Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
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Post by Flame on Oct 22, 2012 4:18:00 GMT -5
Aidan lets himself be led forward, certainly not about to argue if he's been given permission. He tries to mind his feet and let the dryad guide him; he doesn't want to mistakenly step on anything fragile. He listens, too, as he follows. She's getting better and better with her English, it seems.
"Her family?" he echoes. Did someone transplant this strange, lovely thing here? He wonders; after all, he didn't understand everything, but he's sure he heard far and should be. She also said here special. What is so special about this little patch of dirt in the city that all these plants took root? A thought for later, when he doesn't have to focus on keeping his hands to himself even though he wonders about the texture of the spathe, if the leaves are as firm and waxy as they look.
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Shanodin
Major
The Chamberlain, Her Chivalrous Immensity, Lady Botanica. The Unyielding Vanquisher of Weed Killer
This is NOT her field of dreams
Posts: 700
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Post by Shanodin on Nov 6, 2012 12:54:12 GMT -5
Shanodin merely nods at the repeat of "family." The dryad remembers her family suddenly, and with a sharp pang. She misses them, cold and mechanical though some may be. She misses her older family, the one she left behind when she was brought to this universe.
She misses her love.
She sits down and leans back against the plant. The plant in turn curls around her in a fair approximation of a hug. The dryad looks up at Aidan.
"Have you family?"
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Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
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Post by Flame on Dec 5, 2012 11:18:20 GMT -5
He wasn't expecting to field any questions about himself. Aidan stammers briefly, flustered at the sudden shift in topic. For a moment, he can't remember if he has any family. For a briefer moment, faint smudges of memory dart through his mind – but no human being comes in the colours he thinks he sees. No human speaks the words he thinks he remembers hearing. He nearly repeats them, but that his very human vocal cords simply can't reproduce some of the sounds. Something about the imperfection annoys him.
He recovers with only a second or two lost to the ripples shifting his thoughts and gives the dryad a sad smile.
"I'm afraid I've outlived most of them," he quietly confesses. "But I still have my Leann. My…." What is the proper word for her place in his life? Lover has lurid implications that don't belong in the conversation; girlfriend sounds so immature. "…She's the loveliest flower I've ever seen," he finally says.
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