What's In A Name?

[grantuseyes]

Micolash sits cross-legged on a table. Strewn all around him are ink pots (some overturned and spilled), parchment paper (in stacks and scattered alike), pens and nibs and a few sticks of charcoal. His fingers are stained with ink and there are a few splotches somehow on his face and on his pinstripe trousers, along with a dark handprint on the metal collar of his cage. The side of his left hand, the one he's currently holding a pen with, is smudged even worse with black.

There are discarded drawings all around him, some that look like false starts on some manner of monsters. Some are just pages crammed with drawings of eyes, or scrawls repeating phrases or rambling prose. Some are crumpled up into paper wads or have half-hearted attempts at scratching out or erasing the contents.

The parchment Micolash currently has in front of him is being scrutinized by the scholar. Looking over his handiwork and trying to determine if it passes whatever muster he's going for. It's certainly a drawing of SOMETHING.

Whatever verdict he's pondering, it doesn't prevent Micolash from looking up and addressing whatever person is wandering close to his work station.

"What does your name mean? Do you know? Do you care?"

Comments

[delphicbooksandbaubles]

She raises an eyebrow at him. She huffs out a breath through her nose. In a harrumphing manner. "Cruelty can take many forms..Especially when someone thinks they're doing things for the right reasons. " She murmurs simply but firmly back. Crossing her arms. The ends shouldn't justify the means but a good bunch of folk tended to think so. She tried her best to be a student of history in any realm she traveled or stayed in. Macheivillan examples there were aplenty.

Her ear we're firmly back now as she squinty/glowers. She makes a scoffing disbelieving sound. "People don't need fur or scales to be beastly." She retorts twitching her nose again. True giving into baser instincts of certain kinds we're bad. But there were instances of other sorts that were why any race could survive. Fight or flight, nurturing, making nests and dens, bonding and courting rituals. Sharing a meal. Her eyes soften slightly as an old memory or two niggles at the back of her mind.


Before rolling her left shoulder and then squaring both of them. She sighs softly, stubborn much? She half wryly thought, though another part of her understood somewhat of what such events and traumas could do to a person. Ok perhaps talking wasn't gonna cut it? She half thinks as she tries to ponder perhaps another tactic.

She squints and frowns at him again, oh that just rubbed her the wrong way her hairs went up and bristled along with the sudden goosebumps again. She looks down at the hand. Her arms still crossed but.. the fingers of her left-hand curl slightly. Before looking up at him again. Trying to do so straight on, as she debates trying something through her eyes start to go a bit golden. The color of molten coins or honey. The shade of which some of the poets might compare or equate to the moon at it's fullest.

Which was when the sunlight was reflected brightest by the moon. As well as for were kind has an extra pull. In the beliefs of some of her ancestors. The divine twins who represented or ruled both heavenly bodies were two sides of one coin. And even though Apollo was one of the patrons of wolf kind, there were called children of the moon and well most thought that to be Selene. But Artemis was guardian and lover of the wild places, creatures, and the hunt. Among other things.

She smirks wryly and wolfishly, and a little bit sorrowful. As she reaches for the small parcel in her bag. As she replies, "I think ya need to do your homework, Professor. " Before aiming to put the pocket-sized wrapped gift into his palm instead keeping her fingers to the edges of it.

[grantuseyes]

His own eyes, dark-ringed without sleep, ice blue without warmth or kindness, widen with amazement at the shift in his friend's eyes. (To think he still considers her a friend, despite all he's said!) He wishes he could examine them closer! Pry them open with a pair of fingers, examine the pupil for collapse, another telltale sign of beasthood and blood-drunkenness. Recollection of such examinations makes him recall the countless, countless times he's plucked eyes from heads to fill jars, to populate slide plates, to dissect. If he just had his tools again...

Micolash's smile has been plastered into a wide rictus this whole time, fixed and forced. Manic. It doesn't falter, but the corners of his mouth twitch when she deposits something into his hand, his eyes flicking down to look at that instead. He's confused, but the confusion seems enough of a distraction that Micolash sits back once more, pulling his arm back in to peer down at the parcel instead now. Might be the best chance to make a run for it if she cares to. Micolash isn't in his right mind, but when is he ever?

[delphicbooksandbaubles]

Her own eyebrows go up in ah more wry sort of 'oh gee like I'm so scary, not.' sort of way. Well least right now she wasn't trying to be that wouldn't help nothing. The healer side of her notes the signs of lack of sleep..but the other makes her steel her nerves and temper her compassion with caution.

They would likely look healthy except for whatever faults in them that necessitate the need for glasses/specs in her human form. Her Long range still had blurriness to it at a certain point.

Her nostrils flare a mite, her instincts kicking in at the show of unloving muscles. Most Canines took the bearing of teeth as a sign of aggression. She blinks though when he does the latter though. She takes a step back still keeping her eyes on him. A part of her torn..She couldn't just let him cause trouble for others..but mhhm..perhaps she should try and find or contact Micolash's host. Yes that would perhaps be the best course. She thought as she chances another step or two.

The parcel would be silvery and blues, with some ribbon and rectangle shaped. Though with some squishy parts on top, and a hardback book like feeling on the bottom.