Open A New Tune And A Friend

[Krima]

23rd Day of Fall, 513 A.V.

Krima straitened her back, appearing as large and confident as she could. The attempt was futile though, the large green man towered over her. Krima always struggled with her height, being on the shorter side of her small race. It didn't help she was in a city where the majority of the population is practically double her height. Still, she tilted her head to look at Favchean directly.

"Does an applause mean that we enjoy it? Or does it simply mean one is giving respect to the effort? Many can snap, or applaud as our rather gauche young friend did recently. That does not mean that they enjoy. One can respect and not enjoy." The man gave his argument. Well, he did have a point. Not every snap in the crowd was showing that they enjoyed it, some could only be out of mutual respect. But surely there would be a difference in enthusiasm.

"Yes, there are different reasons to snap for a poet. But surely there would be a difference. If you truly enjoyed a poem, you would be much more enthusiastic than simply respecting one." Krima argued.

"No poetry is not simply good, great or bad. It is neither black nor white..but it is all in the perception. Should I assume you enjoyed? What makes your opinion much greater then mine?" Favechean's voice was even. It was clear he wasn't trying to insult her, simply debate. "Poetry is good when it speaks to you. If you it doesn't you do not find it good..but different things speak to different people."

"Well, it's true no poem is simply black or white. But you can't state that Akalak poetry is superior, just because it describes a battle. The poems recited here are just as great as those. It depends on, just like you said, if it speaks to you." She took a quick breath of air before continuing."If we go by a measure of how much a poem speaks to you, then it's ignorant to make a general statement like that."

OOCI'm so sorry this took so long to answer. After November I should be answering much faster. So Sorry!

[Favchean Hronis]

The Akalak watched as the other straightens, causing one brow to quirk upward in enjoyment. He was enjoying this little banter with the small Konti, more then he had expected, and if she was slighter then he, well most females were. He was used to being exquisitely gentle with the fairer sex, his own mother being counted short among even the Konti who tended toward the slighter builds anyway. It is one of the reasons his voice is so evenly maintained at a low decibel, he realized that the gravelly bass of his voice can be overwhelming in normal speaking tones. So her slight build was not a detraction in his eye, and it amused him that she was so passionate about poetry. He enjoyed it occasionally, but it was not something he was overly passionate about. However he did enjoy a debate, for what is a debate other then another competition, another way to match his will against another.

"So even if I find a poem less enjoyable, I can not say it is less enjoyable because someone else might find it more enjoyable? What, then if that person said it was most enjoyable, then he would be in the wrong because I found that brand of poetry not as enjoyable?" One large green hand raised to idly scratch the shaven sides of his head, a movement that had an air of habit about it. His braided Mohawk that lined his scalp down the middle barely moved with the motion so tightly was it woven. "No, poetry is all about opinions. And the sheer fact that the poem caused such a discussion means that it did what it was suppose to do, and made people feel something."

His hand fell to lay lightly on the table, the knuckles large and the digits held close together to keep from splaying too much room. His sleeveless leather vest creaks gently as he leans against the table in a relaxed lounge. "So other then being a esteemed poet critic, Krima, what does Riverfall hold for you?"