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Post by Margorr on Nov 19, 2015 23:57:49 GMT -5
"That sounds good, Taurian. Rainy days are the best for long stories, I'd have to agree!!" She paused to take a sip of her drink before continuing. "Would you like to sit down, Taurian? Or perhaps take a walk around the Abbey grounds? It's a lovely evening, I know a great spot up on the wall."
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Not wanting to get snacks from the same bigbeasts Chit was, at least not right away, Rylee wandered around the table looking for anyone who looked like they'd take sympathy on her. She managed to get a slice of cake from an old squirrel, and then shortly after, got a bunch of candied chestnuts. She was wandering around the table snacking on these, when she came across Daniel. He looked a little sad, so she wandered up to him and tugged on his sleeve.
"Mista Dan, ee lukkin sad. Hurr ee go." She offered him some of her candied chestnuts, hoping to lift the mouse's spirits some.
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Post by Taurian on Nov 21, 2015 8:00:43 GMT -5
Taurian smiled at the other otter. "If it's alright with ye, I'd not mind walking around a bit. I 'aven't been able tae sit still for more than a few minutes. Let's take some food an' walk a bit, an' then take a look at yer spot on the wall, eh?"
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Post by Constable 216D on Nov 22, 2015 15:21:08 GMT -5
There was little doubt in Abbot Whittle's mind that the nameday feast for the Spring of the Singing Larks was a success. The very air was charged with the spirits of revelry and camaraderie, an unbridled energy that delighted the old Abbot. He marveled at the sounds of laughter, singing, and jesting, intermingled with the clatter of myriad dishes passing most certainly from paw to paw. His soul was tickled down to its very roots as he conversed with the elders of Redwall seated around him at the head of the table. Content with a mug of warm mint tea and a wedge of hazelnut cake flanked by a dollop of meadowcream, the Abbot settled further into his comfortable chair. "Thank you, Martin, for watching over us through the winter," he whispered under his breath. "Help me shepherd these creatures in the spring to come."
He could not refrain from furrowing his brow in frustration as that feeling of foreboding flitted into his mind once again, tainting his entreaty to Martin. The Abbot lifted his mug of tea from the tabletop, inhaling its calming aroma. Mentally, he withdrew from the feast, struggling with his inner thoughts of concern and fear as he contemplatively sipped the tea. He longed to enjoy the company of his fellow Redwallers without having his pleasure rudely interrupted by sudden dread. Though he had not been bothered by such unrest for long, the meaning of the unwarranted feeling eluded him, an uncertainty that doubled the Abbot's anxiety and ofttimes stole his appetite. Mindlessly, Abbot Whittle replaced his tea on the table and began toying with his fork, fluffing the meadowcream upon his plate.
What does this mean? he wondered to himself, his face wreathed with worry.
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Post by Gingivere-Greeneyes on Dec 14, 2015 20:59:59 GMT -5
"Hoho! Fair point, fair point!" the badger laughed heartilly, clapping the owl soundly on the back with one enormous blunt paw. He continued digging in to his bowl of trifle that was larger than a mole as he listened to Tsaron and Mildredd's conversation, nodding automatically and giving a few humms of interest.
Cornelius' attention was diverted however when he heard the faintest of whisperings from the chair at the head of the table beside him. He turned his big, dog-like head towards the dainty little father, whom he noticed was looking rather concerned, and was not eating on top of that. A symptom of age? Or something more?
"Feeling all-right Father?" he asked, dropping his voice and bending his stripy head down to be able to whisper privatley into the ruling mouse's big ears. A look of concern in his warm black eyes.
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Daniel was jolted from his sombre mood when he felt a few small tugs on the hem of his robe. He looked down, and could not surpress a smile when he saw the velvety face of a little baby mole staring back up at him.
"Heh, thanks Rylee." he smiled half-heartedlly, taking the nuts from her and staring blankly down at them as he ran them through his paws.
At that moment Ryan leaned all the way across the table and snatched them neatly from his hand with a "Yoink!" and he gobbled them down appreciativley, knowing Daniel certainly wasn't in the mood to be doing much eating.
"Down't wurry 'bout 'im Rylee." He said through a mouthful of chestnuts, talking while chewing and with his mouth open too, and breaking most rules of Abbey ettiquite in the process. "He's just being a bit of a sodden-stoat-stickler tonight." Okay, maybe not the best expression to use in front of impressionable young ears. But hey, in his defence, he could've done a lot worse.
"Seriously though," he straightened up, looking back at the other mouse. "What's really up?"
"I-It's nothing." Daniel turned away, trying to wave him and the dibbun off. "Just a stupid dream, that's all."
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Post by Margorr on Dec 14, 2015 22:50:25 GMT -5
Rylee climbed up in Daniel's lap and helped herself to some of the food on his plate while he talked to Ryan. She lost interest in food though when Daniel mentioned a dream. She loved hearing about dreams, they were usually rather silly, though Daniel seemed sad about his.
"Tell uz abowt ee dream. oi has lotsa dreamz, norra good uns alla toime. Favver Corny sez iff'n oi stops eatin' ee flowers oi won't 'ave noightmares. Did ee 'ave noightmares mista Dan?"
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Post by Constable 216D on Dec 15, 2015 17:12:36 GMT -5
The Abbot jumped slightly, issuing a petite squeak of fright as Father Cornelius's breath tickled his ear. Reaching up with one frail paw to scratch the itchy spot, he turned his face in the badger's direction, sightless eyes focused on a point in the distance. "Oh, forgive me, Cornelius. Er, yes yes, I am all right, merely, ah, contemplating the wondrous feast set before us by our beloved Friar..." Abbot Whittle's quaking voice trailed off into silence. He tilted his head to one side, distress and guilt clearly written into the delicate creases in his headfur. It was one thing to fib to a friend, but lying straight to Father Cornelius's face was more than the old mouse could bear. The Abbot set his fork down upon the table with a quiet sigh and reached for Father Cornelius with one paw, gently grasping the great badger's mighty forearm. "My friend," he began, his voice soft, "if something was bothering you deeply, would you ever think to tell me about it?" The question was a sincere one, and there was a hint of fear in the Abbot's tone.
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mads
Dibbun
Posts: 49 
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Post by mads on Dec 30, 2015 1:30:54 GMT -5
Cypress slipped into the feast a little late. He had been experimenting in the infirmary with several books that he had found in the library, and had completely lost track of time.
He leaned heavily on his cane, inwardly cursing those horrible stairs, before glancing around and finding an empty seat.
"Hello, would you mind if I sat here?" He asked the person beside. "It's dreadfully rude, I know, arriving so late, but I felt that I was on to something there for a few moments!"
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bye!
