Burning Like Wildfire

Daemon Argyris · 06-17-2011, 06:12 PM

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Psh, it's yours that inspires me.

Daemon didn't think about how dark it must be inside to other people, nor how cold; he was all wrapped up in his heavy cloak, nice and warm, though with the heat outside it was also warmer than his wagon might have been. He reminded himself he still needed to look for the stables--though he should have realized they were right next door--and, as she made to look for herself, taking the belts, moved off to light a few of the candles he and Fion had set out down here. They let out a soft glow, still without there being any actual open flame--Daemon couldn't really handle fire, today, he thought; there was no need to subject himself to it for a little light. The soft glow illuminated things just fine, anyway, or so Daemon thought, but then, he was as used to the dark as she was to the light.

He wandered back over just as she made her selection, his grin blossoming across his face, snaggle-toothed and crooked though it was. He was handed the belts once more, and he bobbed his head a bit and set them back down on the table, moving to release his cloak from his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. He set about demonstrating how to put the belt on, and then plucked a few of the loose pouches from the table and showed her how to put them in, should she ever want them; it was a versatile thing, after all. Then he took it off and pulled the pouches away gently, setting them aside and folding the belt up. He made to offer the dyes and toolings, as there were on some of the other belts, but he was distracted as she laid out her side of the bargain, three axes including the one he'd admired before and two knives, one that was short and made of stone--for plants, he realized, his eyes taking it all in and some part of his mind finding the practicality of their uses--and another, one he could use for skinning when he needed to--as well as to cut the leather when it needed to be shaped. He would by no means take all of this from her for one belt, but he did lift both knives from the lay-out, and, after some thought, the axe larger than he'd been admiring--for hunting, he thought, though its sharp edge could also be useful in a fight, should he ever be in one. That was for Fion; he did the hunting for both of them, since Daemon was useless when it came down to it, and Fion had often complained that having a weapon would be easier.

He gathered the three he'd chosen, eying the pickaxe as well, but no; three weapons--three tools--was quite enough for a belt. He walked over to set them beside the other tools he kept down here, and then picked up several jars of dye, as well as a swivel knife that had long since rusted--one he didn't use, but worked well for demonstrations. He went back over to her, and gestured between her new belt and the dyes, as well as holding up the old tool and making carving motions in the air. Then his head cocked to the side, his eyes focused entirely on her as he awaited an answer. The dye jars were labelled, of course by Fion, though Daemon knew what colors they were by heart; cherry-wood, deep brown, and a color like black. He thought about going and getting his stamps, as well, so that he might show her what sorts of things he could put on the plain leather for her--feathers, scales, textures...there was so much. He waited to see if she wanted dye and understood his gesture, first, before he dumped all her options on her.

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

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