[Bonfire PRP] Wood you like to talk? [LL/Splinter]

[So Long Gay Bowser]

What a lovely gathering this had turned out to be. The Loveliest Lies of All was not oft social, but this was a festival of revelry she was more than delighted to take part in. Settled by the bonfire, she had taken up cooking some of the food the hunters were bringing back- and what a plentiful plethora it was. Mushrooms of all kinds, hares and boars... when the little ones drew near, Loveliest Lies provided them due entertainment by roasting the fruits upon her great horns. It solicited the most perfect little laughs, and delighted Loveliest Lies to no end. She was more than happy to sit and provide food for the hungry around the fire.

But now... now she longed for conversations. The wandering heart in her wanted to touch another kin's soul, to know them in this short time they shared in the swamp. Loveliest Lies sighed to herself, smiling at the Kio who ran off with their meal.

Perhaps... Perhaps someone would stay and chat?  

[Scaramouche Fandango]

"My dear lady," came a low rumbly voice from behind her, "You look as if you might be in need of assistance." The voice belonged to a bulky Totoma, a portly fellow with a gentle smile and twinkling eyes. Splinter had been enjoying the party quite a bit; he'd been spending quite a bit of time with some of the youngest, telling stories and entertaining them and letting them ride on his back for as long as they'd liked. But that was a bit tiring after a while; certainly not tiresome, mind you, but tiring. Children never wanted to stop or slow down; that sort of energy was a much younger kin's game. They really were a blessing to be around though; really, this whole company was something special. When he was a much younger buck, he'd lived with a large group, a roving band of rowdy ruffians that marauded through the mountains with nary a care in the world. But after he'd been called to the swamp, he'd spent much more time alone, a solitary traveler; seeing this many kin gathered into one place warmed his heart. He'd met so many kin tonight! And now he was about to meet one more by helping out in the serving line. It was always good to lend a hoof where you could. "The name's Splinter, Miss- at your service!"  

[So Long Gay Bowser]

"Assistance? No, I'm rather alright," Loveliest Lies soothed, turning her amber gaze to the Totoma. He seemed of the trees, born of the essence of fall, like she was. A kindred spirit in this wild, untamed swamp. Her soft smile turned more genuinely, and she stood to move over slightly to welcome the Totoma her soft nesting spot.

"I would not, however, object to some company this evening. I do believe... you were entertaining the little ones earlier, were you not?" She asked, recalling the earlier revelry. Hers was a grand spot by the fire- unnoticed and unassuming, Loveliest Lies could simply observe the other kin gathered to have a good time. She had hoped, perhaps, to run into Icebow or any of her children. It seemed, however, that the lot of them were just as antisocial as she was. It was nothing that she could fault them for- partaking in social gatherings was rather the emotional undertaking. Besides that, it gave the doe opportunity to mingle with others of her kind and perhaps make new friends. And who knew? Perhaps her sisters were here among the party, enjoying themselves and partaking in stories to be told at their next gathering.

"I am called The Loveliest Lies of All. Loveliest Lies or LL suits me just as well, if you find the former too much of a mouthful for you," she giggled, turning her focus and thoughts back to splinter. His was a much shorter, easier name to stomach. Like a grand old tree, this one was. Loveliest Lies found herself already fond of him, regardless of the shortness of their meeting. But wasn't that life as a whole? A meeting too short to be enjoyed unless you put the effort into it?  

[Scaramouche Fandango]

He smiled warmly as he settled in next to the graceful doe, taking care not to entangle their branch-like antlers. "Company is grand and helpful in its own way; I'd love to spend some time right here." He shifted his bulk to a comfortable position; he was a burly fellow, large even for a totoma. "Yes, I was telling stories to the little ones; I grew up far from here, and they do so love to hear tales of the mountains. They can never see them, you know; the Ache keeps us all close to the swamp in the end. Sometimes I miss those stony hills; they were nothing like the swamp, not at all. They were so cold- and the snow was so deep in the winter. If you went up high enough, you could see snow even in the summer. And these little ones- many of them have never seen snow even in the depths of winter. But it's so much safer here, too; the snows claimed many each year. Lambs too small to rise above it, and the old who were no longer strong enough to fight it. The mountains are a land of harsh beauty and stark grace; those who live there never really know peace. Not like they do in the swamp. There's a gentleness here, and I must confess I find it wonderful. The water's embrace is tender; even death here is gentle. That's a lesson most totoma never learn- but goodness, listen to me prattle on! I can't imagine you want to hear this old man wax philosophical about death- that's far too gloomy for a harvest festival, isn't it?" His eyes twinkled apologetically; he couldn't really help being what he was, for being a Totoma was to be at least a little bit fatalistic. "Loveliest Lies; a lovely name, and enigmatic as well! We don't really get names with such poetry among my people. I have always wondered what it is about us that we have that disconnect with the sleeping realm; while it gives us a certain degree of freedom and the opportunity to earn our distinctions, it distances us from the world's pulse as well. My name is Splinter." It really was a shame about the lack of naming dreams, and something that bothered him often. He'd not gotten close with a swamp-born Totoma, and so he didn't know what kind of dreams the little lambs had or didn't have as they bedded in the moss- or how their playfellows felt about it. Did the totoma youths envy the kimeti, the acha, the kiokote, the zikwa? Or did they pity them for not having the distinction of earning a name for themselves? It was an unfamiliar situation. He'd had no children of his own and hadn't really been in a position where he could ask.  

