Mistake [OPEN]
Jan 24, 2017 23:15:14 GMT
Post by Kyklous on Jan 24, 2017 23:15:14 GMT
Silence dominated the hills on that particular night. The gentle wind made no effort to howl; the small, uninhabited springs made no effort to ripple; even the sounds of crawling failed to be produced from the diurnal digimon who made no effort to arise from sleep. If a person was to pass, at best they would hear a "sh, sh, sh," the sound that the displaced soil made as it fell to the side to allow Tanemon to unearth herself.
Tanemon quickly investigated her surroundings to ascertain the success of her plan. The hills were decorated with Tanemon "seedlings" buried in neat rows as if a person had carefully planted them. Not a sound was heard. Perhaps because of their natural timidness, even the Tanemon's sleeping was unimposing. Even if one was to cock an ear, they would hear no hint of moaning, snoring, or even a yawn. It was just silence; sweet, sweet silence.
She knew it! Nighttime was the only time they could ever truly be silent. Tanemon smiled as she contemplated the events that led to her realization. It was one unfortunate day when the other Tanemon failed to forage for food. Desperate for basic nourishment, they all rooted their feet in the ground for the rest of the day to reap the full benefits of photosynthesis. Tanemon hadn't noticed at first since she stayed behind, as she often did, to dig holes for her own amusement, but even she would eventually notice the uninterrupted silence.
Lest you misunderstand, Tanemon didn't hate the other Tanemon, nor were they very noisy. For the most part, they were reserved enough to only say what they thought needed to be said. It's just that, as far as Tanemon was concerned, nothing needed to be said. She didn't need to engage in short awkward conversations, nor did she need to be nagged about the work she had no intention of doing. Playing with others was potentially nice, but the benefits were outweighed by the probability of that event leading to the former. It was far better to just play when everyone else was sleeping.
The transition wasn't easy. Staying up at night necessitated a change in her circadian rhythm; a change, and Tanemon hated change above all things. However, the blissful silence of the night somehow made her think it was all worth it, and to think that if she somehow figured out how to do photosynthesis during the night, she could stay as long as she liked in the dark!...in the dark...?...in...the......
Oh.
How could she get so proud of coming up with a plan this stupid? Why did she think this was a good idea? Silence may have dominated the hills, but there was nothing "sweet" about it! If one was to investigate the hills, they would be able to see basic landscapes, but they wouldn't be able to make out any distinct features. At a time where everything is obscured in darkness, silence is a malevolent force that aids the predator and endangers the prey!
In short, Tanemon had made a mistake.
"I made a terr-Ah!" Tanemon screamed and frantically looked around for the source of the voice. Her first instinct was to try to peer into the distance, but common sense told her the voice came from nearby. Then she looked at the rows of Tanemon, but not a single one had even twitched. Even if they were awake underneath the soil, their voice would be too filtered to hear as clearly, which meant...the voice was hers. -_-
"Hi.""Tanemon.""Bye.""I'm hungry." Tanemon tried many common phrases to refamiliarize herself with her voice after days of no use. Tension of the moment lost in acknowledgment of her own silliness, Tanemon decided she may as well use the time to play around as she wanted.
"..."
"..."
"...Digging a hole..."
"Isn't this rock interesting? Ha, ha, ha..."
But the tension wouldn't leave. There was always this feeling that something was watching her; that there was something hiding in a shroud of silence and shadows. There had to be.
Tanemon quickly investigated her surroundings to ascertain the success of her plan. The hills were decorated with Tanemon "seedlings" buried in neat rows as if a person had carefully planted them. Not a sound was heard. Perhaps because of their natural timidness, even the Tanemon's sleeping was unimposing. Even if one was to cock an ear, they would hear no hint of moaning, snoring, or even a yawn. It was just silence; sweet, sweet silence.
She knew it! Nighttime was the only time they could ever truly be silent. Tanemon smiled as she contemplated the events that led to her realization. It was one unfortunate day when the other Tanemon failed to forage for food. Desperate for basic nourishment, they all rooted their feet in the ground for the rest of the day to reap the full benefits of photosynthesis. Tanemon hadn't noticed at first since she stayed behind, as she often did, to dig holes for her own amusement, but even she would eventually notice the uninterrupted silence.
Lest you misunderstand, Tanemon didn't hate the other Tanemon, nor were they very noisy. For the most part, they were reserved enough to only say what they thought needed to be said. It's just that, as far as Tanemon was concerned, nothing needed to be said. She didn't need to engage in short awkward conversations, nor did she need to be nagged about the work she had no intention of doing. Playing with others was potentially nice, but the benefits were outweighed by the probability of that event leading to the former. It was far better to just play when everyone else was sleeping.
The transition wasn't easy. Staying up at night necessitated a change in her circadian rhythm; a change, and Tanemon hated change above all things. However, the blissful silence of the night somehow made her think it was all worth it, and to think that if she somehow figured out how to do photosynthesis during the night, she could stay as long as she liked in the dark!...in the dark...?...in...the......
Oh.
How could she get so proud of coming up with a plan this stupid? Why did she think this was a good idea? Silence may have dominated the hills, but there was nothing "sweet" about it! If one was to investigate the hills, they would be able to see basic landscapes, but they wouldn't be able to make out any distinct features. At a time where everything is obscured in darkness, silence is a malevolent force that aids the predator and endangers the prey!
In short, Tanemon had made a mistake.
"I made a terr-Ah!" Tanemon screamed and frantically looked around for the source of the voice. Her first instinct was to try to peer into the distance, but common sense told her the voice came from nearby. Then she looked at the rows of Tanemon, but not a single one had even twitched. Even if they were awake underneath the soil, their voice would be too filtered to hear as clearly, which meant...the voice was hers. -_-
"Hi.""Tanemon.""Bye.""I'm hungry." Tanemon tried many common phrases to refamiliarize herself with her voice after days of no use. Tension of the moment lost in acknowledgment of her own silliness, Tanemon decided she may as well use the time to play around as she wanted.
"..."
"..."
"...Digging a hole..."
"Isn't this rock interesting? Ha, ha, ha..."
But the tension wouldn't leave. There was always this feeling that something was watching her; that there was something hiding in a shroud of silence and shadows. There had to be.
