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Was it bad that she had a favourite chair by the kitchen fireplace? Probably. Caprica spent a good deal of her evenings down here, and was most often to be found poring over a book lately, legs tucked neatly beneath her in the wide wooden seat. She was an incredibly slow reader, and it had taken her long enough to go through the library and pick out all the best wood-related books - by best, she meant the ones with most pictures. Some were more about building, though, but anything would do to feed her latest craze. This was more than a simple craze though, she was positive. This was going to be her calling - her skill. When she figured out how to get started.
She'd got the wood ready for her new shelves, stacked in the corridor outside her room, and allowing plenty of shameless amusement whenever she heard a passer-by forget they were there and knock into them, especially whenever a firelighter had been lazy or just forgotten to light the torches. It didn't look like the stack of space-encroaching wood was going to move any time soon, as she couldn't even figure out what was the best tools to use to knock the framework she had planned together. Caprica had decided to start small, just trying to get a feel for the material - when it would split, what pressure it could take without warping; the texture and density of it. She'd oiled up a saw and cut herself a small sackful of square blocks. If she couldn't carve or at least shape these, there was no hope. Currently, the blocks lay where she'd dumped them in front of the chair, craft knife abandoned on top of the sack. Caprica was looking into the flames, trying not to gaze in despair at the foundations of her project which was going nowhere fast. To take her mind off it, she'd uncorked the last bottle of wine and poured a drink, telling herself she'd get started after just one glass. If that didn't break down her inhibitions and uncertainty around the wood, nothing would.
Image courtesy of Ant Jackson@Flickr; Table by the Mentors!
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