Season of Summer, Day 13, 512 AV Hund knew she needed to learn how to read, all the signs were gibberish and it would be easier if she could write down her words since more people could read than understand sign language. This was her second day in the city, she still hadn't found a job and the recruitment office for the Knighthood seemed empty at her arrival, though she wasn't sure if they would accept her in the ranks. So know she decided to find work, anything really to gain money to help her live her life in modest comfort. Her single room apartment was cozy enough for her, she wasn't a very materialistic being, having only one personal item, the wolf carving her dad gave her when she was born. Her eyes, one solid pale blue whilst the other was blue with a smudge of brown, that eye was the one that was going blind. At the moment, she was trying to find some sort of library or book store so that she could find a book that would teach her the alphabet. It would need to consist of pictures though, to help her understand, a child in most aspects. She didn't have much time to search for a book, or someone to help her, for Titus, her farm horse, needed to be paid for another night of stabling. Then, hopefully, she would find a job somewhere. Though she didn't know what job she would be particularly good at but she was willing to learn. She likely had the scent of spring flowers due to the quick wash last night, the soap she used was flowery and pleasing to her sensitive nose. She was dressed in her dusty clothes though, she hadn't had the time or means to wash them. Maybe she could find a creek or well to wash her clothes, not intending to buy any more for she was used to owning one set of clothes. She rubbed her small chin, her face a picture of elegance and yet it was on a body of a former slave. She didn't know what elegance and finery were, nor did she seem aware of her appearance, that wasn't something she was taught to care about. Hard work and diligence were more important than being pretty or wearing fine clothes. |
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Learning to Read. (Open)
A deaf Kelvic's search for knowledge.
(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role play forum. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]
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Hund - Freed Slave.
- Posts: 13
- Words: 10619
- Joined roleplay: June 7th, 2012, 7:49 am
- Race: Kelvic
- Character sheet
Learning to Read. (Open)
by Valon Ternyk on July 1st, 2012, 9:37 am
Season of Summer, Day 13, 512 AV
One callused palm rubbed over a brow dripping with sweat, flicking the fingers out and away to wick the water off after. Valon stared at his right hand with disdain; he was a bit annoyed at himself that he'd used his last handkerchief as a patch for his father's silk coat, which was rolled up in his pack for safety, two months before. Two months, he thought bitterly. Two months and I haven't replaced the damn thing. It would cost me, what, a copper miza? A silver? Anything would be better than using my bare hand. Unhappily, he rubbed his palm on his trousers, at least grateful that his vest had nothing to stick to his underarm. His worn boots scuffed the street as he moved, readjusting the pack on his back. He hadn't even considered finding a room for the night so he could put his things down.
After a few moments, though, Valon's attention diverted from the heat, from his sweat, and his anxious cheek chewing. Instead, his dark blue gaze settled on a man further down the street. His brows knitted together, his nose wrinkled, and his mouth screwed up in a stern frown. Those spectacles, that wrinkled face, seemed to be laughing at him. He knew that man, and he would rather avoid him. After all, he'd always made a point to keep out of his way when he had been a part of his father's caravan. Thinking of caravans, too, gave him a hint of agitation that only added to the rest. Those who had been part of his father's retinue had given him only the tent, horse, and pack he'd come with, plus the money he'd earned. The weapon and armor he'd always used, a worn estoc and some battered leathers, had been kept as part of the caravan's property to be divided between the surviving members of the venture. Being only a son and adopted at that, Valon had been entitled to nothing but what his father's will left him. The man with the spectacles had been an owner.
"Ploughing niggard," he cursed, turning down another street without looking. Valon remembered his father well, a jovial man until the flux had taken his health; he'd always playfully teased the man that he was a miser. Valon, though, learned from his father that there was a difference between a miserly attitude and being prudently tightfisted. As a merchant, an owner in a caravan venture's stock, he always told him he needed to know the difference to make the best profit. The spectacled man, though, had proved himself time and again to be so spectacularly cheap that he had become a joke for guards in their cups. As a result of constant bargaining and finagling, guards had begun to joke that it was easier to get blood from a stone than mizas from the spectacled man. No one had ever respected him enough to learn his name.
