Comments | poison_lipstick: [dated to November 29]

poison_lipstick

[dated to November 29]

Dec 01, 2011 22:39

Calligraphy was something that had always interested Saffron. It was a part of the Chinese culture, integrated into the culture of her world back home, the culture of the Alliance. For all that she was fluent in speaking and reading the language, she didn't get much practice in writing it, though she was familiar. Calligraphy, though, wasn't just ( Read more... )

zhuge

Comments 3

patration December 5 2011, 00:53:50 UTC

While it was pretty clear from the first day he spent on the island that its residents had no small interest in different ages and cultures, still, Zhuge had been rather surprised when he finally received a request for a personal lesson or two. He'd offered up his skills to one of the auctions held some months ago, but to see that Helen remembered this particular talent of his was touching in its own way, and so he was all too happy to oblige her request. Calligraphy combined a great deal of arts that were important to those in his time, the art of injecting emotion and beauty into every single stroke, combined with the art of crafting poetry to suit the style. To be a good calligrapher, one had to be capable of all of these things ( ... )

poison_lipstick December 14 2011, 06:10:25 UTC

"Good afternoon," Saffron replied with a warm smile as she made her way inside and took what appeared to be a cursory glance around. Her gaze fell on Zhuge's pigeons, which made her smile deepen. There was something about a man who had creatures he cared so lovingly for that was just terrible sweet to her.

"I've been looking forward to starting our lessons," she said, looking back over at him.

patration December 17 2011, 05:54:22 UTC

He had set out a low table on top of a bamboo mat, as well as a few pillows around in case Helen preferred a little more of a cushion while sitting, but on the whole the hut was rather sparse. The few decorations laying about were all made of bamboo, less because he cared so deeply for the material, and instead because it was plentiful, and had been easier to work on that day he'd gotten to enjoy manipulating the material at will. With the door to his bedroom closed, he busied himself in the common room, a few tools off to the side. Most importantly, there was a stove and a small tea kettle, borrowed from the Compound, heating away ( ... )