#baronyofthesilverwolf

"No?"

"You have no name to call me by, not even one of your own choosing," that flute like voice points out as if this makes total sense

"You're right, I don't."

"you may if you like, I don't mind. I've been blocked by walls of this land's forgetfulness so long I don't really recall one in particular anyway"

"Mm. The names I give things usually aren't nice."

"Well, why not call me Nyce? That way I won't be what's usual"

She laughs. "Nyce it is!"

Nyce's large maw opens in what looks like a toothless grin

"I hope you get to do lots of exploring. That's what I'm up to - wanna see all the new furkin' shiny shit."

"Aw, (&^%(^%$$."

"Do you have shiny shit with you?" Nyce looks curious

"No. I mean, this is shiny shit." She gestures around.

"Ah, I thought you made some shiny shit. " A nod

"Oh. That's what they say I do."

"Nockers make stuff."

Nyce bobs it's (or is she a she?) big head again "Most likely, but you should make what makes you happy"

"Hmph! Most of what I make turns out wrong."

"No. It turns out not perfect. Nockers always think 'not perfect ' is wrong"

"But.. but it IS!"

"What is perfect for one, is not perfect for another, your drek, is another personn's wonderful, and that is a gift you can give to the world, your less than perfect is still a wonder"

"But I can see what it should be."

"just.. boom, in my head. I know what it should be."

"So keep trying for that, without the shame of not getting it perfect the first 99 times" Nyce suggests "Perfect is YOUR hunt, but take pride in wonderful but not perfect anyway" Nyce flops over and rubs her back on the ground

"Harrumph!" She doesn't seem that irked, but grousing comes naturally.

"Nockers" Nyce says in that way that indicates she might actually find them more amusing than annoying.

"Artists."

"Mm that is true"

"Exactly."

"You gotta be dissatisfied, or you turn into Thomas Kincaid."

"Who is Thomas Kincaid?" Curiously inquired, as the behemoth rolls over

"Ohhhhh... so, this (*&%5## makes his living as a so-called 'painter of light' and has furkin' catalogs and puzzles and calendars and Hallmark Cards, right?"

"All the SAME picture, of some bougie bullshit bungalow just BLASTING cadmium yellow smears over snowy landscapes, pretending it looks cozy and homey, but it only looks like that to psychopaths."

"Snowy land scapes that are blasting are dangerous" Nyce says "One can die in a blizzard"

"Agreed."

"If he should come heere, I will ask him to leave and take his Cadmium with him" Nyce assures Thistle

"Well then, that's a deal."

A firm stamp of her foot, heavier than Gwennn

"Deal"

The brings out a grin. "Cool."

A Text hits her phone

She checks!

It's from Gwen

TXT: hey, Lacrosse practice over. Just checkin on you

TXT: Exploring, out in the Brownlee Woods

TXT: All well?

TXT: Y!

TXT: Want company?

TXT: Got company. Come meet, but U gotta promise 2 b nice

"It's Gwen. She's cool. Big softie."

"She is?" It looks like Nyce had backed away a bit nervously. "Well, very well"