Flint Madden (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flint_garou) wrote2012-01-16 08:45 pm
flint_garou) wrote2012-01-16 08:45 pm
Entry tags:
Differences.
Dreams and differences and talk.
16 January, 2012
The moon is in the waning Half (Philodox) Moon phase (46% full).
The presence of snow on the ground since earlier evening has driven Flint down from the roof and back to the cubroom, where he's perched on the edge of his bunk, jacket hung from the edge next to him. The faint humming from the past several days has emerged into an actual strain of mostly coherent melody, though he starts over several times, tapping his fingers against his knee.
In the doorway appears Devon, hair and shoulders damp from the weather outside. He pulls his jacket off as he steps into the room, running the fingers of his scarred hand through his hair. The Ahroun seems politely oblivious to the humming coming from Flint, though the cub does earn a nod when he gets near the bunk.
The cub looks up, apparently distracted enough by the Ahroun's presence to stop the humming. It was a decent enough melody, though. "Hey, sorry," Flint says, looking down at Devon. "Just, thinking, I guess."
"About what," Devon asks, draping his jacket on one of the ladder rungs to the upper bunk. He sits on the edge of his bed, bending at the waist to untie his shoes and remove them.
Flint shrugs, a motion that even with the boy's slight weight does shake the frame of the bed a little, due to his perch, pulling legs up from dangling over the side. "Uh. Humming?"
Devon pauses briefly, first shoe half way off, while he considers the answer. "Cool," he decides, removed shoe pushed under the bed a little and the second shoe started on. "How've lessons been going?"
Flint goes quiet for a moment himself, and even still, as in turn he thinks over the answer. "Good, mostly? Kevin's been taking me to Edgewood a bunch, working on some stuff there." Vague, but the cub sounds cheerful enough. Even if 'stuff' really means 'knife fights'.
Devon pulls the other shoe off, pushing it under his bed alongside its mate. "What sort of stuff," he asks, straightening then arching his back a bit, stretching. He reaches for his jacket after, delving into the pockets.
"Fighting, a bit," Flint says. "General stuff, too. Or as Kevin so aptly put it, stabbing me." The cub sounds genuinely amused at this, overall. "I'm getting better at it, though."
A couple of small objects are pulled out of his coat pocket, held in his hand to keep their status concealed. Devon's eyes lift upward to look at the bunk above before stretching out on his own mattress, transferring the items in hand to his pants pocket. "That's cool. And useful to know." His hands come out of his pocket, eyes studying the scars that cover one forearm and hand. "You hear of anything else going on? Any news about… anything?"
"No," comes the response, a small hint of frustration pushed out of Flint's voice rather quickly. The cub still peers slightly over the edge of the bed, head now propped up on his elbow. "Not really. Little more about the dreams earlier, who had what dream and all. Kevin-rhya said he's going to try and compile an actual list, not just the talking that's been done? Where the correlations are, but it was just talk and puzzle pieces, nothing even got figured out."
"Don't know whether to feel lucky or left out," Devon says, folding an arm behind his head. "Haven't had any of those dreams. I'm kind of useless for that whole problem, no one'll give me enough information to work off of, and what information I do get I'm told I'm being closed minded when I try to speculate about what's happening."
Half a shrug is visibly made, Flint using his free arm before hanging it back slightly over the edge of the bed. "The dream itself was annoying. Puzzle pieces, and all," the cub says, "and not easy to forget, even the one dream is enough to be nagging." A pause, and the boy fidgets slightly. "Not that people tell me that much either, so. Which means, more puzzle pieces."
"Don't take this the wrong way," Devon says, bending a little so he can look over the edge of the upper bunk without actually leaving the lower. "But as a cub, you got plenty to focus on without being deeply involved in the whole thing. At least what little bit you've seen, you're able to help some." He slides back onto his bunk properly, sighing. "Feel like I just need to shut up and wait for them to tell me what to hit. They don't care that I might be able to think something through or give good suggestions."
"Wouldn't be so bad if the damn ark dream didn't nag at me," Flint responds, grinning. "But, it does, and well. Puzzles, pretty much." The grin fades and Flint falls silent, sitting up now to peer over the edge some more.
Devon has fallen silent as well, gaze slanted off to the wall side of the bunk. "Whatever," he says, more to himself than to Flint. "I should sleep, got work to do tomorrow."
The cub pauses, nodding. "Yeah. I suppose. I… might be up a while yet," Flint says, quiet. "Humming was more, trying not to think."
