The softness of the furs were a hiding place to K'takka. The bright pillow she brought into her lap was at once warming and cooling, its weight upon her limbs like a focus to hold her steady. She did not react to Yohko's dashing kick, muttering instead down towards the floor, "I may be done with the girl. She knows neither peace nor silence nor consideration for aught but herself. She is addicted to words, reaction, her own perception of her right to act. Disobedience is disrespect. An infant knows as much. Outsiders, it seems, do not."
Her eyes lifted to K'yohko for a moment and then wandered, perhaps finding the other Elders. She spoke as muttering, "If one wishes to walk, one must first stand still. If one wishes to speak, one must first remain silent," her words slowed, "for a long," and grew quiet, "long time."
Her thin body dappled with scars and ancient wounds, pale gaze falling back to the floor in front of her, K'takka closed her eyes and breath. Her bony fingers knit into the pillow she held.
Her eyes lifted to K'yohko for a moment and then wandered, perhaps finding the other Elders. She spoke as muttering, "If one wishes to walk, one must first stand still. If one wishes to speak, one must first remain silent," her words slowed, "for a long," and grew quiet, "long time."
Her thin body dappled with scars and ancient wounds, pale gaze falling back to the floor in front of her, K'takka closed her eyes and breath. Her bony fingers knit into the pillow she held.
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