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 Posted: Sun Apr 12, 2015 8:15 am
 Solid under. Above, rustling, pulling, gentle. Also rough. Slithered down. Rustled. Good. Under, solid. Tickled. Waved, like stuff up above, tickled nose and stuff way far out there. An involuntary pull inwards and the newly-woven was aware for the first time of his own body, his own solid corporeality. Proprioception spread from his shoulders like a slow blast of air, snaking up into his head and darting into the very tip of his tail. Where once all he felt were disconnected movements, now everything had a connection, a cohesive quality that spoke of existence beyond mere feelings.
He was aware that there was something rough but gentle rustling across his--back. And his neck. Along his neck, it felt gentler, but along his back, much rougher. He was aware, also, that there was another part of him being rustled by the wind, something stiff and immobile that covered his limbs like...er...stiff fur. He felt something pulling at his cheek with every burst of wind, and dimly he felt something batting at his shoulders in conjunction with the pulling. Underneath him, pressing his lower limbs up against those protected upper limbs, was something solid and immovable. Except that there was obviously something on it, something like the thing batting his shoulders, and that thing was tickling his nose. Or things, plural. It was like fur, but coarser, much coarser. He decided then and there that he did not like that thing that was tickling his nose. Once again, his body moved without his permission--this time, something above his nose.
Little silken curtains rose and suddenly there was too much light. Two gelatinous orbs in his face screamed, and he quickly slammed those curtains shut again. Pain. Ow. He didn't like that, either. His head turned towards the solid thing, which forced those tickling hairs into slots in his nose he had not even known that he had. That settled it. In his first ever voluntary movement, the newly-woven gathered his lower limbs beneath him and heaved himself to his feet. His upper limbs he shook out, and was surprised by how different they were from his lower limbs. These didn't have pads on them. Instead, they just had...well, those coverings. And this action, this standing, it felt good. Not only good to force that lovely feeling down his shoulders once more, but also good to be away from that solidness. Now, instead of forcing up against his whole body, only the pads at the bottom of his lower limbs were pressed against the solid thing, and he could feel the wind batter at his whole body. It was invigorating!
Now if only he could open those curtains once again. This time, though, he was clever--he lifted those long, flexible upper limbs over his head. A twitch of the furthest joint pushed his long, stiff coverings out even further. Once he felt darkness claim his face once more, the newly-woven opened his curtains again, and looked around the world he had awoken in. The first thing he saw was the solid thing, the ground, and those hairs he hated so much. They were green. Even in his current state, that did not seem natural. But when he lifted his head and his--wings--to look upwards towards the air, with the wind now placing its firm benediction against his face, he saw the sky, and that was good. That was right and proper. That was the way the world should be, and now he was aware of his lungs, because that vista took his breath away.
He was standing at the edge of a grassy rock floating in a vast blue-ness. Off in the distance were puffy white mountains, and a few more of green and brown, rough and angular. The sun was shining down on them from that direction, and he could see infinity stretching out before him beyond them. He turned around to face the other way. In that distance, there were flat black rocks of the same substance as the white ones. These faded in gradients to dark grey, but they towered across the horizon, stretching up towards the zenith and down towards the nadir. The newly-woven's face twitched. He felt something soft move up his face, like the curtains--lids--that covered his eyes. It was his mouth, wasn't it? It had curtains of its own, lips, and now they settled. Now that the sun was no longer in his eyes, he lowered his wings. But he did not fold them. Instead, he let them spread out, let them feel the wind across his--feathers.
It was intoxicating. And the moment was etched on his heart and his soul forever.
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Posted: Tue Apr 14, 2015 12:29 am
The newly woven was slowly learning himself. From paw to tail, from nose to spine. It was the most fragile point in any B'alam's being. At this time, their adult mind rushed to grasp the world around them. Their newly woven body learned itself, and within those precious moments the half-spirit bound itself into its vessel. Thoughts, feelings, emotions, and characteristics flooded the being in a few precious heartbeats. The foundation of character and personality took their roots and began to spread. It was in this time that a B'alam was most impressionable. They were thirsty to learn, thirsty for answers and identity.
He smirked as the youngster opened his wings for the first time, tasting the wind. He already thirsted for the sky though he didn't know why. He couldn't comprehend the feeling of flight yet but somehow he longed for it.
"Keep that up and in time they will grow strong." Shandor announced, his voice deep and peppered with a rolling accent. There was a playful charm to it with a shadow of danger lurking on the edge of every word.
He rolled his shoulders and leaned forward, catching an easy breeze that carried him down to the silky grass below. He leaned back, stroking the air as he stretched out his paws and touched the earth. With practiced movements, he brought his wings out, flapped to kick up a bit of wind, then folded them neatly against his broad ebony back.
"Welcome to the world."
