tear it down to build something new up

Micah Sunrise Lykoi · 03-12-2011, 10:21 PM

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Private for Cotl and Ouiji! A general harbor in Yarmouth.

Across his chest was a leather strap that attached to some sort of worn messenger bag that flapped and flopped against his hip as he walked. It was bright, attractive, coated in colors and designs — some purposeful, some accidental. The strap on his chest interrupted his sweatshirt, wrinkling it uncomfortably against his chest and stomach, and constantly did the black-and-white peppered yearling pause to correct it, smooth the wrinkles perfectly and situate the bag back onto his ass, where it belonged and didn't intrude on his stride. After a few minutes the bag, clanging and clinking from the materials within, would slide back to his front and bother him again, and so the system repeated, over and over and over again. He knew it was a vicious cycle, and yet he didn't mind pausing to fix it every time; he wouldn't have had it any other way.

Micah strolled about among the harbor, listening to the irritated calls of the gulls as he sauntered among them, interrupting their head-in-their-winged naps and casting them into the sky. It was amusing, really, and every chance he got he burst into them, yelping, waving his arms, and surely the birds hated him for it. No matter. He could not resist, and he would not have it any other way.

He selected his canvas: A stray, small vessel bobbing in the waves, surely anchored to the depths of the ocean rather than tethered at a post. It was within reach, unlike many others that floated about aimlessly without a proper place for him to stand, and so the choice was made. Up onto a post at the end of the dock he climbed, humming to himself, peppered tail swinging merrily in sync with the bob of the ship. Micah wiped at the surface with his palm, clearing off some of the grime and dirt and salt, and into his back he dug only to whip out what appeared to be a can of spraypaint, the bottle so rusted its color was primarily a mystery. For a moment he sat down on the post, reading his canvas, perhaps seeing the image within the red steel, and then he propped himself up on his feet, hunched over, tied his red scarf around his muzzle and into a knot over his messy ponytail, and began his work. The sound was a pleasant, relieving noise, and he hummed to himself as he worked, arm swinging every which way, forming the black outline of what appeared to be a coyote's head.

Ouija D'Angelo · 03-13-2011, 06:41 PM

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OOC here: Table & Coding © Fae; 509 words

With spring just on the horizon he could get ready and gather up things to color himself with again. He really missed being an assortment of colors. But at least he was settled somewhere and he could stock up before the season was out. Though throughout the winter he had been making due with the blood of his kills as well as dirt. Just anything to add some bit of color and break up the monotony. Nature got to be the multiple colors that he was not. Such was his reason behind doing what he did.

He had no reason to be out where he was except just ti simply wander around somewhere that he had yet to travel. Who knew, he just might be able to find something that he could use. Or at least something interesting. He had his satchel slung across his back as he walked down the street, peering into the shop fronts. He figured that he could bring back something for Addison while he was out. After all she had suffered a great loss. And himself as well since they had been said to be his pups. He had fretted something like this happening and it had. He had even spoken of it.

He pushed such thoughts from his mind. No, he didn't want to think of such things. Instead he wanted to find something for Addison in order to try and take her mind off of it. but honestly he had no idea what she even liked or what she would want. He really needed to find out more about her. Or at least things that he could pick up for her while he was out, whenever he went out. He frowned a bit as he stared past a grimy window to try and get a peek at what was beyond but not having much luck at it.

He had been about to enter the place to look around when he caught a faint noise from on further down. And ear twitched and swiveled atop his head as he tried to pick up on just where it had come from. Slowly he moved in the direction that he thought it had been and glanced about, staying quiet so that he could listen closely. Eventually he found the source perched curiously upon a post at the end of the dock. "Hey there. What's going on?" He called out as he walked over to the other to see just what he was doing. He wasn't sure what it was that the other had in his hand but it was placing color against the side of the vessel. If he had known about such things then he could have kept his color all winter long. That would have been really pleasant but it was too late for that now. "So, what is that? Know where I can get some?" It certainly would be nice to have it as a back up just in case though he still planned on collecting plants to dye himself with still.

Micah Sunrise Lykoi · 03-27-2011, 03:27 AM

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I guess I'm just gonna reply even though J hasn't yet...

The boy with the pepper pelt had thought he'd journeyed a little farther than most usually would; not in the least had he been expecting company, and yet he found himself hearing the voice of another even over the consistence hiss of the spray paint unleashed from the bottle in his hand. His ear twitched at the sound; ordinarily the boy might have shied away expecting some sort of scolding for trespassing or whatnot, but when it came to his artwork, well... Nothing else truly excited him than to talk about what he did best or what made him unique. Those of Juniper Peace would probably be proud of him and his means of expressing himself — if they could, you know, get over the fact that he was Razekiel's son and looked like him.

Turning, — and having to wave his arms briefly to keep his balance hunched over atop the little post lining the dock — Micah turned his chocolate eyes down to the rather... brightly-colored stranger and, judging by the lines of hues in his pelt, the Lykoi boy immediately decided they were of no particular threat to his actions. "Spray painting," he answered at first, and when queried on the substance's whereabouts, the boy simply shrugged. "You just have to look, I guess. They're really hard to find, especially any that still work or don't explode."

