[ As he approaches, he rotates slowly. Showing off all angles of his jinba shape without hesitation, red and sleek as he had been that day he'd run until his blind terror was left in the dust. Until he'd heard her laughter and dozed with her on the banks, among the reeds, under the sun; coming to her in this form, in Alenroux, feels right. A little like paying homage to her uniqueness, and her struggles as a woman who was not, in the least, bipedal.
He's never found anything strange about her. A jinba was, to him, as easy to look upon and find nothing foreign about as it was to have been simultaneously born of the night sky, his starry-breasted mother. His predecessors had oft been created in the image of animals, and shifted their form between flesh, world and beast without issue. To find accommodations for her lacking was a mark of mortal nearsightedness and limits, not divine issue.
Maybe it is why he does this, among the fields and growing domiciles of Alenroux. To be like her, and show solidarity - though, maybe like the centaurs of Kenos, he does not fully match her experiences. Her knowledge. Her existence as a jinba. ] That is a jnhm. A pomegranate. We had them in Egypt, so I am familiar with their seeds.
[ Beautiful things, glistening like jewels. He reaches out to the fruit, grasping it in his fingers and examining it for breakage. It'll need to be broken, to access the seeds, which are also the most tender and flavored part of the thing. ]
To grow something from seed requires a little more work, I have been taught. The seeds within must be freed and kept inside your home, until they begin to grow their roots. They respond to warm temperatures and sunlight. Once they begin to reach that stage, they can be planted. We can work step-by-step.
[ What he did not learn from observing his brother, or asking questions of him, he was shoring up on from the workers in the Greenwood Yards. ]
Something like this could easily become the first stages of a garden, you know.
no subject
[ As he approaches, he rotates slowly. Showing off all angles of his jinba shape without hesitation, red and sleek as he had been that day he'd run until his blind terror was left in the dust. Until he'd heard her laughter and dozed with her on the banks, among the reeds, under the sun; coming to her in this form, in Alenroux, feels right. A little like paying homage to her uniqueness, and her struggles as a woman who was not, in the least, bipedal.
He's never found anything strange about her. A jinba was, to him, as easy to look upon and find nothing foreign about as it was to have been simultaneously born of the night sky, his starry-breasted mother. His predecessors had oft been created in the image of animals, and shifted their form between flesh, world and beast without issue. To find accommodations for her lacking was a mark of mortal nearsightedness and limits, not divine issue.
Maybe it is why he does this, among the fields and growing domiciles of Alenroux. To be like her, and show solidarity - though, maybe like the centaurs of Kenos, he does not fully match her experiences. Her knowledge. Her existence as a jinba. ] That is a jnhm. A pomegranate. We had them in Egypt, so I am familiar with their seeds.
[ Beautiful things, glistening like jewels. He reaches out to the fruit, grasping it in his fingers and examining it for breakage. It'll need to be broken, to access the seeds, which are also the most tender and flavored part of the thing. ]
To grow something from seed requires a little more work, I have been taught. The seeds within must be freed and kept inside your home, until they begin to grow their roots. They respond to warm temperatures and sunlight. Once they begin to reach that stage, they can be planted. We can work step-by-step.
[ What he did not learn from observing his brother, or asking questions of him, he was shoring up on from the workers in the Greenwood Yards. ]
Something like this could easily become the first stages of a garden, you know.