Post by ~Pandora~ on Oct 16, 2009 1:27:58 GMT -5
Bane was sitting rather close to the other people, but not with him. He was, in fact, playing with some rocks he had found around and about. With his barefeet hitting the ground slightly as he giggled quietly over his tiny collection, he began to move them around.
The black smooth one was never with the ragged black one, but paired with any of the others, or even stacked with any of the others. He moved them around and rolled them around in his hands, but he always kept those two seperate.
Giggling again, he continued to move them around and quietly count them as high as he could (12) before starting over. The smooth and ragged were each in their own count, so he had three 12 counts. He giggled quietly and suddenly began to stare at one rock that he had deemed his favorite.
It was round and very smooth, as if hand-made, though he had found it in the dirt. He rolled it around in his hands, the light reflecting dully off it before he pocketed it in his overalls and went back to the rest of the rocks that looked like normal rocks.
Some were from the river, others from where he had dug them up (recently) around the Post. He pushed one pile of rocks over and laughed, his dirt crusted fingers quickly piling them before he focused on making a "town".
"There's the House and here's the fields. The...Mommy's Place!..." he muttered to himself in his childish way, slowly building up what little he remembered of where he had been born.
He gently fingered the smooth black rock and nodded. "Mommy's Place and icky ragged rock the House," he added in after-thought, switching out the rock that had been the House for the ragged black rock.
It was obvious that one was his least favorite, as it played his least favorite place in the world.
The black smooth one was never with the ragged black one, but paired with any of the others, or even stacked with any of the others. He moved them around and rolled them around in his hands, but he always kept those two seperate.
Giggling again, he continued to move them around and quietly count them as high as he could (12) before starting over. The smooth and ragged were each in their own count, so he had three 12 counts. He giggled quietly and suddenly began to stare at one rock that he had deemed his favorite.
It was round and very smooth, as if hand-made, though he had found it in the dirt. He rolled it around in his hands, the light reflecting dully off it before he pocketed it in his overalls and went back to the rest of the rocks that looked like normal rocks.
Some were from the river, others from where he had dug them up (recently) around the Post. He pushed one pile of rocks over and laughed, his dirt crusted fingers quickly piling them before he focused on making a "town".
"There's the House and here's the fields. The...Mommy's Place!..." he muttered to himself in his childish way, slowly building up what little he remembered of where he had been born.
He gently fingered the smooth black rock and nodded. "Mommy's Place and icky ragged rock the House," he added in after-thought, switching out the rock that had been the House for the ragged black rock.
It was obvious that one was his least favorite, as it played his least favorite place in the world.