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Posted: Tue Apr 14, 2015 8:15 am
There was, behind the newly-woven, a sound, a shifting of the wind that swept the island. It sounded like the wind across his own feathers--sort of--but also shaped by something unknown. Another set of wings, perhaps. And that is how the newly-woven learned that he was not alone in this world.
He did not know enough to be afraid of such an idea; only mild surprise filled him and prompted his feet to turn him around. Standing behind him was a blinding, white figure covered in glinting, shining things. Once again the newly-woven's body taught him something new--the squint. Those lids gathered to meet halfway across his eyes. It blocked out the light--very useful. He would have to remember it in the future, when looking at the clouds or, indeed, when looking at this new one in front of him. The new one had spoken. The newly-woven tilted his head, first one way, then the other. He watched the other fold his wings against his back. How silly. There was not as much wind singing against them that way. The newly-woven himself lifted his own wings, then lowered them, experimentally. The wind changed wherever he moved his wings--both because of them and because of reasons unknown. The wind was slower nearer to the ground. Hm. Why was that, anyway...
The new one had spoken--which is to say, he had made a noise with his mouth. Mouths could make noise? Something that was not the wind could make a noise? What a shocking thing! It was alien to him, but then, so short a time ago, so had standing been to him. The newly-woven was not wise enough yet to be surprised that he understood the sounds that met his ears, nor that he knew how he could respond in like kind. How extraordinary. That he could respond as such and that he, too, could make a sound with his mouth.
He did not need to think about a reply--there really was no need to think. He did not yet know about diplomacy, nor deceit, nor any of the other half-dozen lies that shape our conversations. He knew about himself--mostly--and that was all he needed to say to reply. Anything else would have been unnecessary clutter that slowed his response.
Speaking did not require a change of his facial expression--he kept his lips perked up as he spoke his first words. "What will grow strong?" He had no idea what the other had been talking about--nor had he any idea of what the stranger meant by a "welcome." To his surprise, he knew what the word meant--it was a greeting and an invitation, all in one--but he did not know what the phrase meant. Welcome to the world? The...everything, as his mind somehow knew that word meant? What a silly thing to say. Why had the new one, the "stranger" said that to him?
A new kind of thought came to the newly-woven: Who is he? he wondered. This stranger?
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Posted: Wed Apr 29, 2015 8:25 pm
Riddle-mouth smirked as confusion played over the newly-woven's face. His mind would be reeling, making sense of everything around him. Touch, sight, smell, sounds, and the emotions that began to course through him. He currently lacked the ability to mask his emotions. He didn't have reason to. His expression shifted with his mental processes. It was entertaining and...very strange. He had been in his position but perhaps with a little more....insight. This one was under his care, he knew that much. He couldn't explain the protective, almost possessive way he viewed his winged brothers and sisters but it was almost as natural as breathing, and just as essential. It was his purpose.
The question, the newly-woven's first spoken words, earned only a smirk. Rather than explain, Shandor opened his wings and jumped forward. It wasn't a long distance, but he demonstrated a near perfect leap and glide. His paws brushed the grass and his body shifted as he closed the gap between himself and the other. He folded his wings along his back and raised his chin.
"Your blessings. Your lifelines." He began to circle, opening one wing then the other. "The connection between you and the endless sky- your wings, brother, your wings."
He tilted his head. "All things grow stronger in familiarity."
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Posted: Thu May 07, 2015 9:28 pm
The stranger's face now smiled just as his own did. Slowly, so slowly, a new emotion took over the newly-woven's mind. It was a sense of wonder and attachment, a sense of holding and staying, of being and watching. He felt...alike with the stranger. This was one like him, but even those words did a poor job of describing the new feeling. The new one's word was close, so tantalizingly close to meaning what he needed it to mean--familiarity. No. That was not right--not quite right. He was not "familiar" with this one, he was...something else. Some attachment. Some "blessing," some "lifeline." He wondered what it was.
He lifted his wings as he had before, and he moved them--slowly at first, then quickly--up and down, up and down. A wind rose from beneath them, and the grass trembled at it. Warmth spread up the course of the newly woven's smile. "I like my wings...brother." He looked up at the sky, then out towards the edge of green. The green grass and brown rocks ended at a point, where the sky took over. The newly-woven stepped slowly towards the edge, paw step by paw step, and looked down below the rock.
What he saw shocked him--not more blue, but more brown and green, far, far below! He quickly stepped back. No. That was wrong. He looked back up at the blue sky. "How do they connect me to the sky, though?"
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Posted: Mon May 18, 2015 12:08 am
"And you must make your wings like you back."
He folded his wings neatly along his back and joined the newly-woven by the edge. For him, the edge didn't send a wave of terror through his bones. For him, the edge brought a flash of lightning through every strand of fur and every feather shaft. It meant that he was just a breath away from freedom. There was nothing like the moment of lift-off. The moment the ground was left behind and the wide, endless sky embraced his form, bringing him closer the way a mother would her cub. That moment when his stomach flew into his toes and his body seemed boneless. It was a moment that this one would soon live for.
