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[PP-F04] Mirror, Tell Me Something


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"Kintsukuroi..." Mari repeated airily. "Yeh...It's...quite beautiful." She traced patterns in the air with her index finger. "I love the patterns it creates - I wish we had something like that. It seems so wasteful to throw things away. I try to be fairly frugal - I grew up in...ah...sometimes we'd have to eat stale or mouldy bread - and I am fairly certain there were days were my mum didn't eat just to feed us. But - ah it sounds worse than it actually is." Mari said sheepishly. "We had a good upbringing."

Instead of moving to her position opposite him Mari chose to sit where she stood, just to his side - she slid her feet under the Kotastu to keep them warm and bought her knees up to her chest so she could lean her head on them, watching him silently as he continued to speak about the philosphy of fixing what was broken. She had an incline as to why he was talking about this - it may be his way of telling her that she may be broken now, but that would change in the future. Mari closed her eyes. The words escaping her without her realization as they were spoken upon an exhaled breath.  "I'm not pretty like Kintsukuroi." There was beauty in imperfection, but some flaws ran too deep - some stains too black. Still, his words bought her a comfort she didn't realize she needed. It was like an emotional warmth, a soft blanket that wrapped around her starved form.

He spoke of his past, and Mari did her best to hold onto each and every word. Talking about your past here...it was precious, guarded. So many people didn't want others to know that about themselves. Mari shut her eyes and tried to imagine him as a pompous knight - steadfast and self righteous. She snorted lightly, it ....amused her.  "Each person paints their own pictures." Mari said as she lifted her head momentarily from her knees. "Or, in other words you could say we weave our own tapestries. We can never really see our own work from afar, so we're always so critical of ourselves. Ahh...like that famous painting..." Mari couldn't recall the painting, but she had hoped he knew what she was referring to. "Sorry, I don't have a way with words like you do." She paused. "You know...I think you'd make a good Philosophy teacher too, or a guide of some kind. You have a way with words."

Half lidded eyes opened and closed slowly his voice was so melodic. The richness of his honeyed tone, luxurious in its own way. Like a rumbling storm upon the horizon.  "The way you talk could almost be an instrument in itself." She said quietly as she rested her head back down in her knees.

"For what its worth Baldur...you've done more good for me than you realize, and you don't even know me. I value that...I really do, and who determines these tests? Take a step back from your own tapestry, and I'm sure you and others would see just how much good you really do, I feel like you're doing all those things already."

@Baldur

 

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"I'm not pretty like Kintsukuroi."

Baldur's eyebrow twitched when she said the word, in an almost distracted manner. Obviously there were some deeper seeded psychological issues going on there.

"Each person paints their own pictures. Or, in other words you could say we weave our own tapestries. We can never really see our own work from afar, so we're always so critical of ourselves. Ahh...like that famous painting...Sorry, I don't have a way with words like you do." She paused. "You know...I think you'd make a good Philosophy teacher too, or a guide of some kind. You have a way with words."

Baldur's smile was wry when she countered herself with her own words.

"You took the words right out of my mouth. You could say we can't see our own works, and we're always so critical of ourselves." The expression on his face was subtle twist of his lips and play of his eyes, but it was obvious he was holding  back some amusement. "We are the least authoritative voice in judging ourselves."

The compliments she lavished him with made him a bit uncomfortable, but some of them also hit home in his vanity. He appreciated that she could listen to what he was trying to say, and take those words to heart. He often times had trouble conveying the deeper meaning of his words, but they seemed to find fertile soil in Mari. He picked the cup up, and finished off his tea before stirring under the kotatsu.

"And with that, I must depart. I am afraid this particular shugyosha has his own house to build and dojo to setup." He gave Mari a deep bow once he was standing.

"Thank you very much for the warm hospitality, and the even better conversation. I look forward to being able to show you my home soon as well."

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