The Shade {Josiah Cole} (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deaths_head) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2023-11-22 10:22 am
deaths_head) wrote in ph_logs2023-11-22 10:22 am
his head's on fire and his heart is burning
Who: The Shade (deaths_head) & Nieve Winslow (icanmakeit)
What:
The Shade's been stewing over something for a while--too long for a damn wind chime.
When:
late November/early December
Where:
Oak & Iron
Warning(s):
None I can think of? Will add if they come up.
I am not good at making things with my hands, not like you.
Those words have been rattling around in his head for weeks upon weeks, never far from his thoughts. The pan flute, the wind chimes--nothing that's been mentioned since. Granted, there's been a hell of a lot going on, but when his hand is left idle, he's found himself sketching ideas. When he hasn't got a face left in his head to carve out of whatever bit of wood finds his fingers wrapped around it, he's been whittling everything from penny whistles to recorders. Anything that the air can sound upon.
The air...or the breath...
The notion brings him back to the library a few times, sends him hunting in the woods, and when he's got something he likes he leaves a note under Nieve's door one morning.
Oak & Iron, lunch. Need to talk to you.
When she arrives, she'll find the Shade folded into a chair at a table near the back--not uncommon for him, here or when he's met her in their world. When she reaches him, she'll find him with a pan flute he's working on, carefully measuring the width before setting a penknife against one of the tubes to carve a symbol into it before blowing a gentle breath across the opening to check the note.
Rather than the hollow song of the reed it appears to be fashioned from, a deeper note plays--one that almost can't be heard, but will resonate in Nieve's chest with a tone that ignites pure dread.
deaths_head) & Nieve Winslow (icanmakeit)What:
The Shade's been stewing over something for a while--too long for a damn wind chime.
When:
late November/early December
Where:
Oak & Iron
Warning(s):
None I can think of? Will add if they come up.
I am not good at making things with my hands, not like you.
Those words have been rattling around in his head for weeks upon weeks, never far from his thoughts. The pan flute, the wind chimes--nothing that's been mentioned since. Granted, there's been a hell of a lot going on, but when his hand is left idle, he's found himself sketching ideas. When he hasn't got a face left in his head to carve out of whatever bit of wood finds his fingers wrapped around it, he's been whittling everything from penny whistles to recorders. Anything that the air can sound upon.
The air...or the breath...
The notion brings him back to the library a few times, sends him hunting in the woods, and when he's got something he likes he leaves a note under Nieve's door one morning.
Oak & Iron, lunch. Need to talk to you.
When she arrives, she'll find the Shade folded into a chair at a table near the back--not uncommon for him, here or when he's met her in their world. When she reaches him, she'll find him with a pan flute he's working on, carefully measuring the width before setting a penknife against one of the tubes to carve a symbol into it before blowing a gentle breath across the opening to check the note.
Rather than the hollow song of the reed it appears to be fashioned from, a deeper note plays--one that almost can't be heard, but will resonate in Nieve's chest with a tone that ignites pure dread.