"Hum all you want, s'your room too." Devon turns over so he's on his stomach, head burrowing under his pillow.
16 January, 2012
The moon is in the waning Half (Philodox) Moon phase (46% full).
The presence of snow on the ground since earlier evening has driven Flint down from the roof and back to the cubroom, where he's perched on the edge of his bunk, jacket hung from the edge next to him. The faint humming from the past several days has emerged into an actual strain of mostly coherent melody, though he starts over several times, tapping his fingers against his knee.
In the doorway appears Devon, hair and shoulders damp from the weather outside. He pulls his jacket off as he steps into the room, running the fingers of his scarred hand through his hair. The Ahroun seems politely oblivious to the humming coming from Flint, though the cub does earn a nod when he gets near the bunk.
The cub looks up, apparently distracted enough by the Ahroun's presence to stop the humming. It was a decent enough melody, though. "Hey, sorry," Flint says, looking down at Devon. "Just, thinking, I guess."
"About what," Devon asks, draping his jacket on one of the ladder rungs to the upper bunk. He sits on the edge of his bed, bending at the waist to untie his shoes and remove them.
Flint shrugs, a motion that even with the boy's slight weight does shake the frame of the bed a little, due to his perch, pulling legs up from dangling over the side. "Uh. Humming?"
Devon pauses briefly, first shoe half way off, while he considers the answer. "Cool," he decides, removed shoe pushed under the bed a little and the second shoe started on. "How've lessons been going?"
Flint goes quiet for a moment himself, and even still, as in turn he thinks over the answer. "Good, mostly? Kevin's been taking me to Edgewood a bunch, working on some stuff there." Vague, but the cub sounds cheerful enough. Even if 'stuff' really means 'knife fights'.
Devon pulls the other shoe off, pushing it under his bed alongside its mate. "What sort of stuff," he asks, straightening then arching his back a bit, stretching. He reaches for his jacket after, delving into the pockets.
"Fighting, a bit," Flint says. "General stuff, too. Or as Kevin so aptly put it, stabbing me." The cub sounds genuinely amused at this, overall. "I'm getting better at it, though."
A couple of small objects are pulled out of his coat pocket, held in his hand to keep their status concealed. Devon's eyes lift upward to look at the bunk above before stretching out on his own mattress, transferring the items in hand to his pants pocket. "That's cool. And useful to know." His hands come out of his pocket, eyes studying the scars that cover one forearm and hand. "You hear of anything else going on? Any news about… anything?"
"No," comes the response, a small hint of frustration pushed out of Flint's voice rather quickly. The cub still peers slightly over the edge of the bed, head now propped up on his elbow. "Not really. Little more about the dreams earlier, who had what dream and all. Kevin-rhya said he's going to try and compile an actual list, not just the talking that's been done? Where the correlations are, but it was just talk and puzzle pieces, nothing even got figured out."
"Don't know whether to feel lucky or left out," Devon says, folding an arm behind his head. "Haven't had any of those dreams. I'm kind of useless for that whole problem, no one'll give me enough information to work off of, and what information I do get I'm told I'm being closed minded when I try to speculate about what's happening."
Half a shrug is visibly made, Flint using his free arm before hanging it back slightly over the edge of the bed. "The dream itself was annoying. Puzzle pieces, and all," the cub says, "and not easy to forget, even the one dream is enough to be nagging." A pause, and the boy fidgets slightly. "Not that people tell me that much either, so. Which means, more puzzle pieces."
"Don't take this the wrong way," Devon says, bending a little so he can look over the edge of the upper bunk without actually leaving the lower. "But as a cub, you got plenty to focus on without being deeply involved in the whole thing. At least what little bit you've seen, you're able to help some." He slides back onto his bunk properly, sighing. "Feel like I just need to shut up and wait for them to tell me what to hit. They don't care that I might be able to think something through or give good suggestions."
"Wouldn't be so bad if the damn ark dream didn't nag at me," Flint responds, grinning. "But, it does, and well. Puzzles, pretty much." The grin fades and Flint falls silent, sitting up now to peer over the edge some more.
Devon has fallen silent as well, gaze slanted off to the wall side of the bunk. "Whatever," he says, more to himself than to Flint. "I should sleep, got work to do tomorrow."
The cub pauses, nodding. "Yeah. I suppose. I… might be up a while yet," Flint says, quiet. "Humming was more, trying not to think."
"Hum all you want, s'your room too." Devon turns over so he's on his stomach, head burrowing under his pillow.