[So Long Gay Bowser]

The mountains? Oh, what a beautiful concept that sounded like. Loveliest Lies herself had been born with her sisters in the swamp, and had not known the world beyond. Her knowledge came from the tongues of others and the stories of old- occasionally, she had gone to the swamp's edge and stared into the horizon, wondering what lay beyond the grasp of her hooves. Mountains, great plains... they seemed so alien and strange in comparison to the murky embrace of the motherfather's swamp. And yet, how Loveliest Lies longed to see them. Snow was not a thing she understood, but oh, how she longed to. It seemed so much like her sister, Gone- frail and delicate, deadly in its own right. Cold on the surface, capable of great warmth.

"Stories I would love to hear," Loveliest Lies agreed with a smile, longing to share in the stories of Splinter's old soul. What marvelous things he must've seen out in the world. Things that she herself would never understand. When he apologized, she shook her head.

"Don't ever apologize, I thrive on the stories of other. Experiences we share in stories are how we live in through the ages." It was one of the world's most basic truths. Bodies rotted over time, became one with the motherfather and the earth. They nourished the worms, which fed the birds and fed the hounds. In turn, kin fed the kin of the earth.

"It's a rather flourishing name for the finality of death," she mused, fluttering her eyelashes at Splinter. Perhaps not the most welcoming conversational topic, but it seemed Splinter would not be pushed away. He was a strong, well-headed buck. The mountains, it seem, made him a strong and righteous soul. Death did not seem a challenge to him.

"Tell me, Splinter. You... earn your names, do you not? How did you come about yours?"  

[Scaramouche Fandango]

Oh good. He’d been afraid that he’d scare her off, but the young lady was certainly a cerebral sort. “My name? It’s a relic of hopelessness. When I was younger, I ran with a band- not really a tribe, not like they are here- but a group that traveled together during part of the year because it was suicide to travel alone. We got caught in a mountain pass. Normally, the way through was clear, but we’d had a wet summer and then there’d been a landslide. Half the mountain seemed to have come crashing down- and there were all these trees lying there at impossible angles; it was like a giant child had picked them up and just dropped them. The blockage wasn’t too difficult to climb, but we had a lot of lambs with us- and a few elders as well, who proud as they might be were far too stiff of limb to make it up easily. The snows would soon be upon us- we didn’t really have the time to get to another pass. It’s not easy to traverse the mountains; it’s not like the swamp where it’s easy to go around. There’s a limited number of other ways to go, and they’re often few and far between- so groups follow the same migration patterns for generations. Anyways, our sort of leaders- our best navigators, the wise ones, the strongest ones- they argued for a while. I don’t remember what they said; I just remember hearing them drone in my ears while I stared at a tree and marveled at the force that had put it there. I can’t say what spurred me to move it- anger, maybe, or something akin to arrogance. But the tree had to go, and so I shoved it and shoved it until it fell down the mountain… and took several more with it. We spent days clearing those trees, but it was less time than we would have needed to get to another pass. We barely made it to our winter home, but we did- and we didn’t lose anybody. It wasn’t their time. I got my name after that. I’ve never forgotten what that sounded like- the thundering groans of the trees as they slid further down the slope and then crashed and cracked. Like the mountain itself was crying. I can’t imagine anything being louder or more intimidating- so that became my name. I bore it like the shrapnel from the falling trees themselves; you’d be amazed how deep splinters can penetrate armor!” He chuckled ruefully at the memory. He was lucky to still have his sight, if he thought about it.  

[So Long Gay Bowser]

Her eyes closed as Loveliest Lies listened in on the story, trying to put herself in that time and place. It was beyond what she could imagine, this tale of tragedy. Lambs... those were the Totoma's foals, weren't they? The little ones. But it was certainly a daring tale of heroism, something beyond what The Loveliest Lies of All was capable of. But to save the little ones... much as she longed for death, it was a noble feet she could not even ignore. At the joke of splinters penetrating armor, she managed a small laugh.

"Fortunately, the trees of the swamp are a good deal more forgiving. Perhaps the motherfather felt pity on your kind, coming from such harsh conditions. They made it... easier, I suppose, to swallow?" She cocked her head to the side, regarding Splinter openly.

"But I find you an admirable soul. That's a tale I can't even fathom," she admitted, honesty in her words. She was fair of face and soft of body- strength was not something that ran true in her family. Of the sisters, So We Beat On was likely the strongest- and she wasn't a muscular sort at all. Nestling a bit closer- a bit too forward, perhaps- she sighed to herself.

"I find you an interesting old soul, Splinter. Would you keep me company this afternoon?" She offered the Totoma a smile. "A few stories would be a great way to end the festival, I believe."