maema.

[fromrakhanaidepart]

maemaanla

[maemaanla]

fromrakhanaidepart:

     ( Fuc—— )

             There it is. The moment that he realizes that he has no idea of what this kid eats, and has just been feeding her whatever she’ll take. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he begins to feel badly for his terrible mistake and grumbles to himself about how problematic other species are.

                 ( Uhhh. Maema? What kind of food does your species eat? )

Maema is halfway through picking the lettuce and whatever else out of a cheeseburger by the time Sal actually asks her what she’s supposed to eat. And even then, when she looks up, she chews on the corner of said piece of lettuce, only before wrinkling up her nose and spitting it out.

     “Um.”  She pokes at the bun with one finger.             “Meat?”

[maemaanla]

{ shapedbywar } :

    Javik is clearly hesitant, staring at Maema’s hand. He wouldn’t normally accept this friendly gesture upon a first meeting, but he keeps in mind that this is — apparently — a child, and so he takes her hand anyway, and then finally answers her;

                “Javik.”

   She, despite being a tiny, enthusiastic child, politely shakes his hand and lets go, though shortly after fixes him with a bit of a look.

         “Ja-fik.”     That doesn’t sound right at all, but it sounds right to her. 

[maemaanla]

{ falloffaclifflaughing }

      I like your head fur. 

[maemaanla]

{ shapedbywar } :

    At the first answer, Javik gives the little girl an odd look, but the second answer brings it to fade. He lifts his head, rubbing at his neck thoughtfully, before folding his arms across his chest.

            “Shan’ye.” He had certainly not heard of them before, but Javik doesn’t mention it. “What is your name?”

         Maema beams, a mouthful of sharp, needle-like teeth.

   “Maema.” She holds up her hand, insistently waiting for him to take hers. “Who are you?” 

[maemaanla]

{ vindictive-virus }

   Timidly pads up to the stranger and tugs on his sleeve.

        “Excuse me—” …And then she just immediately stares down at her feet, fingers letting go of the leather. “Have you seen my daddy?”

[maemaanla]

{ shapedbywar } :

    Javik had to admit that the child was cute, but it didn’t affect him well enough to send him smiling or cooing. This man was beyond father material. Any interactions he had with children, if there were ever any, always made that obvious. He was nothing close to it.

            “Not yet evolved.” Javik tilts his head, “What are you?”

     “Evolved?” Her bigger eyes narrow in further confusion. ‘Evolution’ isn’t exactly something that’s been brought up in school yet. Not that she cares, as it’s forgotten the moment he asks a question.

         “I’m a girl.”    There’s a small pause of realization as she stares at the look he gives her before she blushes and continues, wringing her wrists. “Um—Shan’ye.” 

[melodiesoflife]

Visit Original Link

[skyward-sword-strike-deactivate]

Visit Original Link

[sharp-n-flats]

Visit Original Link

C418 - Minecraft - Volume Alpha

Subwoofer Lullaby

[maemaanla]

{ shapedbywar } :

                There are several different kinds of species he has seen, or heard of, but this one.. was very foreign to him. Javik had only once seen an Earth feline, but this was different. This was no Earth creature. He thins his lips, narrowing his eyes at the fluffy alien, and approaches. Curiosity driving him.

            “What kind of primitive are you?”

   She is, more or less, minding her own business, sitting on the ground with her tail folded over her lap as she carves little doodles into the wall with her claws, clearly not expecting anybody (beyond somebody asking her where her parents are) to approach until her ears flick, registering the noise of somebody walking up behind her. Maema cranes her head, staring up at the... alien with wide, curious eyes, opening her mouth to ask (almost) the same question. Minus that one word, of course.

       “Primitive?” She repeats, accent drawling the word out (purrimitive). 

[bunnyfood]

[gentlemanbones]

These almond cookies are very aggressive.

[maemaanla]

{ heiiiress } :

"[B]ecause—” The question stilled her and completely baffled her and instantly Emily became immersed, lifting a finger to coil a strand of hair. She too wondered the same. Why only on her head and have hair on her head and not everywhere else? Why did she not look the same as the other? Why did not the other look the same as her?

   It occurred to her right then and there, the same way the other said she was birth that way, so was she. “I suppose because I was born that way—although mummy said it was because sunlight. To protect our skin from the sun and to keep our heads warm too because that is where we do all our thinking!” She playfully tapped her head before her tail caught her attention again and she squealed, eagerly bouncing in her spot. “May I?”

       “Oh.” The girl says rather simply; it makes sense to her, the logic behind it. Maema looks down at her furry, fluffy legs, kicking them back and forth a little. “Then why do I have hair everywhere?” She reaches up, scratching behind one ear; it flicks forward.

      Her daddy says she has it because she’s young and it protects her, though she isn’t quite sure from what.   Their logic doesn’t match up, but this time she doesn’t say anything about it, merely shrugging equally fuzzy, bare shoulders.

   She withdraws her fingers before she can touch even a strand, not wanting to intrude without permission. And speaking of which…      A small, shy smile inches up her lips and her tail sways slightly to the side as she pulls it up in her lap (excessively feathery, furry and fluffy and fuzzy and every word in the book).            “Okay.” 

[maemaanla]

{ almaranla }:

      The wait is something that he had expected. Almar was not an impatient man, but he would call for her again should he have to, though in the next moment that passes, he wonders if she is sleeping. Large ears twitching as he registers the sound of movement upstairs.

             The little face of his daughter soon shows from around the corner, and Maema reveals herself, and Almar meets that expectant gaze, and his smile grows softer.        He wonders if he should ask first, if Maema is hungry, but he supposes that will not be too big of a problem, so the question is not voiced.

