Pippity-Doo-Dah, Pippity-Ay
03-10-2016, 07:39 PM
After finding himself with nothing to do and energy that needed to go somewhere Pipit had taken up aimlessly wandering Abaven territory. If anyone questioned his motives he could play it off as patrolling since he kept finding himself at the borders, but in reality he was just incredibly bored. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. A spar sounded like a good, productive task to undertake, but that didn't appeal to him. Neither did hunting, which was another perfectly acceptable, productive, possibly helpful thing since he himself wasn't hungry but someone somewhere had to be, but he didn't want to hunt either. He was the kind of bored that just had to be weathered, it seemed. Pip wasn't exactly sure where the lazy, useless slump had come from, but he couldn't wait for it to pass. Perhaps he needed a hobby of some sort. Healing, he supposed, had to be interesting since a number of his relatives proudly wore the moniker 'healer' but the idea of playing with plants didn't really appeal to him. There was a scientific side of it that he found intriguing, but he hadn't the desire to poke and prod at other people's oozy, pus-filled whatevers and knowing that he'd be faced with such cases eventually killed his intrigue. Perhaps there was a side of healing he could get into that didn't require him to actually touch people.
Blargh, why couldn't he be productive? It was an absolutely gorgeous day. The sun beaming down on him was almost too warm, but there was a breeze that made it perfect. Hell, there was even birdsong and the smell of flowers wafting around. It was a good day for something, so how was it that he, on this fine, fine day, had nothing better to do than kill time? Pipit was tempted to latch onto the next person who happened by. Surely they had to be doing something better than this.
Blargh, why couldn't he be productive? It was an absolutely gorgeous day. The sun beaming down on him was almost too warm, but there was a breeze that made it perfect. Hell, there was even birdsong and the smell of flowers wafting around. It was a good day for something, so how was it that he, on this fine, fine day, had nothing better to do than kill time? Pipit was tempted to latch onto the next person who happened by. Surely they had to be doing something better than this.