Cotl · 04-12-2011, 01:14 AM

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OOC: Yuh,I had to be a jerk and do this table, sorry guys >.> Also, I'm completely sorry for the wait this thread kept slipping my mind DD: +5
Punch your lights out, hit the pavement
that's what i call entertainment
Causing problems makes ya' famous
Cotl had been out quite far from his home in Inferni, him leaving home about three days ago, with supplies and Maschine. He'd gotten himself some bags to put on the sides of his steed so he could carry his belongings easier along with him on his adventures. At some point in time he did think about bringing the ghostly reindeer that Izaak had gracefully dumped on them with his death and all. He thought hard about it, but then thought that Sascha might flip his shit if he saw that Blitzen was gone for three days straight (since Cotl was oh-so graceful about not telling anyone where he was going or how long he'd be gone) so he didn't bring the extra mouth to feed and he had just gone with bringing his favorite steed, Maschine. He had ridden for three days, of course taking the needed breaks for himself and his steed to just simply rest and maybe smoke a bowl or something because for some reason he would bring his gas mask with him and his jar of marijuana that was only about a quarter full since he hadn't been able to harvest any crops lately that were growing in the greenhouse in Inferni, they weren't mature enough yet. Cotl had most of his supplies on him, including a few of his spray-paints and his inks and tattoo gun. He also had his piercing needles, you know just in case he came across some travelers willing to trade. That's what Cotl learned about the land of Nova Scotia. They loved to trade here.

Cotl's adventure had eventually led him to Yarmouth, a town he had never visited, simply because he never had a reason to really go all the way south like he was doing now. He was only doing this because he was having an adventurous spirit, and he was getting stir crazy within the clan-lands all the time. Maschine had wanted to head towards Aniwaya, Cotl did notice at some point, and he too yearned to go see his friend, Ember, but something did tell him that she was not around anymore. She would not simply let this much time go past without contact, and Cotl did know this, and he could only hope that she was well...Wherever she was. The wolf woman had a soft spot on Cotl's heart, no matter how much he hated her kind right now, Ember had always been different. A weird different, one that not even Cotl understood.

Cotl and Maschine would be passing by a few individuals before Cotl had caught the strong scent of the spray paint that he knew oh so well. Cotl cocked his head and looked towards the dirt covered man and then the spray painter and his speckled pelt. Ist rare to see anoder spray painter.. the man loosely commented before his shoulder would twitch. He remained mounted on his steed's back and looked between the two. Vas ist du-NYEH- paintings? Cotl asked, slightly curious as to what the beginning lines could be.

Sprechen. Denken hart. Wandernd.

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Ouija D'Angelo · 04-30-2011, 05:07 PM

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He hadn't meant to upset the other's balance. He had only been curious as to what was going on. He had never seen such a thing before. He had never even heard of the substance that was being used before it. But it wasn't like he was educated in human things and findings either. He only used the rare few things left over from that civilization. Only the things that he was unable to craft himself. That tended to only be his metal knives and the jars he had. Pretty much the other stuff he made himself or else just found in nature. He was quite good about recycling and reusing whatever it was that he found and used. He hardly ever tossed anything else. Instead he preferred to find some other use for it.

"And the colors just come out or did you put them in yourself?" His question showed just how much knowledge about such things that he had. "How do you make it change colors?" He really had no idea how any of it worked. He automatically assumed that there were multiple colors contained within a single canister. But before he could focus and come up with yet another question to ask someone else had turned up on the scene. He turned his head to glance at the other. The shorter male seemed to know exactly what was going on. Was he like the only canine anywhere to not know what was going on? To not have a clue about any of this.

He ended up glancing between the other two males before coming up with yet another question of his own. "Do you think that will color me?" What could he say? He was addicted to color in whatever way that he could possibly get it. He didn't care what color it was. He only wanted to break up the monotony of his coat. "Could you color me?" He rephrased his previous question a tad bit. He was quite curious about how it worked and didn't mind offering himself up for experiment. He would let the other do whatever he had to him just so that he could get the up close and personal, first hand experience.

Micah Sunrise Lykoi · 05-13-2011, 01:19 PM

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ohhay, there's replies here! Ten points to Lin for not paying attention. XD

He had not known his artistic expression as means for so much interest and questioning, but he supposed it was only to be expected; the boy that approached him first held wisps of color in his otherwise pure white fur, but such hues were clearly fading away from both time and a rapidly shedding winter coat. "Um... I find them like this," he tried to answer. "I don't make them change... I have different cans of color." He shifted a little to sit down on the pole, then fished through his bag and presented to Ouija a few more cans, each label a different brilliant hue. Micah smiled sheepishly, modest to be of such interest to another, sticking to his usual tendency of talkativeness when it came to art. Outside of his graffiti, the boy was a terribly shaking, nervous thing, but when the paint and colors rose from canvas to conversation, he acted no different than any other.

A tawny male entered their conversation next, remaining atop his stallion as if he hadn't the time to remain and chat. Micah's ears perked, interested in a fellow spray painter, but the boy jumped visibly at the man's brief outburst mid-sentence, though he did not question it. "M-My sister," he replied, somewhat shaken, and glanced briefly at the coyote outline on the ship's wall. The only time his ghost of a sister seemed pleased with him was when he depicted her. He could admit much further before the white male spoke up once more, requesting his own body be a canvas. Micah twitched noticeably at the concept.

It was not that he wouldn't have minded, but was nervous to waste his supplies. "Um," he mumbled, hands beginning to shake, "um, close your eyes." When the white boy did so, Micah shook a can briefly, then painted one long, red streak straight across the boy's eyes and nose and smiled nervously, glancing at Cotl. "I-I think h-he would be better at it than me."

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