LOVE GROWS COLDER IN NOVEMBER [o, learning]

IVAN ZIMAVICH BRAGINSKY ✧ russian bear dog — proxy — tags[/color]

Ivan had taken a tooth from an alligator skull, a pointy rock, and a piece of wood. He currently was in his den, scarf tight around his neck, eyes staring at the board. He struggled to remember, practicing and writing random letters in the dirt. The symbols were sporadic and held no meaning to the others. Ivan felt the words and the letters were a part of him, however. So he had to regain it.
A few practice times in the dirt, then he took the rock in his teeth and started scratching the board.

Я - Иван Зимавич Брагинский

I am Ivan Zimavich Braginsky.

He set the board outside his den, to mark his home.

© madi

malphas couldn't understand why or how some of these people could read or write. he certainly wasn't an idiot. narrowing his eyes in confusion, the dark-furred feline slid over, his focus trained on the dog and the other cat. there was still stained and dried blood on his face from another meal. he knew the dog didn't like him because he was a cannibal but he had made no attempt to clean himself up. looking at the cat, he tilted his head in thought. he didn't know vigenere's opinion on him, but he assumed they were on good terms since there was nothing to say otherwise.

then he felt bad for not knowing how to read or write and then came the self-loathing. it chilled him to the core and he gritted his teeth. malphas was an idiot, he was sure of it.

"how do you do that." it was a statement, not a question, and he delivered it with no inflection. did he really want to learn? he was just jealous. 

IVAN ZIMAVICH BRAGINSKY ✧ russian bear dog — proxy — tags[/color]

The dog looked at his scratchy Russian, turning as Vigenere walked in. He gave a warning bark at the cat, then paused. He knew him, but the cat was in his domain and it needed to be clear who’s den this was.
He did the same when Malphas came in, but his greeting included a small growl. He didn’t trust the newcomer. Looked too much like Beck and he wasn’t pleased with that cannibalism stunt.
“My.... name.” He gestured to the practiced letters in the dirt. “Son of Winter.” he said, more confidently and puffing his chest out.

At Malphas’ question, Zimavich beckoned him over, gesturing to the dirt again. He dragged his paw in the dirt to make letters, then scrapped it away. ”One way.” he then took a stick in his mouth, dragging it to make another letter. ”Another way.” He took a rock and did the same thing.

© madi