            “I wish to leave the house.” His silky voice is gentle and kind, as it almost always is for his darling child. “I was thinking perhaps we could prepare some food and place it in the basket I made, and then leave for a while to a nice field where we may eat and play, and relax.”

   She waits patiently, staring up at him with wide, round and expectant eyes, whiskers twitching in an attempt to resist the itch she wants to scratch simply from standing still.

       Merely at the prospect of leaving, she immediately perks up. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy staying here,  not at all, but it’s no secret she loves getting out, as adventurous and curious-by-nature as she is (something born more out simply being a child, rather than something inherited from one of her parents). Especially as she bounces up and down on her toes, fingers balling into excited fists.

        “Do I—” She very nearly asks if she gets to go somewhere too, but Almar continues before she can finish, as if the answer was not obvious anyway. It’s all she can do but implode from excitement on the spot; picnics are her favorite.       “Yes!” The child all but squeals, tail curling tighter around her legs, skipping a little closer to him and tugging on his shirt. “What kind of food are we making? Where are we going? Are you going to show me how to make flower pins now?” 

[maemaanla]

{ almaranla } :

           The day was too quiet.       Tranquility was among the things that Almar enjoyed, but the Shan’ye was looking for something more to do, while not having to sacrifice peacefulness. Sitting in his home with little more to occupy himself with other than reading has lost its charm for the afternoon, and so he had marked his place and put the book away, back onto it’s shelf, and moved into the kitchen.

     One was always hungry when bored, he found, his phantom stomach tugging at his brain, telling him he is hungry when he is not, though it had been a few hours since he had eaten, and he is almost always hungry. But he gains an idea, sparking as he takes note of the basket nearby, one that he had weaved recently, and a smile creeps up along his black-lined lips.

            “Maema.” Almar calls as he lifts his head, tail flicking once before he turns and wanders into the next room, his hands behind his back, expecting his daughter to have heard him and to come hear what he had to say, though there was some uncertainty settling upon him.

      Maema lays on her stomach, chest resting on a pillow as she bathes in the sunlight that washes over her from the large windows spanning the majority of one wall of her room, silk curtains wide open and a book held in her tiny hands, staring at the words intently. Even as they begin to blur over, the warm sunlight against her fur making her sleepy, eyes drooping shut and the book falling flat on the carpet from her hands.

      She almost drifts off before her father’s voice wafts through the house, one ear twitching as her larger eyes open in mere slits, pupils contracting for a moment before she yawns loudly and stretches out, fingers clutching at nothing, slowly pushing herself to her feet before giving one last stretch and scampering in the direction of the voice before he comes looking for her.

    “Daddy?” The smaller calls back in a softer, quieter voice, peeking just around the corner of the living room until she spots the sleeker Shan’ye standing in the center of the room, padding out from the corner of the next wall, looking up at him, tail curling around already fluffy legs. “What is it?”

[maemaanla]

{ heiiiress } :

        [E]mily outstretched her rosette palms in protest, feeling regret, perhaps she had been too startling. “Don’t feel frightened! I didn’t—” She lowered her voice, cupping her hands cover her mouth, giggling. “I shouldn’t be so loud and we are in a library no less!” The child flinched, quickly padding close to her, completely mesmerized with the extra set of eyes that stared back at her.

    “Why do you have so many eyes?” Despite her avid imagination, Emily was never prepared for anything that defined reality, but all the questions would come pouring and her hands would reach to touch the softness of her fur. “Why are you covered in fur?” 

  Maema stares in bemusement, her fear wearing off as quickly as it had come, replaced by nothing but confusion. But she still lifts her book again, hiding half of her face as she smiles at the giggle the other girl gives—what a strange… thing, too. Species. She is not unaware of others, of course, but… She hadn’t seen another yet in her small lifetime, so the situation at hand is a little baffling for her.

       “I-I, um,” Maema lifts one hand, holding the book tightly to her chest with her free hand, three fingers splayed out on the hardened cover, lifting the hand to her eyes.      “I was born with them.” The outstretched hand makes her stare a little warily, but she doesn’t flinch away, letting the small hand touch the upper right side of her head, the fluff around the top of her ears. “I was born with it too,” she says a little louder, the ‘R’s in her words drawn out, similar to a cat’s purr.

    “Why is yours only on your head?” She asks, letting the book fall to her lap again as she reaches out, attempting to touch her hand to the other girl’s hair, tongue sticking out in contemplative concentration. 

[colorize-my-life]

[maemaanla]

{ heiiiress } :

   ✣ [ ᴍᴀᴇᴍᴀᴀɴʟᴀ ]

   [E]mily saw her and she first believed her tired eyes played tricks on her—a white creature, sat, completely immersed in a book twice their size. The little empress could not help but wonder and approached, carefully creeping between the books laying on the rug padding. “Excuse me—”

The blanket of fluff paused her dead in her tracks and she jaw fell slack. “Y—you have a tail!”

   Ƭhe hard edges and corners of the book press into the fluff of her legs, dangling off the edge of a large chair about ten times her size, tail neatly curled around her frail body, shedding white fur and contently swaying back and forth. A small finger reaches up to her mouth, dabbing it with her tongue before it dips forward again, turning the page—a… human book, something along the lines of what she assumes is mythology. Interesting enough to where Maema’s already completely forgotten she’s missed lunch.

      As distracted as she is, the intrusion of a voice, high pitched and feminine somewhat similar to her own pulls her attention away and she looks up, just barely peeking over the edge of the large book, ears pressing back and eyes widening in the sudden exclamation pointed towards her tail.

   The Shan’ye lets the book fall to her lap, a small puff of white fur scattering in the air, timidly holding her tail to her chest.                    “You—you don’t?”