He stepped back and looked over to the newly-woven. "Bar." He said simply. "That is our word for "Brother". You must learn to speak the common tongue before you can speak the proper tongue." He opened a wing and touched it to the newly-woven's left wing, "Just as you must learn the common way of living before you can learn the proper way."
He jerked his head inland and started towards the center of the island. It was a lonesome place, but a fortunate place. Far from the capital but not too far. Here there would be less distractions, simple jumps from smaller boulders. Tame winds wound their way against the surface, through the rocks, and down over the edge. There would be no sharp updrafts or slipstreams to surf on here- nothing to snap a newly-woven's wings from his shoulders.
"One paw in front of the other- soon they'll be long gone from under you. Get used to it, Bar. Wake those muscles."
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Posted: Mon May 18, 2015 1:42 pm
It was not the distance that disturbed the newly awoken B'alam so. It was...the feeling of wrongness. There was something down there that should not have been down there. It was just like the thing up here that he walked upon, but it was down there, where the sky should have been. He suppressed a shudder and turned back to the stranger. "I would like to learn how to please my wings...bar." Was that right? He liked the sound of the word, so much shorter and more intimate than mere "brother." Brother, though a word he only now realized that he had already known, was...not good enough. Bar. He liked it better.
It had not been long since he had come to be, awake with the understanding of language, and even less time since he had first met this stranger, but the newly awoken was beginning to understand the complexities of the language the stranger was using--and what complexities! He said "common tongue," and he referred to it often. Common, so that was what he already knew. And there was something that the other called the "proper tongue." That must have been what the word "bar" came from. It was Brother in the proper tongue, the one that he must learn.
Yes, he must learn it. A burning desire was beginning to grow within his heart, and the longer he was awake, the more and more he felt a connection to the pale stranger. He...looked up to him. The stranger was here, here for him. He had come when the newly awoken B'alam had awoken. He followed the stranger without question. The stranger would teach him what he needed to know. He twitched his left wing, still feeling the pressure the stranger's pinion had left upon his limb. He moved his paws--one, then another, each following in the stranger's footsteps.
"I have much to learn, don't I?" he asked. It was a simple question, and one he already knew the answer to. But he felt like he needed to say it--to show that he knew there was something he needed to learn from the stranger, many somethings. "Please teach me, bar. There is so much, I can already tell."
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Posted: Mon May 18, 2015 10:19 pm
"We all have much to learn, Bar. Some of just just have more to learn than others. It will not take you long to learn the basics. From there-", he turned and smirked, "Well. Learning what to learn is another matter entirely. I cannot help you in that road, but I can equip you so that you can face it."
He nodded ahead. Several boulders rose up off the silky ground. They had enough footholds to make interesting challenged for a newly-woven and they rose up high enough that the new pair of wings could fill up with a good leap outwards. It was as good a place as any to learn one's body.
"One must walk before they can run-", Shandor jumped to the first rock, a boneless movement, and climbed up to sit atop its steely blue surface. "And one must learn to climb before one can reach the sky. Your body will learn itself the more you test it."
He jerked his chin to the stone beside him. "Up, Bar. Introduce yourself to your claws."
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Posted: Sun Jun 28, 2015 10:29 pm
The newly-woven watched in awe as the other padded over to a rock and leaped smoothly and effortlessly onto it. As the other did, blades slid out of his paws to claw at the rock and drag him up. He made it look so easy, but...but the other said that he himself, the newly-woven one, could do it. Or at least, that was the way he understood it. This did not seem to be much like walking or running, but...the other had been awake longer. So he knew more--and what was more, he never said precisely what he meant. So...
This was a test. The newly-woven stared down at his paws. Something had come out of his bar's paws. So there was something inside his as well. He tensed his paws, and with a stroke of delight, he saw a pair of blades--claws--as blue as the sky above and below slide easily out of his paws. So. That was how he pulled them out--no. That was...his introduction to his claws. The newly-woven looked up at the other, and his ever-present smile widened even more. He did as the other had, tensed his back legs, and, when he felt they were tensed quite well, he pushed himself off the ground and reached out with his claws.
He was not quite as graceful as his bar, but he managed up the rock with only a slight twinge of the claws as he dragged them up the rock. He did not like the feel of his claws against the rock, the way the rock pulled at his claws as if it wanted to yank them out to slow him down, but his wings...ah, what marvelous limbs were they! As he leapt, he felt his wings, of their own accord, stretch out as if to catch the wind in their soft embrace. They wanted to move. They wanted to...fly. And so did he.
"Where to next, bar?" he asked as he settled himself beside his teacher.
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