there was something I could do about it.
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