Feel the sun dance with the moon

Daemon Argyris · 06-13-2011, 10:14 PM

[html]

8D

Daemon didn't often have an attentive audience. Fion watched him sometimes, certainly, but he was more interested in asking questions than watching Daemon work--what tools did he use? Why did he do what he'd just done? What was that thing there, the one that caused the interesting patterns? Daemon got rather tired of it, really, and so he often banished Fion from the room when doing complicated works such as this--Fion didn't mind, really. It took too much of an artistic touch for the boy; he wanted to create, not craft, and he certainly wasn't much of a carver. He didn't like tooling much. Daemon enjoyed it; it gave him something to focus on and, for a brief moment during the process, he felt like his old self again.

He paused in his tooling for a moment to lean back, just as she commented on its beauty. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, taking her in curiously. Beautiful, she'd said; and perhaps it was. A white horse, an unpainted sky...perhaps those things were beautiful. Maybe to her, he mused; but he liked Viv better, the scarred, abused horse he'd taken care of for almost a year, now. She must surely be content in her life now; there was nothing more beautiful than the relief of pain. Daemon hoped to experience that for himself one day. And that beauty, the relief, was what he hoped to picture here.

After a long moments' thought, he bent over it again, taking up the swivel knife once more and picturing, in his mind's eye, the way the light would hit the horse. Wherever she--he'd decided already that the horse in the leather and the horse grazing by the stream would be one and the same--was in shadow, the pain would be visible. He'd nearly taken the swivel knife to the leather again when another thought occurred to him, and he set it aside again, instead picking up the background tool and his rawhide mallet. It was a careful hand that tapped in the wounds and injuries in the shadows, and he finally sat back, finished, nearly fifteen minutes later. It usually took him much longer, but he'd been sitting there for nearly three hours already--though he wouldn't know that, considering he couldn't keep track of time himself--and he hadn't painted anything yet. He'd have to wait til he got home to do that, if he decided to do it at all.

Vivica, noticing that he had company, clopped her way out of the shadows and came to lip his head again, catching and pulling on one of his ears gently. He swatted at her irritably, but the mare paid him no mind, instead swinging her head around to sniff at his companion. He blinked at her line of sight and turned his own head, having once again forgotten about his company--his work usually took up his whole mind--and he frowned slightly, patting his head absently before he pulled up his hood, finally realizing his naked skin was noticeable. Whaaa? He asked curiously, his ears flattening from the weight of his hood. By now, he was used to that, too.

Image courtesy of Watchsmart@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

Login




Remember me Lost Password?