Distinctions of curiousity

Shawchert Menue · 09-30-2010, 05:20 AM

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OOC here!

Finding nothing of interest in the front room, he started towards the back until he spotted a case, one much like his flutes case which was packed neatly in his shoulder bag he carried a long with him at all times, except this was much bigger, turning a curious head, he moved to the strangely shaped case, knowing what it was just but the odd shape it produced, but he wanted to know what it looked like, and most of all what it sounded like. Everything else was forgotten, his fear of the tall buildings, his alertness all gone with one look of the black case. He wasted no time in opening the thing, where it held what looked like a pristine guitar. He couldn’t help but be at awe at its preservation. He picked it up, he could hear the hallow wood resist in his paws as he sat it on a knee, which was now propped up on a counter, using a claw he lightly swept his fingers over the tightened strings and out came a sound, one that vibrated throughout the old shop and out into the street. His ears thought of it as aweful, it surely needed a tuning, and as he’d watched his own mother tune her guitar, he knew how to do at least that. She never taught him the guitar, and Shaw never knew why, but he wasn’t disappointed, although he did want to just up and play something on it. He turn the small knobs at the end of the guitar, as he plucked one string at a time, making it so that it sounded right in his ears. He strummed it every so often, and soon heard what the guitar was made for a beautiful tone that filld his ears, and soon he started lightly moving his hands up and down on the strings making a soft noise that could easily be heard. It was music, and that’s what he loved. If only he knew more wolves that were more wolves who did appreciate the sounds that came from the the instruments humans made a long long time ago. He’d met one who sparked his interest in a formation of a pack, but for now that’s all it was. He strummed it again, not knowing exactly how to play the instrument, just enjoying the sounds that came from it, missing his mother all the more, the only thing that kept him sane all the time he’d been in his old pack. Now she kept him sane through the music he played on his flute, but the guitar was different. He didn’t feel any special bond to the item itself, just the sound it made.

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