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trans_92009-07-14 03:40 pm
snarky-raptor.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92009-07-14 03:40 pm
Entry tags:
Tools of the Trade
Sharp Tongue has everything she owns spread out in a corner of the Obs Deck, where she's hovering over it jealously and arranging it with loving care as she makes sure it's all in order. The entire contents of her shaman's bag, and the bag itself, are here. Strange pastes and dried herbs and oddly shaped bits of stone, bone, and occasionally metal. Tools. All the mixtures and some dry ingredients are contained in various ways. Glass bottles are frequent, most of these in still-usable pieces with the few that are whole and stoppered containing some kind of mysterious liquid. Also common are things that at least appear to be the round bowls formed by the insides of broken skulls. Something whitish and about the consistency of cold butter is held in a sizable sea shell.
The bag itself is designed to hang across Sharp Tongue's back and against her left side, it's made of thick brown triceratops hide. Strange sigils have been apparently branded into it, usually in three claw slash motif. There are smears of paint in similar markings across it, in yellow and white and red. Hanging from the edges of the bag are teeth, feathers, and some claws. The biggest of these are two velociraptor hunting talons near the front.
It's a grisly assortment of things and doesn't smell all that great, but they all clearly seem to have a meaning to Sharp Tongue.
She's muttering to herself indistinctly as she goes over them, occasionally growling or hissing. She appears to have restored her body paint, having drawn long white and red slashed up and down her sides and legs, and a few across the muzzle for good measure. They're not sacred paint and they weren't done by Narrow Face, but they will have to do.
The bag itself is designed to hang across Sharp Tongue's back and against her left side, it's made of thick brown triceratops hide. Strange sigils have been apparently branded into it, usually in three claw slash motif. There are smears of paint in similar markings across it, in yellow and white and red. Hanging from the edges of the bag are teeth, feathers, and some claws. The biggest of these are two velociraptor hunting talons near the front.
It's a grisly assortment of things and doesn't smell all that great, but they all clearly seem to have a meaning to Sharp Tongue.
She's muttering to herself indistinctly as she goes over them, occasionally growling or hissing. She appears to have restored her body paint, having drawn long white and red slashed up and down her sides and legs, and a few across the muzzle for good measure. They're not sacred paint and they weren't done by Narrow Face, but they will have to do.
no subject
Whoever that one was on hte "omnicom" thing, she gained no love from Sharp Tongue.
"I think, however, that they are not a threat. I am troubled by the food but it is nothing that I cannot eat."
no subject
"Humans are crazy." He sighs and nods, tapping the ground with a claw.
"The food is horrible, but if we must eat to survive..."
no subject
On the subject of the food, she taps her own claws on the floor unconsciously. "I wish we could find a place to hunt. But there is nothing here that would feed herds. No plants. No trees. They have probably migrated far from here, if there are any to be found."
It doesn't occur to Sharp Tongue that even if there were an iguanodon or hadrosaur here, Stacy wouldn't let them kill it. It's not violence, it's hunting!
no subject
"This is true. But there are these rooms, called the sensor-ee-ums. They can simulate prey, trees, grass, everything! Except you cannot eat it." He sighs.
"This place is far too strange."
no subject
"Why," she wonders aloud, "would there be a room that pretends to have food that you cannot eat? What a useless thing," she snorts. "Very strange. But I can only believe that there is a reason for us to be here."
"Who alone could move us but the spirits?"
no subject
"I do not know. Like I said, humans are strange creatures." He gives the raptor equivalent of a shrug. "They do not always make sense."
no subject
"At the least," she says, "These are no threat to you or I. And if they make it so, we are raptor. We will survive."
They always have, after all.
"Did you need anything else of me?"
no subject
He bobs his head in a respectful gesture and turns to leave the room.