Upon hearing that a panther was a cat, a lightbulb went off in his head. Panther and Cheetah were foreign words to him, after all he had never encountered one in Avanthal. But cats were a common namesake. If they were as similar to cats as they claimed to be, then surely they couldn't be that threatening. This thought was quickly erased from his mind, since he had realized that he had entirely skipped over the fact that they were large . The boy came to the conclusion, that the two people before him were Kelvics. After all, they claimed to be things that did not contain the names of the common races.
Gilva recalled one other time where he had met someone who had been as fascinated with the ocean as these two seemed to be, though he did not share their enthusiasm. An ocean was simply that, an ocean. Words and actions had enticed the boy, so he failed to recognize beauty that was presented in any other form. The rain however, was a much more curious thing in that its presence had completely surprised him. Gilva had absolutely no warning that Zeltiva experienced this type of warning, and it was only because of his habit of wearing his cloak that he was able to avoid getting wet and perhaps catching a cold.
Gilva had never heard of Eyktol before, but Ronin's description of it had caught his attention. It sounded like the exact opposite of Avanthal. The boy made a mental note to avoid going there anytime soon. The revelation of meat was a curious sight, in that the girl had only offered some Ronin. He figured that this must have been a kelvic custom to which outsiders were not permitted to take part in. Though it was subtle, the boy managed to catch that the way Zasantha looked at Ronin, was a bit different than the way she...or anyone...had looked at him. It was making him feel uncomfortable to know that no matter how hard he tried, he would not be able to become the center of attention in this particular situation.
"The rain doesn't to be letting up anytime soon, so I'll be on my way." The boy spoke. He then indicated towards Zasantha, "For future reference...you may want to change your clothing just a bit...there's someone else that looks eerily similar to you..."
Gilva stepped out from the shelter of the building, and instantly became pelted by the rain. It was fortunate that he lived close to the docks, over on West Street, but he figured that he might as well walk as slow as possible just so that he could savor the fact that he had finally stepped outside of his cottage. Fear had kept him locked inside, but now it was a form of respect that was sending him back. Respect for what he inappropriately assumed to be a cultural tradition. Respect, misplaced or not, marked a difference in the boy. Perhaps having his ego harmed, wasn't so bad after all. .
Gilva recalled one other time where he had met someone who had been as fascinated with the ocean as these two seemed to be, though he did not share their enthusiasm. An ocean was simply that, an ocean. Words and actions had enticed the boy, so he failed to recognize beauty that was presented in any other form. The rain however, was a much more curious thing in that its presence had completely surprised him. Gilva had absolutely no warning that Zeltiva experienced this type of warning, and it was only because of his habit of wearing his cloak that he was able to avoid getting wet and perhaps catching a cold.
Gilva had never heard of Eyktol before, but Ronin's description of it had caught his attention. It sounded like the exact opposite of Avanthal. The boy made a mental note to avoid going there anytime soon. The revelation of meat was a curious sight, in that the girl had only offered some Ronin. He figured that this must have been a kelvic custom to which outsiders were not permitted to take part in. Though it was subtle, the boy managed to catch that the way Zasantha looked at Ronin, was a bit different than the way she...or anyone...had looked at him. It was making him feel uncomfortable to know that no matter how hard he tried, he would not be able to become the center of attention in this particular situation.
"The rain doesn't to be letting up anytime soon, so I'll be on my way." The boy spoke. He then indicated towards Zasantha, "For future reference...you may want to change your clothing just a bit...there's someone else that looks eerily similar to you..."
Gilva stepped out from the shelter of the building, and instantly became pelted by the rain. It was fortunate that he lived close to the docks, over on West Street, but he figured that he might as well walk as slow as possible just so that he could savor the fact that he had finally stepped outside of his cottage. Fear had kept him locked inside, but now it was a form of respect that was sending him back. Respect for what he inappropriately assumed to be a cultural tradition. Respect, misplaced or not, marked a difference in the boy. Perhaps having his ego harmed, wasn't so bad after all. .
