She'd managed a few days with a great rend in the lining of her home-made leather coat, but this morning when she'd donned the garment and stuck her arm through the hole instead of the sleeve for the umpteenth time, Caspa decided it was time to fix the mild irritation once and for all. The afternoon was already drawing on when she finally got around to the task. Making her way to her top-floor room she pulled out her leather-sewing roll, a piece of fabric with heavy-duty needles stuck through it, wrapped around two awls, beeswax, punchers, knives and a little mallet. Just a few moments of working on the floor had her gritting her teeth, frustrated at the lack of the workbench from home. But of course, she couldn't have carried that with her. She would just have to find a replacement of some kind to work on.
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there are so many ways to wear
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05-25-2011, 05:10 PM
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05-26-2011, 02:06 AM
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300+
screw ipods and lack of spellcheck :/
The door was locked behind him as the redheaded man sat at his table. The fading light of day pouring into his room from the glass window, creating squares of dusty light on the edge of the large wooden table, and on the back wall. Strel ignored the brightness in his eyes, focusing solely on the rather small cloth in his hands. The needle he held was dwarfed by his fingers and he still worked with such a deftness and grace, one would mistake his stitches for a small, elegant lady. He finished his stitching and knotted the thread. A quick snip with his teeth and he had a cloth band in his grasp. Promptly, he unhooked the three pairs of clothing hooks and attached the embroidered band around his wrist. Finally he saw the sun setting, and stretched. It was time for a drink and a romp, if Noss was home yet, of course.
Strel picked up his bangle off the nail near the door, jamming it onto his other wrist. It got in the way more often than note, so it was easier to just keep the darn thing off in his studio. The moment he had left the studio/dining room, did the redheaded man pause with his cord door tie in his hands. Something clanked in the kitchen, and he did not recognize the scent. Tying quickly, the man slipped into the kitchen and found... No one. Strel furrowed his brow, scratching at the back of his head, disturbing the loose horse tail he had put his long hair into. "Who wa-" he began, idly staring out he kitchen door. But he was interrupted by sounds from the parlor. Who was it? .simplesea .ooc {font-style:italic;text-align:center; padding:0px 20px;color:#9aada6; } .simplesea p {padding:3px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:20px;} .simplesea b {color:#d0c7bd; letter-spacing:-.2px; text-shadow:#a5aa9e 0em .1em 0em; } .simplesea .line1 {width:250px; border-bottom:1px dotted #a5aa9e ; margin:0 auto 3px auto;} .simplesea {background-color:#867c68; background-image: url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... each-2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #a2aea6; font-family: tahoma, serif; font-size:11px; color:#bdd0c9; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:12px; width:420px; text-align:justify; } .simplesea-border {width:422px; border:1px solid #bdd0c9; margin:0 auto;} .simplesea .inner {margin:60px 33px 10px 33px; padding:10px; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... inner2.png); border:1px solid #9aada6; border-radius:10px;-moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px;} </style> [/html]
05-26-2011, 06:11 AM
your words are pretties enough already!
