Post by icyreflections on Jul 26, 2012 9:46:57 GMT -5
A soft orange glow twitched in the darkness, casting a flight of dim yellow butterflies from their fiery cocoon and fluttering along the wall. Against this wall, an expensive and finely polished oak desk was carefully situated and upon it, many books and scrolls were sprawled about messily. Through the gloom of the room, faint shafts of weakened sunlight tried in vain to fill the area with its usually brilliant radiance. The blue-point Siamese looked up from his studies and cast his blue eyes upon the window. The world outside looked dull and dreary. Amongst the heavens, light gray clouds hovered in the air and blotted away the Sun- who no doubt was using all his mighty strength to ignite the barrier and shine upon the city. Oshe imagined a sort of battle of wills beyond the tops of the trees and wits of all the cats that dwelled beneath their canopies. He imagined the Sun as a golden lion head with a streaming mane of shimmering light and an ego powerful enough to rival his blinding luminosity and threatening flaming crown. He probably didn’t like the sheet of gloom that covered the city he usually looked down upon- his kingdom, his pawns, his playthings…
Oshe had his cheek pressed into the palm of one paw as he assessed the world beyond him window- he didn’t like to go out much, preferring to read about it instead and drenching himself in facts, stories, and knowledge. He was cursed with a wretched stutter as a small kit and couldn’t stop his distracting fidgeting when he became stressed or nervous- which was almost always his feelings around other cats. His family was incredibly wealthy and his father disapproved of his imperfect son and as a result, he cast him away from the public’s eye and kept him cooped up indoors until he was old enough to hand away to a sage to mentor in private. Though Oshe was a great disappointment to his father and was a very ‘hushed’ subject among friends, servants, and family, his father made sure his son was well educated and cared for. He paid him a monthly allowance every month to take care of himself in Gweillan and maintain the house he purchased for him to give his sage some relief from his ‘clinginess’. Books were the only escape Oshe had as a kit- his only friends and salvation- and he treasured them dearly. They weren’t judgmental like his cold father and he took comfort in their tales of far away places and explanations of subjects that once seemed so mysterious and fascinating. Rather than being exposed to the world first-handedly, Oshe was locked away and was forced to turn to other methods of exploration. He turned to books and learn everything he could from them. As a result, Oshe was quite intelligent and possessed a brilliant memory for facts and dates and names but he suffered inwardly in the presence of other cats. His once fearful fidgeting as a kit while among strangers seemed to intensify as he grew older and found he was unable to express his inner thoughts and feelings accurately.
Despite Oshe’s brilliance, he couldn’t communicate his findings and sense of wonder with anyone. Not only did he lack friends to talk to, his stutter forever shut away the beautiful words he longed to share with others and his confidence in his intelligence suffered because of it. Who could talk a scholar seriously if he couldn’t clearly relay his learnings? To evade the sting of disappointment in himself and the mocking eyes of others, Oshe usually just stayed in his room, reading his books, or went to his mentor’s home to study.
As he sat there, looking up at the sky for a moment to let the information he just absorbed sink into his consciousness, he noticed a flicker of movement in the branches of a tree behind his house. Straining his eyes and trying to focus them after reading in the dark for so long, Oshe’s vision pinpointed on an avian couple and their baby sparrow. The parents tried to encourage the chick to fly but it seemed reluctant. It looked to its mother with bright black beady eyes and seemed to plead for her comfort and longed to stay among the branches and snuggled into the soft down of its familiar nest. The father fluttered in front of his son and again tried to persuade him to fly. The chick cocked its head as it weighed the pros and cons of taking its first attempt to fly and then it hesitantly took its first step into the air and began to flap its wings madly. Its father hovered beneath him, wings fluttering at an impressive speed, to keep up with his son’s progress and support him in case he fell. Soon the little bird became too exhausted and faltered upon his fathers’s back, who flew him back to his mother and plopped him back onto the branch.
The little bird, once so cautious and insecure, leapt for joy as the thrill of his first flight overcame him. Oshe felt pleased for the little bird and couldn’t help but relate to him a little, a thought in which fascinated and depressed him because as hard as he tried- he couldn’t take that leap and soar in the sky. He imagined himself as the little bird and realized that his father wouldn’t have flew beneath him for support and he would have plummeted to the ground in a quick, heart-stopping moment. Though this made Oshe sick to his stomach to think of his own demise while his father stood by and watched, he felt inspired to write an analysis on parenthood in varying species- what the seminaries and differences were- and how it affected the progress of their offspring. The young page began to wonder if parenthood required a sort of special affectionate magic- and if it was difficult for some to harness this power and thus proved to be incompetent parents. Did other species have the ability to obtain this magic? Did they make better parents? Did parents with the magic produce ‘better’ children? Did it really matter- were children individuals and advance on their own?
