the seasons don't fear the reaper.

[Barrett]

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There was no need to reinvent the wheel. While electrical generation (and all that went with it) eluded their race, the luperci still benefited from the technologies pioneered by early men. Techniques like glassblowing had been developed before the humans' Christ walked the earth; metalworking predated recorded history. Just as soon as they mastered the dexterity their new bodies afforded them—along with the faculties to decipher old texts—hundreds of doors flung themselves open. Distillation, domestication, agriculture, and navigation; aqueducts, incendiaries, masonry and geometry—all of these things anteceded even the Renaissance by a considerable margin.

Acquiring the proper equipment and materials could be another story. Barrett's paternal grandmother had been blessed with the good fortune of finding a suitable furnace twice in her lifetime. One had been consumed in the blaze which levelled the Concrete Jungle, Storm, Jaded Shadows, and all of the other old packs. The other was back near Woodstock. Landlocked in interior New Brunswick, the bobble had been forged from the recycled remains of shattered glass found littering old human streets instead of fresh sand. “Well, he had a little help,” he laughed, “but the design was his and he coloured the glass that went into the 'watery' part, made the rough shape.” The simulated bubbles had required Matrix's more practised skill.

“Anyway, he'll be glad to hear you like it. I'll be writing them both in a few weeks, maybe a month.” Apache would send his falcon as a carrier; fortunately, his family had realistic expectations about how soon he'd get around to penning the letter. Barrett truly did not like to write; it required a lot of slow, deliberate actions that made his hand cramp up by the end of a single sentence. Happy to change gears both mentally and conversationally, he rooted around for the final gift. “And uh, this is from mom,” he concluded, passing over the second bundle. This one was bulkier, but lighter, less solid. Unwrapped, it would unravel into a series of cords fitted with seashells of various sizes: a windchime. These shells were purchased from a trader in Freetown, along with the driftwood to which they were strung.

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ooc ending - and they talked about stuff and got caught up and yay~