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06-02-2011, 10:23 PM
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300+
liesssssssss Oh, was that all she was doing? The redheaded man nodded as though he fully understand. The tools arrayed on the table were definitely not for his trade; he was familiar with them but not practiced in them at all. They were big and bulky compared to the tools of his trade. Or were his things just too delicate in comparison? Maybe it was his imagination. Or perhaps there was just no way to compare the two of them. Strel covered his grin with a hand, as subtly as he could, as he watched the woman try to pull the tool out of the wooden table. Well, at least he never had a problem trying to pull needles out of his dining table. Though he did have a problem when he first settled here; he had managed to get a needle stuck in the plaster wall, and probably deep into the wood - the needle had been a huge, thick burlap needle. Now he just used it a means to put bobbins on the wall while he used them. Thankfully it had been the wall with the window. Still, it had been more practical to use a very thin pole he had found. Point was, his tools were not like her's. "Oh, no worries. Take your time pulling that thing from your material," he jibed, shrugging his shoulders. He sauntered into the room while the woman's back was turned, though she managed to pull her stuff together, take a drink, and then rise to face him before he could get to the couch. Sighing, he draped himself on the couch regardless, arm over the back and the other resting beside him. "Since it's a communal room, I'm sure no one will care if you leave holes in the old furniture. By all means, put some in the walls; we can hide treasure in the gaping holes." Strelein eyed the bottle she had taken a drink from. "What's that?" .simplesea .ooc {font-style:italic;text-align:center; padding:0px 20px;color:#9aada6; } .simplesea p {padding:3px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:20px;} .simplesea b {color:#d0c7bd; letter-spacing:-.2px; text-shadow:#a5aa9e 0em .1em 0em; } .simplesea .line1 {width:250px; border-bottom:1px dotted #a5aa9e ; margin:0 auto 3px auto;} .simplesea {background-color:#867c68; background-image: url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... each-2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #a2aea6; font-family: tahoma, serif; font-size:11px; color:#bdd0c9; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:12px; width:420px; text-align:justify; } .simplesea-border {width:422px; border:1px solid #bdd0c9; margin:0 auto;} .simplesea .inner {margin:60px 33px 10px 33px; padding:10px; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... inner2.png); border:1px solid #9aada6; border-radius:10px;-moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px;} </style> [/html]
06-05-2011, 09:29 AM
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06-19-2011, 03:58 PM
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I am rather awful at timely responses when my sleeping patterns get thrown off :/ so I'm sorry Dx
"Whiskey, eh?" he mimicked, eying the bottle with interest. He was partial to darker drinks, but his favorite was rum. Maybe it was just because he had first drunk with a pirate and that was what pirates drink. But vodka was not far behind, and that too came from the same man who introduced the drinking. And wine was nice now and then, especially the fruitier bouquets; the dry stuff was a little too dry for him. But for the redhead, it was always a mixed bag with wine as he could not read. Strel had learned to read very few things. He knew his name, the names of several alcoholic drinks, tools of his trade, and other small things, though the differences between wines was still complicated. He took the drink from her hand, nodding at her in thanks as he sniffed at the bottle. It was nice, strong, and so he approved. Strel took a quick drink and then shook his head in satisfaction. "Good stuff. Good stuff." He offered the bottle back to the woman, knowing better than to hog the entire thing. "I'm Strel, I'm the resident tailor," he said, introducing himself. He had almost said "fairy" instead of tailor, though that seemed rather inappropriate for a meeting. Only a lot. Strel rolled his eyes at the woman, grinning at her. "I dunno, we should find out. I meant it kind of in the more not literal sense." .simplesea .ooc {font-style:italic;text-align:center; padding:0px 20px;color:#9aada6; } .simplesea p {padding:3px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:20px;} .simplesea b {color:#d0c7bd; letter-spacing:-.2px; text-shadow:#a5aa9e 0em .1em 0em; } .simplesea .line1 {width:250px; border-bottom:1px dotted #a5aa9e ; margin:0 auto 3px auto;} .simplesea {background-color:#867c68; background-image: url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... each-2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #a2aea6; font-family: tahoma, serif; font-size:11px; color:#bdd0c9; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:12px; width:420px; text-align:justify; } .simplesea-border {width:422px; border:1px solid #bdd0c9; margin:0 auto;} .simplesea .inner {margin:60px 33px 10px 33px; padding:10px; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... inner2.png); border:1px solid #9aada6; border-radius:10px;-moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px;} </style> [/html]
06-25-2011, 05:28 AM
