Post by Tibald on Dec 9, 2007 0:58:00 GMT -5
((OoC: Re-writing my last thread, which I had deleted while trying to modify.))
A stargazer sat on the riverbank with his grey head upturned to the winter theater. Earlier in the night, he had been annoyed to find that the stars were heavily blocked by the canopy, and he wasted an hour trying to find a meadow, and instead found a river. The rat sighed. No matter. The stars were just as easy to see at the river as they would be at a meadow that he would most likely not chance upon anyway.
Tibald dipped his muzzle to the river and drank. It chilled his teeth. 'Should have expected that.' He held his cloak tight to his chest, and turned to rest on the grass. He hummed a pleasant tune for a while, occasionally glanced up at the sky. Tibald had always felt a connection to the stars. Perhaps it was his love of nature, or of the small things that life offered.
The rat shook his head. No... it wasn't just the small things. He loved the bigger things as well. There was always that verminesque lust for power, and that wasn't small, was it? Tibald though about it, and eventually decided that most things were just as large or small as each other. Eating was just as important as being a powerful rat, after all.
He had forgotten all about why he had come to the river. Tibald was too lost in his own contemplative thoughts to stare at the star. Eventually, he removed his satchel and withdrew a some parchment. He inked a quill, and began writing a new addition to his philosophy. 'This will be famous, eventually,' he muttered,'everyone in the world has theirs... I'll have mine one day.'
The rat heaved himself off the grass floor. He went to drink again, and sat down again. He didn't feel like writing. He hummed an improvised tune, instead. Perhaps another intrepid traveler would join him. No... anyone would be fine. 'Persecution,' Tibald decided,'Is pathetic.'
A stargazer sat on the riverbank with his grey head upturned to the winter theater. Earlier in the night, he had been annoyed to find that the stars were heavily blocked by the canopy, and he wasted an hour trying to find a meadow, and instead found a river. The rat sighed. No matter. The stars were just as easy to see at the river as they would be at a meadow that he would most likely not chance upon anyway.
Tibald dipped his muzzle to the river and drank. It chilled his teeth. 'Should have expected that.' He held his cloak tight to his chest, and turned to rest on the grass. He hummed a pleasant tune for a while, occasionally glanced up at the sky. Tibald had always felt a connection to the stars. Perhaps it was his love of nature, or of the small things that life offered.
The rat shook his head. No... it wasn't just the small things. He loved the bigger things as well. There was always that verminesque lust for power, and that wasn't small, was it? Tibald though about it, and eventually decided that most things were just as large or small as each other. Eating was just as important as being a powerful rat, after all.
He had forgotten all about why he had come to the river. Tibald was too lost in his own contemplative thoughts to stare at the star. Eventually, he removed his satchel and withdrew a some parchment. He inked a quill, and began writing a new addition to his philosophy. 'This will be famous, eventually,' he muttered,'everyone in the world has theirs... I'll have mine one day.'
The rat heaved himself off the grass floor. He went to drink again, and sat down again. He didn't feel like writing. He hummed an improvised tune, instead. Perhaps another intrepid traveler would join him. No... anyone would be fine. 'Persecution,' Tibald decided,'Is pathetic.'