He grabbed his quill and his journal and rushed outside to write his thoughts down amongst the trees that nurtured and housed the sparrows that finally encouraged him to step into the world beyond his studies.
Oshe had his cheek pressed into the palm of one paw as he assessed the world beyond him window- he didn’t like to go out much, preferring to read about it instead and drenching himself in facts, stories, and knowledge. He was cursed with a wretched stutter as a small kit and couldn’t stop his distracting fidgeting when he became stressed or nervous- which was almost always his feelings around other cats. His family was incredibly wealthy and his father disapproved of his imperfect son and as a result, he cast him away from the public’s eye and kept him cooped up indoors until he was old enough to hand away to a sage to mentor in private. Though Oshe was a great disappointment to his father and was a very ‘hushed’ subject among friends, servants, and family, his father made sure his son was well educated and cared for. He paid him a monthly allowance every month to take care of himself in Gweillan and maintain the house he purchased for him to give his sage some relief from his ‘clinginess’. Books were the only escape Oshe had as a kit- his only friends and salvation- and he treasured them dearly. They weren’t judgmental like his cold father and he took comfort in their tales of far away places and explanations of subjects that once seemed so mysterious and fascinating. Rather than being exposed to the world first-handedly, Oshe was locked away and was forced to turn to other methods of exploration. He turned to books and learn everything he could from them. As a result, Oshe was quite intelligent and possessed a brilliant memory for facts and dates and names but he suffered inwardly in the presence of other cats. His once fearful fidgeting as a kit while among strangers seemed to intensify as he grew older and found he was unable to express his inner thoughts and feelings accurately.
Despite Oshe’s brilliance, he couldn’t communicate his findings and sense of wonder with anyone. Not only did he lack friends to talk to, his stutter forever shut away the beautiful words he longed to share with others and his confidence in his intelligence suffered because of it. Who could talk a scholar seriously if he couldn’t clearly relay his learnings? To evade the sting of disappointment in himself and the mocking eyes of others, Oshe usually just stayed in his room, reading his books, or went to his mentor’s home to study.
As he sat there, looking up at the sky for a moment to let the information he just absorbed sink into his consciousness, he noticed a flicker of movement in the branches of a tree behind his house. Straining his eyes and trying to focus them after reading in the dark for so long, Oshe’s vision pinpointed on an avian couple and their baby sparrow. The parents tried to encourage the chick to fly but it seemed reluctant. It looked to its mother with bright black beady eyes and seemed to plead for her comfort and longed to stay among the branches and snuggled into the soft down of its familiar nest. The father fluttered in front of his son and again tried to persuade him to fly. The chick cocked its head as it weighed the pros and cons of taking its first attempt to fly and then it hesitantly took its first step into the air and began to flap its wings madly. Its father hovered beneath him, wings fluttering at an impressive speed, to keep up with his son’s progress and support him in case he fell. Soon the little bird became too exhausted and faltered upon his fathers’s back, who flew him back to his mother and plopped him back onto the branch.
The little bird, once so cautious and insecure, leapt for joy as the thrill of his first flight overcame him. Oshe felt pleased for the little bird and couldn’t help but relate to him a little, a thought in which fascinated and depressed him because as hard as he tried- he couldn’t take that leap and soar in the sky. He imagined himself as the little bird and realized that his father wouldn’t have flew beneath him for support and he would have plummeted to the ground in a quick, heart-stopping moment. Though this made Oshe sick to his stomach to think of his own demise while his father stood by and watched, he felt inspired to write an analysis on parenthood in varying species- what the seminaries and differences were- and how it affected the progress of their offspring. The young page began to wonder if parenthood required a sort of special affectionate magic- and if it was difficult for some to harness this power and thus proved to be incompetent parents. Did other species have the ability to obtain this magic? Did they make better parents? Did parents with the magic produce ‘better’ children? Did it really matter- were children individuals and advance on their own?
He grabbed his quill and his journal and rushed outside to write his thoughts down amongst the trees that nurtured and housed the sparrows that finally encouraged him to step into the world beyond his studies.