With his mind already bugged by his anxiety from lack of herbs and further distracted by his intense dislike for the man he took a turn to avoid, Valon missed the fact that someone obstructed his path. With his head turned, looking back over his right shoulder, his terrible hearing gave no warning. Only a scent of spring flowers, so very pleasant, gave him time enough to look back. Looking back, however, proved to be all he could do with the second that it afforded him. Trying to stop in the middle of a step only made him stumble, tossing him forward.
His arms shot out, putting his hands on surprisingly firm biceps even as his body plowed into the back of this person. Between his own sense of balance, clutching the woman, which he finally noticed she was, as a prop, and his pack's weight, he managed to keep his feet. His tight grip on her biceps remained for a moment until he was sure he hadn't bowled over this innocent bystander, and he began to babble. "I'm sorry, I apologize. I didn't mean to ram into you like that. It was totally my fault for not looking. Need to pay attention to where I'm going, not old grudges." The redhead paused to take a breath and suck up a tiny bit of drool that had been escaping the corner of his mouth during his few brief moments of ranting, stepping back then. His hands dropped to his sides, quietly cursing himself for holding onto her for so long. You're better than this, he told himself, though it wasn't true when he was so anxious. His head tipped upward then, looking at the woman he'd run into, hoping she wasn't going to get angry at him. He doubted he could handle that right now.
One callused palm rubbed over a brow dripping with sweat, flicking the fingers out and away to wick the water off after. Valon stared at his right hand with disdain; he was a bit annoyed at himself that he'd used his last handkerchief as a patch for his father's silk coat, which was rolled up in his pack for safety, two months before. Two months, he thought bitterly. Two months and I haven't replaced the damn thing. It would cost me, what, a copper miza? A silver? Anything would be better than using my bare hand. Unhappily, he rubbed his palm on his trousers, at least grateful that his vest had nothing to stick to his underarm. His worn boots scuffed the street as he moved, readjusting the pack on his back. He hadn't even considered finding a room for the night so he could put his things down.
After a few moments, though, Valon's attention diverted from the heat, from his sweat, and his anxious cheek chewing. Instead, his dark blue gaze settled on a man further down the street. His brows knitted together, his nose wrinkled, and his mouth screwed up in a stern frown. Those spectacles, that wrinkled face, seemed to be laughing at him. He knew that man, and he would rather avoid him. After all, he'd always made a point to keep out of his way when he had been a part of his father's caravan. Thinking of caravans, too, gave him a hint of agitation that only added to the rest. Those who had been part of his father's retinue had given him only the tent, horse, and pack he'd come with, plus the money he'd earned. The weapon and armor he'd always used, a worn estoc and some battered leathers, had been kept as part of the caravan's property to be divided between the surviving members of the venture. Being only a son and adopted at that, Valon had been entitled to nothing but what his father's will left him. The man with the spectacles had been an owner.
"Ploughing niggard," he cursed, turning down another street without looking. Valon remembered his father well, a jovial man until the flux had taken his health; he'd always playfully teased the man that he was a miser. Valon, though, learned from his father that there was a difference between a miserly attitude and being prudently tightfisted. As a merchant, an owner in a caravan venture's stock, he always told him he needed to know the difference to make the best profit. The spectacled man, though, had proved himself time and again to be so spectacularly cheap that he had become a joke for guards in their cups. As a result of constant bargaining and finagling, guards had begun to joke that it was easier to get blood from a stone than mizas from the spectacled man. No one had ever respected him enough to learn his name.
With his mind already bugged by his anxiety from lack of herbs and further distracted by his intense dislike for the man he took a turn to avoid, Valon missed the fact that someone obstructed his path. With his head turned, looking back over his right shoulder, his terrible hearing gave no warning. Only a scent of spring flowers, so very pleasant, gave him time enough to look back. Looking back, however, proved to be all he could do with the second that it afforded him. Trying to stop in the middle of a step only made him stumble, tossing him forward.
His arms shot out, putting his hands on surprisingly firm biceps even as his body plowed into the back of this person. Between his own sense of balance, clutching the woman, which he finally noticed she was, as a prop, and his pack's weight, he managed to keep his feet. His tight grip on her biceps remained for a moment until he was sure he hadn't bowled over this innocent bystander, and he began to babble. "I'm sorry, I apologize. I didn't mean to ram into you like that. It was totally my fault for not looking. Need to pay attention to where I'm going, not old grudges." The redhead paused to take a breath and suck up a tiny bit of drool that had been escaping the corner of his mouth during his few brief moments of ranting, stepping back then. His hands dropped to his sides, quietly cursing himself for holding onto her for so long. You're better than this, he told himself, though it wasn't true when he was so anxious. His head tipped upward then, looking at the woman he'd run into, hoping she wasn't going to get angry at him. He doubted he could handle that right now.
