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tushanshu_logs2016-03-03 07:25 pm
shroudofgray) wrote in tushanshu_logs2016-03-03 07:25 pm
(no subject)
Characters: Yorda and You!
Date: Throughout March
Location: Various places in Keeliai and on the turtle
Situation: March Catch-all!
Warnings/Rating: None for the time being.
A - Sing Nonomori
Yorda had fallen in love with music. She had never known anything quite so wonderful in her life (though granted, you could fill an entire library of things normal teenage girls knew that Yorda had zero concept of), and every time there was a performer in the streets, she'd listen to their songs utterly enraptured.
1-She had soon learned that giving these performers money or food was customary, and she'd taken that to heart. She didn't need to eat. There had been no food in the castle - and certainly nothing as wonderful as pastries or bread or the strange wriggly things the food vendors sold (sea prunes had become her favourite dish). It made sense to Yorda that the performers would want something in return for their work, and so she set about trying to find as much money as she could.
The thing was, Yorda had a knack for finding things. She was better than a bloodhound in some respects - once she set her mind to something, there wasn't much use dissuading her. She could be found around the city, rummaging in drains, bins or various other locales for lost coins. More often than not, she was in the way. But she'd also acquired quite a tidy sum.
2-Yorda had grown so enamoured with music that she had wanted to try singing for herself. She found herself an empty alleyway that she could have all to herself to whittle away the hours practicing. She had a reedy, thin voice. It was the kind of voice that had never shouted or made any sound more impassioned than a small exclamation of surprise. As she tried to sound out the words, her voice cracked and broke like spun glass hitting concrete. Eventually she clamped her jaws shut, her brow knit in frustration.
She was doing something wrong, she knew. But what? How did the street singers make such melodious sounds when all Yorda could manage was something somewhat less awful than a cat sliding down a chalkboard?
B- The Root of all Evil
Yorda never had money before. She didn't even know what it was until she came to Keeliai.
Now she had a jingling bag of coins, and for the first time in her life, she was faced with a real conflict of interest.
The dress was a pale yellow and had a tasteful and subtle pattern of birds and flowers embroidered along the skirt and sleeves. Yorda's face was pressed against the glass. She knew the right thing to do was to give the money to the musicians. But she also wondered if she shouldn't save some of it for herself to buy something other than the thin white dress she'd arrived in.
It wasn't like she needed it, nor could she afford it at this second - but for the first time in her life, she wanted a possession to call her very own.
Eventually the store owner had to shoo her off, though she looked back longingly at the display, hugging her bag of juulan just a little tighter.
Date: Throughout March
Location: Various places in Keeliai and on the turtle
Situation: March Catch-all!
Warnings/Rating: None for the time being.
A - Sing Nonomori
Yorda had fallen in love with music. She had never known anything quite so wonderful in her life (though granted, you could fill an entire library of things normal teenage girls knew that Yorda had zero concept of), and every time there was a performer in the streets, she'd listen to their songs utterly enraptured.
1-She had soon learned that giving these performers money or food was customary, and she'd taken that to heart. She didn't need to eat. There had been no food in the castle - and certainly nothing as wonderful as pastries or bread or the strange wriggly things the food vendors sold (sea prunes had become her favourite dish). It made sense to Yorda that the performers would want something in return for their work, and so she set about trying to find as much money as she could.
The thing was, Yorda had a knack for finding things. She was better than a bloodhound in some respects - once she set her mind to something, there wasn't much use dissuading her. She could be found around the city, rummaging in drains, bins or various other locales for lost coins. More often than not, she was in the way. But she'd also acquired quite a tidy sum.
2-Yorda had grown so enamoured with music that she had wanted to try singing for herself. She found herself an empty alleyway that she could have all to herself to whittle away the hours practicing. She had a reedy, thin voice. It was the kind of voice that had never shouted or made any sound more impassioned than a small exclamation of surprise. As she tried to sound out the words, her voice cracked and broke like spun glass hitting concrete. Eventually she clamped her jaws shut, her brow knit in frustration.
