"Well, they can't roast it." The fire. "Or pluck it for a pillow, which leaves only the cage."
"Each of the princes promises in turn that they'll be the ones to catch the bird. But it comes very late at night, singing the most melodious lullabyes, and one after the other they fall straight asleep."
"The youngest prince hatches a plan. He ties a string to his finger," Alright. He's starting to forget how any of this goes. Where was the bit about the fruit? "And the other to the door of a cage. When he nods off for the music, his hand will fall and —"
Wouldn't lulling the king to sleep be a good thing? Why did he pick a story he's last heard maybe thirty years ago?
"Well, that's not important. The string doesn't work either, but it does startle our hero awake. Enough to spot it flying off in the direction of a rival kingdom."
Six isn't sure if there's meant to be a point to this story. Sometimes she has heard tell of stories where there is some kind of moral or some message to be learned and adapted - not from her father, nor her absent mother, but from some of the women who washed clothes by the rivers and the soldiers who fought at her side.
Slowly, she leans forward to stroke down and along her steed's head, gentle and soft as she rubs at it's flank. At least this she can survive; riding is second nature.
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"Each of the princes promises in turn that they'll be the ones to catch the bird. But it comes very late at night, singing the most melodious lullabyes, and one after the other they fall straight asleep."
"The youngest prince hatches a plan. He ties a string to his finger," Alright. He's starting to forget how any of this goes. Where was the bit about the fruit? "And the other to the door of a cage. When he nods off for the music, his hand will fall and —"
Wouldn't lulling the king to sleep be a good thing? Why did he pick a story he's last heard maybe thirty years ago?
"Well, that's not important. The string doesn't work either, but it does startle our hero awake. Enough to spot it flying off in the direction of a rival kingdom."
no subject
Six isn't sure if there's meant to be a point to this story. Sometimes she has heard tell of stories where there is some kind of moral or some message to be learned and adapted - not from her father, nor her absent mother, but from some of the women who washed clothes by the rivers and the soldiers who fought at her side.
Slowly, she leans forward to stroke down and along her steed's head, gentle and soft as she rubs at it's flank. At least this she can survive; riding is second nature.
"Even with the prince's careful... Plans."