01-15-2009, 11:49 AM
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White table made by James!
http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c73/p ... hell-1.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; padding-bottom: 150px; background-position: center bottom; background-color: rgb(224, 226, 223);">Oberon's Spring
Word count: 421
Fishing. So, she hadn't really cared about it. But after the encounter with Slay and her talk of this human fishing technique, attempting to spur his interest in the human knowledge, she had managed to spur her own instead. So, she had returned to the library yet another time, found the books that she had been looking for, and gone out to find suitable material. A hare had become the string that she needed, and now she was straightening quite a big and long stick to make this "fishing pole". There was some sort of mechanism attached to it, but none of the books described how to make them (or the other parts for that matter, but she did have eyes after all). They described it's function, however, and though it looked very complex from what she saw, she was certain she could make a simpler and still working little wheel-thing. Sighing at the stick which was not straight yet, the femme wished she had a knife. A knife would make her life so much easier. As her movements became automatic, Mew's thoughts drifted away. Auntie Hannah had had knives, hadn't she? Several ones, in fact. They'd used it for taking down that elk once. Or had it been a deer? She didn't remember. It had been a large animal anyways, and the knives had been rather effective. Word had it that Hannah was back in the area, perhaps if she found her she could tell her more about how to get a knife? A bitter thought crossed Mew's mind and was mirrored with a scowl on her face, what if she had had a knife when she had so foolishly ventured into Inferni? Asphyxia would have had nothing on her. Her movements with the sharp rock and stick had halted as she delved into memories she'd rather be without. It lasted for a long time in her head, but only seconds in real time, and soon she was at it again, the scowl gone, scraping on the piece of wood over and over to make it increasingly thinner. It was still early, and though the progress was slow she would probably have a crude fishing pole mildly resembling the picture in the book by the time evening settled its darkness over the area. And if it didn't work it wasn't as if she didn't have enough time on her hands to try again. Sighing again, her eyes watched the pole in progress and became glossy, thoughts again conquering her attention.
Word count: 421
Fishing. So, she hadn't really cared about it. But after the encounter with Slay and her talk of this human fishing technique, attempting to spur his interest in the human knowledge, she had managed to spur her own instead. So, she had returned to the library yet another time, found the books that she had been looking for, and gone out to find suitable material. A hare had become the string that she needed, and now she was straightening quite a big and long stick to make this "fishing pole". There was some sort of mechanism attached to it, but none of the books described how to make them (or the other parts for that matter, but she did have eyes after all). They described it's function, however, and though it looked very complex from what she saw, she was certain she could make a simpler and still working little wheel-thing. Sighing at the stick which was not straight yet, the femme wished she had a knife. A knife would make her life so much easier. As her movements became automatic, Mew's thoughts drifted away. Auntie Hannah had had knives, hadn't she? Several ones, in fact. They'd used it for taking down that elk once. Or had it been a deer? She didn't remember. It had been a large animal anyways, and the knives had been rather effective. Word had it that Hannah was back in the area, perhaps if she found her she could tell her more about how to get a knife? A bitter thought crossed Mew's mind and was mirrored with a scowl on her face, what if she had had a knife when she had so foolishly ventured into Inferni? Asphyxia would have had nothing on her. Her movements with the sharp rock and stick had halted as she delved into memories she'd rather be without. It lasted for a long time in her head, but only seconds in real time, and soon she was at it again, the scowl gone, scraping on the piece of wood over and over to make it increasingly thinner. It was still early, and though the progress was slow she would probably have a crude fishing pole mildly resembling the picture in the book by the time evening settled its darkness over the area. And if it didn't work it wasn't as if she didn't have enough time on her hands to try again. Sighing again, her eyes watched the pole in progress and became glossy, thoughts again conquering her attention.
White table made by James!