She was doing something wrong, she knew. But what? How did the street singers make such melodious sounds when all Yorda could manage was something somewhat less awful than a cat sliding down a chalkboard?
B- The Root of all Evil
Yorda never had money before. She didn't even know what it was until she came to Keeliai.
Now she had a jingling bag of coins, and for the first time in her life, she was faced with a real conflict of interest.
The dress was a pale yellow and had a tasteful and subtle pattern of birds and flowers embroidered along the skirt and sleeves. Yorda's face was pressed against the glass. She knew the right thing to do was to give the money to the musicians. But she also wondered if she shouldn't save some of it for herself to buy something other than the thin white dress she'd arrived in.
It wasn't like she needed it, nor could she afford it at this second - but for the first time in her life, she wanted a possession to call her very own.
Eventually the store owner had to shoo her off, though she looked back longingly at the display, hugging her bag of juulan just a little tighter.
A1
Why would she be scavenging like that? If she was new, the Welcome Center should have taken care of her. If she wasn't, surely someone would have taken her in by now (he was fairly certain she couldn't have been here long; he had a good memory for people).
"What are you doing?"
no subject
"Finding things. For the people who sing."
Because that would just explain everything, right?
no subject
"What kind of things?" he asked.
no subject
She held up a coin triumphantly. "Many of them buy their food with these, but not always do people give them such coins and they hunger. But I am good at finding things."
She had made a sort of game of it. How many coins could she find in a set amount of time - that sort of thing. Judging by the way the little satchel bulged, she wasn't kidding about being good at finding things.
no subject
no subject
"I am Yorda."
Her tone was a tad reproachful. Nicknames were new and uncharted territory for her, and she wasn't sure what to think of this. Still, she approached as instructed, curious as to how one got money without getting dirty.
no subject
He rummages around in his bag and pulls out a cloth and a bottle of water. "Here, clean up."
no subject
"I like bityket better than 'Yorda'," she said with a nod, taking the water and cloth. "But I do not know if I am a bee. What are you called?"
She scrubbed away the worst of the grime and muck. He feet were filthy, but there wasn't much helping that. She seemed to be allergic to shoes.
no subject
"There's nothing wrong with Yorda," he said. "I just like to hear my own language sometimes. Names held power, a long time ago. My name is Bakura," he added, although he gave it in the inflection used in modern time, not how it had been pronounced in Egyptian.
"Better," he said, when she'd cleaned herself up. "Are you hungry?"
no subject
she said it in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she were declaring the sky blue and water wet.
"I am glad to meet you, Bakura. Though, I am not hungry. I ate an om.." she hesitated, brow furrowed. She'd forgotten what it was called. "Om-lit? It was good. It had red things in it."
no subject
Yorda's childish nature wasn't something that often seemed to arrive in Keeliai. She didn't seem like she should be that young -- indeed, she seems in her mid-teens -- but at the same time, her mannerisms struck him as more inexperienced than stunted.
"Where are you staying?"
no subject
It was probably a miracle Yorda was as well-adjusted as she was, all things considered.
"I stay at the Midnight Hotel. Anton Shudder is very kind - he has allowed me to do chores." That may have been a sign Yorda was a bit eccentric - no self-respecting teenager could sound that enthusiastic about cleaning their own messes, let alone others'. "There is a man with hair like ravens who comes to cook food. He made the omelettes yesterday."
She studied Bakura for a moment. "Yours... it is more like doves."
no subject
"Kind... I'm not sure that's the word I'd use to describe the djadjut, but I suppose if you're on his good side, he seems such."
The thief snorted a bit at the comparison. "Doves, that's a new one. Someone likes her bird analogies."
no subject
That was about the most thrilling part of most of her days.
"What does iyad-" She paused, mouthing first what he said before. "...What does djadjut mean?"