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06-25-2011, 03:48 PM
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000+
<3 The redhead winced at her first comment, though it was all in good, alcohol tainted, fun. "Surprised if we had treasure? Now that hurts. Clearly you've never looked into my closet or into my studio yet." It was a trove of nothing but clothes, cloth, and accessories. Though, honestly, it was nothing but a treasure to him. Caspa might not agree with it, but it was a treasure none the less. That and she probably did not see that one dresser drawer of his filled with bottles of booze found in Halifax and Lunenburg. And even a bottle of luperci design. That was definitely a treasure in this time now, with humans no longer producing.. anything. But Strel did roll his eyes at the woman. It was rather corny, to say the least. And plenty of the members were no treasures. He had heard of one of them causing problems for others in the pack and out, but that was not worth mentioning. "Treasures? Sure. Some of us." He was rather wistful about it, too. He knew only about half, maybe, and the rest he heard of, knew their names vaguely, but had no face to them. "Newcomer? Never would have guessed," he quipped sarcastically, smiling at the new woman as she took a large drink from the bottle. "Don't hog that. Gimme some. Or if you'd rather I provide my own, we can go up to my room and grab one from my stocks." It would have been seen as a flirtation and an obvious invitation to his bed, but there would be no bed warming here. Not by Caspa at least. .strel-txt {font-family: garamond, georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; word-spacing:1px; margin:0px 25px auto; padding:0px 0px 0px 0px; margin:5px auto; width:500px; text-align:justify;} .strel-txt .inner {background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GEuNG.png); background-position:center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border: 0px solid #000; padding 0px 0px 10px 0px; } .strel-txt .ooc {font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto; width:500px;} .strel-txt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding: 0px 5px 0px 0px;} .strel-txt b {letter-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:-.05em;text-shadow:#fff 0px 0px 1px;font-family:verdana, garamond, serif; font-size:12px;} .strel-txt .line {width:150px; border-bottom:1px dashed #000; margin:0 auto;} </style> [/html]
06-26-2011, 06:58 PM
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06-26-2011, 10:14 PM
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Strel had no idea what he had done, though he knew quite well how suggestive his suggestion had been in the first place. But he shrugged it off; the woman would figure it out soon enough. Besides, his room was a treasure trove besides. The booze was just the tip of the iceberg, and the clothes merely the bulk beneath the sea. But the mural painted on his walls was what sunk the Titanic. Mati had painted it for him so long ago, a marvel of post human canine talent. It was nothing short of a work of art and he was proud to have it in his room, decorating his walls in a style fitting him. It was bright, and vibrant, and it was the crowning jewel. And fortunately, the heart of the ocean was not going to be sinking any time soon. Rising, the tailor smiled at the woman as he took the offered bottle from her hand. Taking a drink of it, he led her to the lobby stairs that would take them upstairs. They passed by the doors to his studio, the former dining room. "That's my studio. If you ever need something, and it's day, I'm usually in there." He jutted his bangled hand at the doors, ignoring it as it was shut and tied with rope. He really would need to ask someone who could read and write to get him a hanging notice that said off limits. The man lead the way to his room, ignoring the creaking of the old floorboards beneath his feet. The door gave way under his hand and a light nudge, and the two of them were inside his brightly lit room. The curtains of winter, heavy and dark, were changed up to brighter, sheer yellow ones to let in more sunlight. Most of it fell on the wall painted vividly. Bee lining for the dresser, the redheaded man placed the drink atop, and then roughly pulled open the bottom drawer. "Alright, there we go. Take a look, see what treasures I've got. Mostly vodka, some Caribbean rum, got it traded special. Uhm.." Strel twisted a bottle around. "I think this is whiskey?" It said so on the label, but he was not terribly sure. .strel-txt {font-family: garamond, georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; word-spacing:1px; margin:0px 25px auto; padding:0px 0px 0px 0px; margin:5px auto; width:500px; text-align:justify;} .strel-txt .inner {background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GEuNG.png); background-position:center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border: 0px solid #000; padding 0px 0px 10px 0px; } .strel-txt .ooc {font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto; width:500px;} .strel-txt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding: 0px 5px 0px 0px;} .strel-txt b {letter-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:-.05em;text-shadow:#fff 0px 0px 1px;font-family:verdana, garamond, serif; font-size:12px;} .strel-txt .line {width:150px; border-bottom:1px dashed #000; margin:0 auto;} </style> [/html] |