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Valon Ternyk - Player
- Posts: 8
- Words: 11707
- Joined roleplay: June 26th, 2012, 7:11 am
- Race: Mixed blood
- Character sheet
Learning to Read. (Open)
by Hund on July 2nd, 2012, 3:21 am
Season of Summer, Day 13, 512 AV The groups of people milled about the lone Kelvic, making her wonder what they were doing, what their lives would be. Were they hurrying home to take care of their children? Or were they heading out to shop for groceries to prepare their next meal. All this made her yearn for something like that, she was unlike most of her kind who wanted to run free in the woods. All she wanted to do was settle in a house and tend to her crops and maybe a couple of chickens, though she would have to raise them from eggs so they would be used to her. It would be a peaceful life, calm and simple. This city was not simple, the streets were elaborate and her rented room was far from the stables. There wasn't even a window to let in the light, she loved the sun for it reminded her of work. Also she could smell the sweat and heavy perfume, already she missed the country breeze outside these gates. Now she had to learn how to read and write so she would be able to communicate with others, but the problem with that was that she was alone and was deaf. She lifts up a hand to run her fingers through her short splotchy hair, she had stopped a couple of people to ask where she could find something to read. It was frustrating to do charades with people, but people said something about a store and a library, but finding that with her disabilities was proving difficult. At the moment she was lost, the heat having little effect on her, having filled up her canteen before she left her room. She let her blue and brown splotched eyes around the city, feeling a bit lost and overwhelmed by the size of the city. Since she couldn't hear, she wasn't prepared for what happened next. A strangled yelp left her, but her right leg managed to move forward and catch herself before she was knocked over, which would be a feat for any regular person to do. She was all muscle, so she was able to keep both her and the stranger upright. The feel of warmth of a hand on her arm was welcoming, having not known that she would've missed such a simple touch from another being. Her head turns to look back with her wide eyes in surprise, she took in the sight of the man, he had startling red hair. She had an impulse to touch it but refrained from doing so, knowing that people did not take kindly to uninvited touches. It was a little late when she noticed his lips were moving, instantly focusing on them but she only caught half of his words. When he finally released her arm, leaving her wanting, she turned to face him more directly, thinking it was only polite. On habit, she lifts up her hands to create a sentence using sign language. 'It is okay, do not worry about it.' When she realized that she had signed, she figured he wouldn't know how to understand her. So she held up her hands and shook her head, hoping he understood that she did not take offense to his lack of attention. It happened to her all the time, since she could not see clearly out of one eye, she tended to run into people herself. |
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Hund - Freed Slave.
- Posts: 13
- Words: 10619
- Joined roleplay: June 7th, 2012, 7:49 am
- Race: Kelvic
- Character sheet
Learning to Read. (Open)
by Valon Ternyk on July 2nd, 2012, 10:43 pm
Season of Summer, Day 13, 512 AV
Valon felt like a fool. He knew he was rambling, but he couldn't really help himself in his current state. Anxiety and need turned him into a nervous wreck, chattering away like some child. It also didn't help that Syliras always put a small sense of claustrophobia in him; there were so many people and much of the city was enclosed within cold stone. After gripping her biceps and then releasing them, the redhead brushed a palm first over his rough coat; his hand then rose to slide over his tightly braided hair. To keep himself from continuing on the little tirade he'd started, Valon chewed on the inside of his cheek. Doing so, little bits of loose skin inside his mouth began to flake off. His nose wrinkled just slightly at this, turning his head to spit the tiny chunks onto the ground nearby.
Her strangled yelp perked his attention, finding a certain quality to it that drew his thoughts. It wasn't obvious to him for a few moments, at least until he saw her hands begin to move. His gaze focused in on them, and a slight grin crossed his lips. It was the first time he had really, truly smiled that day; it felt good. He knew what she was saying, all thanks to his father. Out of habit, Valon's fingers laced together and he extended his hands out in front of him. The groan of relief from his throat drowned out the sound of his fingers popping, not that she would hear them. He then lifted his hands, beginning to sign.
