FRANÇAIS | OPEN

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border-width: 0px; width: 475px; font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]
    He had taken to a bit of leisure after completing some duties that day. Quick patrols that consisted of his jittery frame fast-moving around the border, an attempt to keep his blood flowing rather than most anything else, warding the chill from his youthful bones. It was midday by the time that he had returned to camp, and for once, Aristotle was full of an unbridled energy which flicked at his ears, pulled at his limbs, kept him on his feet. He felt useless lingering around the cabins, so instead, the auburn-tinted feline stuck to the territory, padding along tall grasses and the outlines of willow trees. The silvery sunlight splayed against his shoulders did little to warm him, though it casted a gently golden quality to the chestnut of his fur. Padding along quietly by his lonesome, pale blue-green eyes trained on the snowy ground in front of him, Aristotle's voice rose from his throat in a hushed, honey-like melody.


    "Au clair de la lune: Mon ami Pierrot, prête-moi ta plume, pour écrire un mot. Ma chandelle est morte, je n'ai plus de feu. Ouvre-moi ta porte, pour l'amour de Dieu.


    "Au clair de la lune: Pierrot répondit, Je n'ai pas de plume, je suis dans mon lit. Va chez la voisine, je crois qu'elle y est car dans sa cuisine on bat le briquet.


    "Au clair de la lune: L'aimable Lubin frappe chez la brune. Qui répond soudain, Qui frapp' de la sorte? Il dit à son tour, Ouvrez votre porte, Au Dieu de l'amour.


    "Au clair de la lune: On n'y voit qu'un peu, on chercha la plume, on chercha du feu. En cherchant d' la sorte, je n' sais c' qu'on trouva, mais je sais qu' la porte sur eux se ferma."

    TAGS

    [/fancypost]

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Cherviltea had been sifting by the border, also, combing through his several threads of contemplation, whilst allowing his canary-hued orbs to skim the borderline, carefully keeping watch of its unshifting frame, and the undergrowth curdled by the crippling frost of winter. The crisp chill of the air was gradually cleaved by the tender light of the sun, and whilst indeed, it didn't seem to provide enough warmth to completely depend on.. Perhaps, the sentiment was there, and he found a smile illuminating his countenance, in the meantime.


    It was then, however, that he happened to overhear a tender memory, shifting through the solid air, gradually making his way towards him, and pricking his semi-folded ears. He'd pause, pivoting slightly, the subtle click of his prosthetic fore-limb accompanying this movement. Though, despite the slight breaking of the silence, he sought to know of whom this tune belonged to. It was hushed, riding entirely on a whisper, and spoken in a differing language.. And yet, he found his attention gradually drawn to it, inclined to know, inclined to hear more.


    Aristotle?" Cherviltea blinked, briefly, having been somewhat surprised.. Though now that he applied thought to the discovery, he figured that it seemed only natural for the kind male, to a have a tender, honey-like tone to associate with his congenial personality. "I didn't realise you spoke French." He'd add, a smile traversing his maw as he spoke. "You're a really good singer, too, though you should sing louder next time." The collie would suggest, though simply because he wished to hear more of their melody. "What do the lyrics mean?" He'd eventually inquire, curiosity traipsing his countenance.


    TAGS 07/12/2016

    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=transparent; width: 350px;][justify][size=7pt]★ ★ ★[size=3pt]--[/size][/size] [size=9pt] Jin-ri was exploring, even after the tour so kindly given to her by Aristotle. She craved alone time, even though the entire point of her coming to this clan was to finally interact with those outside of her small family. But here she was, idly pawing at the frosted ground before a gentle voice reached her ears.


    It was light, carrying with the wind in such a way that she found alluring. She couldn't make out the words, but they had an unfamiliar tone, a language she had not yet discovered for herself. Naturally she was drawn towards the sound, softly padding along until both ChervilTea and Aristotle came into her view.


    Taking in a deep breath to steady herself, the small feline would make her way over, pausing a few feet away. "W-Was that you?" It obviously was, Jin. Her voice trembled slightly and she'd force her fur to lay flat. What if he was mad they'd found him? Were they not supposed to know he sang?


    [/size]
    [size=1pt]extraspace[/size]
    [hr]

    tags 12/11/16

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=;border:0px;width:450px;text-align:justify;font-size:8pt]
    Kate came over and stood beside her adopted father, keeping close to him as she listened to Aristotle with a confused look in her eyes. It seemed like a lot of people living here now could speak French. She however, only knew her first language; English-- and she constantly beat herself up for being unable to get past her own lisp. So while the song... sounded pretty, she had no idea what any of it meant. When Vader ask the question implying he could also speak another language, it had caught the puppy off guard. It certainly hadn't been something she'd been expecting. "... You sthpeak another language too, Vader?"
    [hr]

    info — updated 12/10

    info — updated 12/10

    [align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0;width:420px;line-height:120%;text-align:justify;font-size:12px;font-family:arial;]Apparently they all spoke another language. All she was capable of was English and the occasional Australian slang, though it had receded from her vocabulary slightly. Albeit feeling slightly inferior to all those around her, Valaena's kind-hearted nature and sheer curiosity brought her over. As the aussie padded closer, her ears drank in the wondrous sound of Aristotle's voice.


    [color=#99ccff]"Woah, you are really good at that," she voiced without entirely thinking about it, and if she had, she probably wouldn't have said it. Amazement dancing about her crystalline eyes, the shepherd settled herself near Cherviltea and fixated her eyes on Aristotle. A member she hadn't quite gotten to know yet, and he wasn't the only one.

    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border-width: 0px; width: 475px; font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]
    By the song's end, Aristotle's tone gave way to a fluttering lift that ceased his singing, conveniently stopping his accented tilt by the time that an impressed Cherviltea appeared. The clicking of the collie's plant-covered prosthetic told tale of his arrival before it occurred, prompting the scruffy youth to halt his movements, pale gaze flickering up to meet the pleasant expression brightening the canine's features. Neutral expression plummeting, his eyes widened slightly, surprise sprinkling his pointed features as his own name was uttered, praised generously. Instead of responding to the reflection on the language which he spoke, his mind slammed its breaks at the mention of his abilities. His face flushed. Drowning in a heated blush which was painted under his eyes, dusting his cheeks, and his lips twitched in a way not negative, but mostly shocked. "O-Oh, ah, thank you, sir. That's very kind of you." Aristotle responded, quite composed for appearing so flustered. A joyed smile small enough to be considered polite stretched out on his maw like the mid-morning sun's light bathing the land in silver.


    If he seemed taken aback by the fact that one person praised him, he was all the more unbelieving when Jin-Ri, another, had asked more of him. It was a more subtle appriciation which he expressed, his eyes shining as he looked over at the smaller cat, smile bright on his face. "It was." he said, sheepishly. Back to Cherviltea, after presenting a nod toward Vader as well as a quiet "indeed," he contemplated the answer and spoke a response quickly. "It's an old lullaby that used to be sung to me, about friends au clair de la lune - under the moon." there were some faint memories flooding warmth around the soft French songs which he'd once fallen asleep to, so long ago. He remembered them quite well, in fact.


    "Ah-" Oh, dear, there was someone else there to praise him. It was so strange - he wasn't used to kind words involving himself. He felt quite undeserving, but he appreciated those words spoken in his direction, basking in them in the back of his mind. "Thank you!" Aristotle breathed, the corners of his mouth stretching upward.

    TAGS

    [/fancypost]