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The Witnessed Day was called forth from his pseudo-slumber by a shrill, mouthy noise. He stood up, allowing his full figure to take shape, and allowing the robes around him to flow as they were intended to. His eyes struggled to find their vision in the Real, but quickly settled on a shape. He did not approach, he did not wave, he simply stood. How long had he been humming, before this small thing approached him? Had he the physiology to, he would have grunted. Instead, his mind thrummed with agitation, too buried beneath obstructions to be heard. He called forth the memory of the noise sensations, putting them together. He considered the words of the lesser creature before him; had he a mouth, he would practically be chewing them. He did not speak for a few moments, considering what sort of impression it might be best to make.

[color=fff200]“I suppose this to mean we are comrades.”[/color]

Without a mouth, the thought had to be directed to the mind of this lesser being. The Witnessed Day hoped that it was advanced enough to process the thought without it breaking into fragments, or better still, without overloading the poor thing’s mind. The thought itself was seeped in agitation, and the posture of The Witnessed Day was outwardly defensive. His eyes had forgotten the sky, they had forgotten the grass. The only thing within vision was being estimated. It proclaimed itself friend, but it might very well be foe. As per his standard mode of operation, The Witnessed Day erected a series of barriers within himself, on the off-chance that this creature would try to probe his mind. Such an invasion would be a relief – proof of other forms of life worth interacting with – but it would still be most unwelcome.

[color=fff200]“I am The Witnessed Day.”[/color]

At this thought, The Witnessed Day’s defensive posture grew even more so. His eyes widened, to take in more of the surroundings, but still retained their focus on this possible threat. Agitation thrummed loudly within him, and for a moment, seeped into being. His eyes took in the bow, presented to him in a fashion that suggested peace. He did not offer one in return for two reasons: (1) He did not trust this creature. (2) He was this creature’s superior. Instead, he transformed his stance into the ritualistic greeting of the Nebula Shaman: 

[indent][i]A stiffening of the form to present authority, followed by a curt nod in the general direction of the being that is being acknowledged. There is no eye contact made through the course of the gesture, for eye contact is forbidden in most Nebula Shaman rituals. The arms remain crossed at the chest, and in the case of The Witnessed Day, the second pair crosses over the lower torso, as if forming an armor of arms – this was supposed to represent a defense against the world. As his head tilted, beads clashed as if offering a greeting of their own.[/i][/indent]

This was, of all the greetings he knew, the most obscure, but also the friendliest he was willing to dispense on most occasions. It was a sign of acknowledgement, but that was the furthest it went. If this creature before him was well-versed in such ritualistic greetings, but not their cultural connotations, it might take offense. If this creature was well-versed in the greetings, as well as the obscure culture of the Nebula Shaman, it would understand that this is deeply respectful gesture that meant something like, “Keep to yourself, and I will do the same”. If the creature was not versed in either, as was oft the case, then it could be taken in whichever way the observer wanted. At the end of the gesture, drawn out as it was, The Witnessed Day let out a weary hum. This time, it was like a sin wave drawn out to the ends of time. In certain spots, it was accented with restrained frustration. His thoughts did not wander, for a stray thought could lead to a hole in the wall. He was not one for many words (especially because he preferred sensations that lesser forms of life couldn't interpret properly), so this was the most he offered. In his weariness toward the stranger, The Witnessed Day forgot nearly all else, and his legs, unattended, collapsed beneath him. Bitterly, he stood quickly, remembering how to.