Day in the life of an Inexplicable Battle Grandpa
Ookami had spent a lot of time reflecting... while building up the intent to speak with the enigmatic Winter. Reflecting on the depths of his own soul, and what the world meant... you know, the typical. Ookami oft did so while cooking and preparing tea. In truth, it had been awhile since he had such a quiet time to himself to reflect and meditate on his self, the inner soul. For awhile now he had been training Tarmo, or there had always been another in his presence. He did not like to retreat inward while in the presence of others, he felt he should give them his attention and the typical acts he had practiced took the rest of his body's process to maintain. The scents of spices ad herbs wafted the air of his private chamber, the wonders of nature in all her forms. They helped to maintain his focus and he had a lot of baking and brewing to do this day... but more importantly... a lot of reflection.
They said he won. Ookami didn't feel that way. That boy, he deserved to whet the appetite to learn, to see the fruits of his learning and watch them bloom. Victory would've set that lesson all the more... and yet... he couldn't just be handed it, could he? Had he stopped his blade, given up, would that not insult the boy's courage his ability to adapt and change? You learned your lesson, fight's over. That wasn't how real battle went. Sometimes learning came to late, in the face of destruction sometimes we learned what we should've done. And, we could always try try again. It had worked for himself... he wasn't sure how it'd work for others. Ookami... he was willing to learn the lesson of defeat a thousand times over, to have those lessons beat upon his flesh and engraved on his soul. Each notch on Unequivocal Soul was a bead of sweat and blood. A pure crystallization of a lesson well learned, wisdom carved from the dialogue of fists. Battle wasn't about win or loss to Ookami, it was a means of betterment for himself and for those that fought him. He hoped whether he won or loss that both of them learned something. Had that bo... Cardian learned something from their fight? Had Ookami himself learned something? The first was a resounding yes. After all the boy showed him the fruits of those labours. He even told him that that move should've defeated him. There was no way he should've been able to defeat the young lad... and yet... he did? He couldn't wrap his head around why this occurred. That flare of Cardian's soul should've done him in, and yet the armour broke under his blade. How, why? What did that mean? Why did he achieve victory? He did not seek it in the moment, he only kept fighting. He could not stop, that was how a dialogue worked. You kept speaking, you couldn't shut down and let the other have their way. They would learn nothing... worse than nothing at times.
Yet why did he triumph? Unequivocal Soul did as asked, he continued on the path his master had put in place for him. One the should've found ineffective. Did he act on his own? Did he do something that hadn't be directed? It was conjecture... but the events did not add up. It only came back to that part of him he still didn't understand... The Inexplicable Skill. A part of his own soul he had no understanding of. His reason to speak to Winter. He had finally found some way, someone, who could possibly help him understand. Perhaps with that he could move forward, or at least find a means to. Battle was no longer working... not for this. He had learned much from the dialogue of fists over his long 80 years of life. But it could not answer every question in this world, not this one.
***
The day passed, the later hours began. A day of reflection and mediation. A night of conversation and discovery lay ahead. Ookami prepped a basket, filling it with the work of the day. Baked goods of all types shapes and sizes filled the simple wicker walls. One he had weaved himself, Ookami found great satisfaction in creating everything he used with his own hands if he could. It was a journey, and even if he wasn't skilled at it, he found greater appreciation for craftsmen and artisans. Battle was his artform, and he believed that to it's core. He wished to understand the simpler arts, those meant to evoke emotion, or eve just create useful everyday objects. There was beauty in even the supposed mundane, the hard work that went into making a craft effortless. Those masters of the basket, painting, etc, they too honed a craft beyond limits. What they did seemed effortless as if it flowed from them like water. They had put as much work into their craft as he did his. He respected them as equals. And so, out of respect he wished to pay his dues. He had done well, a sea of golden brown filled that handmade basket. Warm treats that were created in the fugue of self reflection... he hoped that didn't make them taste funny. What would he even taste like? BWAHAHA! Whatever it was it probably was hardly pleasant. Next he prepared himself, after making sure to preserve the heat of his work. He wanted them to be fresh or.. as much as they could be, for Winter. She always seemed so cold... so alone. Even a little warmth would mean the world he felt.
Ookami redid his hair, adding to it his favourite ties, dark green, that of verdant and healthy nature. Every so often he tied in a little brass bell, they chimed cheerily, happy to be there again. "It's been awhile fellas, but today is a special occasion, I need your help okay? We are gonna met a new friend today, and she is... well, I don't mean to presume but I feel a great sadness in her. So, my little chime spirits, I need you to give her a warm welcome for me okay?" no answer came, but the old man laughed as if one had. He continued tying each into his hair, one by one his collection of small golden baubles adorned his silver mane of hair. "BWAHAHA! We're looking good fellas! I knew we still had it, still in our prime!" he said admiring himself a little. He shook out his mane, the glittering and chirping of a thousand little stars the accompaniment. He dressed himself in the finest clothes of his he could find in his belongings. He found little but... enough he could work something out. His only particularly nice shirt was several years old and didn't fully fit his large frame anymore. He could only manage a few buttons before it no longer had any slack... hopefully Winter wouldn't mind.
He had just tucked the basket under his arm as the request came through, finding himself in unfamiliar quarters. "Hello? Miss Winter? I come bearing gifts!" he said gesturing the basket forward almost knocking over a loose light fixture. He quickly caught it with his free hand, almost spelled disaster. He hoped she not notice that particular little incident. Ookami was always nervous in new spaces... the unfamiliarity messed with him and the sense of his body ever so slightly. In truth it was the most unnerving part of all this for him. Not even that he might poke a sensitive subject for Miss Winter.
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Topic: [IC] TTG2: Public Void - Chapter 1: Hope (Read 10908 times)