Word Count: 348
:oo Key's secret side... he likes to make things. Btw, if you want to have him make something out of thread and beads, just ask. Or you can grab something from his already made pile. Hrmm, this is based in his room so far? He has a curtain door... so feel free to barge in and catch the softy culprit 'thread' handed >
Steady hands moved slowly, with precise and practised movements. His craft was something he spoke to others about very rarely; to him it was something personal and more of a hobby than anything else. Working to a specification or to match another’s taste was annoying and not worth any form of payment.
With a gentle tug, he finished the last stitch of the bracelet; it was black, red and brown; woven into a repetitive diagonal pattern, the colours alternating with each row of stitches. The finished result was perfect; all the stitches were roughly the same, none had slipped and it held a fair amount of strength in it, so it would not wear down easily.
Creating small trinkets were a way for him to distract himself and to keep his hands busy, but when he saw the finished result he always felt warm inside; that despite his many faults he was capable of creating beautiful, small things that could bring happiness to others.
Grasping each end he gave the bracelet an experimental tug to make sure it was definitely secure, before he tossed it into the crate across the room. It wasn’t the first time he’d created something to simply throw it away, but who did he have to give such things to? In all honestly, at times he felt ashamed of his craft. He liked others to see him as the strong, questionably reliable and often sarcastic Dasa… that he was. But the simple side to him that found pleasure in creating small things… he didn’t want others to know.
It seemed like a weakness; as if by knowing of his craft someone could use it against him. Ridiculous as it sounded, such thoughts had lead him to keep his less violent abilities hidden.
Leaning back, he stretched out his arms and took a look around his room; it reflected how he saw himself. Simple and practical, with a sick sense of humour to boot. His attention drew back to his desk, his eyes falling upon his many materials as he debated what to create next.
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