'Oh, so you're deaf? It explains why you didn't hear me coming. You don't have to play games with me to make me understand. Though...I guess you do have to do that for other folks, don't you? Not everyone knows how to do this, do they?'
Though they had been few and far between, he had met with other totally deaf people in his travels. He recognized now the somewhat toneless quality of her yelp of surprise; it reminded him of the woman he'd met who still tried to speak despite her disability. Though he knew he must be quite the sight, all red in the face and sweating, he felt at least a bit at ease around someone else. He liked new people, at least to a point. New people gave him new things to learn, be it something useful or simply information about the person. Learning would also give him something to distract himself. It would give him time to remember more about Syliras, like where, exactly, he could get his hands on a bit more of the herb he craved.
'So what are you doing in Syliras? I'm here as a visitor for now. I just came off a job. Oh, silly me. I apologize for my rudeness, questioning you without knowing who you are. And without introducing myself. My name, ma'am, is Valon Ternyk. Friends, what few I had, called me Val. And you?'
The redhead lifted his arms then, crossing them across his chest for the time being. He wasn't getting defensive on her; it was more of a way to keep his hands from fidgeting when he wasn't signing to her. His fingertips tapped on his biceps, and his teeth began to worry his cheek again. His eyes, though, remained focused on the woman. No matter how strange he felt, it would be incredibly rude to take his attention away from her. He couldn't rightly have a conversation with her if he wasn't paying attention to what she was saying.
Valon felt like a fool. He knew he was rambling, but he couldn't really help himself in his current state. Anxiety and need turned him into a nervous wreck, chattering away like some child. It also didn't help that Syliras always put a small sense of claustrophobia in him; there were so many people and much of the city was enclosed within cold stone. After gripping her biceps and then releasing them, the redhead brushed a palm first over his rough coat; his hand then rose to slide over his tightly braided hair. To keep himself from continuing on the little tirade he'd started, Valon chewed on the inside of his cheek. Doing so, little bits of loose skin inside his mouth began to flake off. His nose wrinkled just slightly at this, turning his head to spit the tiny chunks onto the ground nearby.
Her strangled yelp perked his attention, finding a certain quality to it that drew his thoughts. It wasn't obvious to him for a few moments, at least until he saw her hands begin to move. His gaze focused in on them, and a slight grin crossed his lips. It was the first time he had really, truly smiled that day; it felt good. He knew what she was saying, all thanks to his father. Out of habit, Valon's fingers laced together and he extended his hands out in front of him. The groan of relief from his throat drowned out the sound of his fingers popping, not that she would hear them. He then lifted his hands, beginning to sign.
'Oh, so you're deaf? It explains why you didn't hear me coming. You don't have to play games with me to make me understand. Though...I guess you do have to do that for other folks, don't you? Not everyone knows how to do this, do they?'
Though they had been few and far between, he had met with other totally deaf people in his travels. He recognized now the somewhat toneless quality of her yelp of surprise; it reminded him of the woman he'd met who still tried to speak despite her disability. Though he knew he must be quite the sight, all red in the face and sweating, he felt at least a bit at ease around someone else. He liked new people, at least to a point. New people gave him new things to learn, be it something useful or simply information about the person. Learning would also give him something to distract himself. It would give him time to remember more about Syliras, like where, exactly, he could get his hands on a bit more of the herb he craved.
'So what are you doing in Syliras? I'm here as a visitor for now. I just came off a job. Oh, silly me. I apologize for my rudeness, questioning you without knowing who you are. And without introducing myself. My name, ma'am, is Valon Ternyk. Friends, what few I had, called me Val. And you?'
The redhead lifted his arms then, crossing them across his chest for the time being. He wasn't getting defensive on her; it was more of a way to keep his hands from fidgeting when he wasn't signing to her. His fingertips tapped on his biceps, and his teeth began to worry his cheek again. His eyes, though, remained focused on the woman. No matter how strange he felt, it would be incredibly rude to take his attention away from her. He couldn't rightly have a conversation with her if he wasn't paying attention to what she was saying.
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Valon Ternyk - Player
- Posts: 8
- Words: 11707
- Joined roleplay: June 26th, 2012, 7:11 am
- Race: Mixed blood
- Character sheet
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