as wine is to friends

Loviere Dinabalo · 09-25-2011, 05:49 PM

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Word Count :: 580 Hmmhmm.

"No good, no good, no good." He glared at the broken piece of wood in his hand, golden eyes flying back and forth to look at the curves. Fingers picked at tiny brown creatures crawling upon the wood, squashing them inaudibly. Loviere had picked up this piece for the beautiful color of the grain. The tree it had come from was not of a type that he had worked with before. He had set his knife against the piece to test it and the mites had shown themselves. Infested wood was of no use to him and he threw the piece down the path. Octavian leapt into the lap of the seated carpenter, holding a different piece in his mouth. Loviere took it gratefully, holding the light brown piece up to his eye. The telltale holes that marked infestation were absent, and he fell upon the piece with his knife happily.

The act of whittling helped Loviere to think. With a job, he could focus on one thing. Without a job, his mind often went off into different strings of thought, strings that would not allow him to think deeply on any single thing. He thought now of the way his hands could find their way along the grain of the wood, shaping softly and molding slowly. He rarely knew what a sculpture would be when he began, but let his hands lead the way. It was as if they had a mind of their own, creating the art that he so loved.

He set the tree piece on the ground in front of his feet and reached for the bottle of whiskey he had traded for a few days ago. He took a sip, letting the burn of the alcohol run down his throat. He lowered the bottle to his raccoon friend, who lapped at the drink and subsequently sneezed. Loviere chuckled, placing it back at his side. His light golden eyes rose to look over his surroundings. The structures within Thornburg were crafted just well enough that he could appreciate the work behind them. He had yet to decide on a place to settle. Currently he was considering putting up his own hut somewhere more isolated in the territory. Loviere needed more tools to do so, however, and so he chose to sleep in an empty house in the town, carving at day so that he might be able to trade for building supplies.

He sighed softly as he rounded an edge off the wood. At the moment he would enjoy some companionship. Octavian was often good to talk with, but the wolf was around the raccoon so much that the two had little to share with each other on most days. Such things occurred when you spent your life with another almost always at your side. This was one reason that Loviere did not quite like the idea of settling down with a woman. Would not the same old person get old after a while? He blinked. Surely not, if so many chose to settle down. I'm clearly too young to get it," he thought with a slightly chuckle. He looked fondly upon his work and finally saw what was seeming to shape itself within the wood. A wooden Celtic cross. Loviere knew little of religion, besides his own belief that each thing had a spirit. But he had seen various wolves carrying crucifixes and crosses of the sort, and many would trade for such a thing.

table by the Mentors!

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