[Thankfully she saw Drifter's words before being sentenced to this blanket prison and Seto's response isn't so confusing. Though she could've swore Drifter said white dog and she knows of one such puppy on this island. Her voice is muffled by her new outfit and she makes no attempt to remove it. This is kind of cozy and it's not like she has to worry about looking out for danger with both Seto and Drifter here, not to mention they're safe in this Glyph-y hideout.]
I don't think they all are. The Tokyo dogs were mean-they weren't gods.
[But a white dog. That bothers her. She knows the Storyteller and the black jackel from Drifter's memory and-
One hand shoots out from under the blanket, feeling around for some chalk, and when she manages to find a piece by touch alone, she starts to doodle something. It's terrible. She's not even peeking. Lines are crossing, the shapes make no sense-it's bad.]
Gods are nice and strong and say kind things to you. They don't know how to use bandaids, but they try to heal your heart. That's how you can tell.
[That does not clarify much, but to the Drifter - well, it had been obvious enough, what she was. An incredible, celestial being, perhaps not what they understood as a god in accordance to the jackal they recall from home, but the polar opposite. Where the jackal was sleek and jet-dark, the wolf is flowing and pure, snowy white.]
[Death and life. The diametric opposition was very simple, to them.]
[Unfortunately Seto's gone his whole life without the knowledge of gods. So the white wolf in question remained just that: a white wolf. Or rather, a white dog.
But she was the nicest dog he's ever met before, one that didn't try to hurt him. That alone was special to Seto.]
The one with the garden? She's really nice.
[She also got their stuff back from those scary people but....Seto isn't going to talk about that.]
[When she finishes her terrible doodle of said garden doggo, she pulls the blanket from over her hand to read the rest of this convo. Nani the heck? It's really the same one? Ren has Questions.
Even if it kind of makes sense. The way she managed to grow something from nothing using art, the fact that she's kind and unwilling to chase and rip people apart for a meal. That all seems like pleasant, godlike behavior.]
How do you know?
[Did Drifter tell her stories and get fun items? Did she say something? Can she talk? Did she write it? The heck.]
[The Drifter tilts their head in momentary confusion. Then, recognizing the necessity in seeing what little of their ace may communicate as such, they finally drag the blanket off of their own head and let it pool in their lap.]
[They had seen her in such a way that not all did. Perhaps it was in this way that her true nature was obvious.]
[It is difficult, they’re discovering, to describe in exact terms what they mean. They had looked at her, and they had seen. They had looked at her, and she was the diametric opposition to the jackal, slender and coal-black and heralding death. She was life, absolute, as far as they were concerned.]
[It leaves them uncertain how best to translate this, when their descriptors are all abstract.]
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no subject
I don't think they all are. The Tokyo dogs were mean-they weren't gods.
[But a white dog. That bothers her. She knows the Storyteller and the black jackel from Drifter's memory and-
One hand shoots out from under the blanket, feeling around for some chalk, and when she manages to find a piece by touch alone, she starts to doodle something. It's terrible. She's not even peeking. Lines are crossing, the shapes make no sense-it's bad.]
Gods are nice and strong and say kind things to you. They don't know how to use bandaids, but they try to heal your heart. That's how you can tell.
no subject
[That does not clarify much, but to the Drifter - well, it had been obvious enough, what she was. An incredible, celestial being, perhaps not what they understood as a god in accordance to the jackal they recall from home, but the polar opposite. Where the jackal was sleek and jet-dark, the wolf is flowing and pure, snowy white.]
[Death and life. The diametric opposition was very simple, to them.]
have met her?
no subject
But she was the nicest dog he's ever met before, one that didn't try to hurt him. That alone was special to Seto.]
The one with the garden? She's really nice.
[She also got their stuff back from those scary people but....Seto isn't going to talk about that.]
no subject
Even if it kind of makes sense. The way she managed to grow something from nothing using art, the fact that she's kind and unwilling to chase and rip people apart for a meal. That all seems like pleasant, godlike behavior.]
How do you know?
[Did Drifter tell her stories and get fun items? Did she say something? Can she talk? Did she write it? The heck.]
no subject
[They had seen her in such a way that not all did. Perhaps it was in this way that her true nature was obvious.]
looked like one
no subject
She has really pretty fur. I don't think I've seen a dog with white fur before.
no subject
[She kept track of cats, not dogs, so while she met many, many kitties she named Shiro, it's hard to say about their doggy counterparts.
But the white dog roaming about the island is a creature she remembers-how can Drifter tell they're a god? Looked like one-how?]
Does she have a book or horns? Is that how you can tell?
no subject
full of life
[It is difficult, they’re discovering, to describe in exact terms what they mean. They had looked at her, and they had seen. They had looked at her, and she was the diametric opposition to the jackal, slender and coal-black and heralding death. She was life, absolute, as far as they were concerned.]
[It leaves them uncertain how best to translate this, when their descriptors are all abstract.]