06-03-2011, 06:05 PM
[html] It was quiet and peaceful up here. The tall, tall trees and the thin, small streams made it easy for Daemon to lose himself in his work. Or perhaps that was because Fion was gone. Daemon had come up this way alone, with only Vivica for company--who was god knows where, now, certainly not still attached to the wagon...right?--and only his leathers to work with. He'd noticed, the other day, that the Boy needed boots. Not really work boots; Daemon didn't wear them, anyway. But shoes. Shoes of some kind would be useful, if he was always out and about, running who-knew-where and doing who-knows-what. Daemon remembered this from his time with Lucivar; he wanted to give a gift. And the best element of a gift was the surprise. So he'd come up here, to make boots. Alone. And he'd told no one where he was going, or what he was doing; no one except Fion, who'd only told him to enjoy making the boots, and given him the measurements he'd needed.
Come to think of it, Daemon was not all that sure Fion would be surprised. He supposed that happened when you pulled someone off their feet and wrapped their paws in rope. Tinkering lightly with his hole puncher, Daemon half-seriously considered being cheap and simply lacing them together with leather straps. He didn't have a lot of thread, and it was hard to come by; the Boy almost never remembered to get it. The straps would be so much easier...it was so much less painful to tie knots...With a sigh and a shake of his head, Daemon got up and went to the back of the wagon, searching the trunks and wooden boxes located there for his spools and thread.
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