TRALALALALALALAL
Strel gave a thoughtful look to the leader of the pack of artists and art enthusiasts. "Where were you guys when I came to this place?" he said, jokingly. If they had existed at the time, would he have really gone for the pack of artists or for the kingdom akin to Europe's courts? Nah, with artists, he would have been competing with others for his ranks, for his trade, and that just did not sit well at all with him. As much as Strel liked his profession, he did not enjoy competition for clients and then the whole deal with stealing ideas and inspiration.. eh, it was beyond not worth the risk and hazards. His muse could not handle such pitfalls. In Cours des Miracles, at least, no one else was like him, no one was nearly as obnoxious and artistic as him. Well, okay, maybe some where, but no where in the same category as him.
"But any amount is a good start, I think. Every pack starts with just a few people. So long as you push through winter, right?" he countered, trying to shed some light on a gem in the situation. "Besides, if you guys make it through, you'll have a base and then tons of potential. But anyway..," he tapered off, taking the cloth in arm and protruding it to the leader of the artists. It was good silk, it really was. And Strel was losing out by handing an entire bolt of it. Granted, he took a few lengths of it but it would run out so much faster than if he had the entire bolt of it. Whoever got it had better be so damn grateful for it. If the redhead heard otherwise, he would so ignore trespassing tradition and strangle them with the silk.
Strel shook his hand, and looked down into his arms. "No, it's a gift, not a trade. You probably have no real stores of creative material and I thought, considering I've been established for almost two years, I'd help out whoever in your pack can sew or use it." He knew it was being generous and that was why the look on his face was so smug, but he hoped that the other man did not take it as horrible hubris. "Besides, I can always find more and I have my own delightfully large storage of several bolts, among things." But.. he was still curious. "And if anyone needs help with tailoring, you can send them to me, I'll be happy to help, to a point, of course."
Fingering the edge of the cloth, Strel looked straight at Shawchert, eyes looking curiously at him, at the other man's dyed pelt. It was red, much like his. "So, how is your new pack? How is it? Are you all faring well. I know some of our people came your way here. Are they well?" He hoped they were, and they were happy. Some of them had not really belonged in Cours, and if they were better off here, all the power to them.
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