[p] el cielo es azul

Caprica D'Angelo · 02-25-2012, 06:49 PM

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It's chemical the way we love. The way we hate it's quite inhuman

Word Count :: 900+ Y me gusta tu!... and I clicked post too early. D:

She was stalling. That was all this ridiculous mission was - one giant ploy to avoid working on the cherry wood she'd gathered at such great effort. Now it lay unused, tripping up passing Anathemans, some of which had even come to her with their grievances about the pile. And still Caprica could not muster up the gusto to get going. It was more lack of knowledge than anything, she knew. If she really understood the things she read in the book, about hammers and nails and bevels and a million other technical terms, she would be able to step effortlessly into the role of carpenter. There was only one way to build understanding, and that was by doing. Caprica knew this, but still she prevaricated. The real reason was something else: an odd restlessness in her feet, like an itch or a tugging at her soul. Of late, the old yearning for love and companionship had died down a little. Now she just wanted… something. Something she couldn't put her finger on. This annoyance was enough to keep her from getting stuck in to making her furniture and the ladders and stairs she'd imagined building in the caverns: keeping her from doing any of the artistic endeavours she had been participating in up until recently. All she could do to quench her undefinable yearning was to travel, and so she'd invented an excuse. Of course, before she created the shelves and platforms in her cave den, she had to finish the walls, still made of only bare stone. She had an idea for covering them with hanging fabrics and woven cloth. Such things could be found in the city: this much she had learned at the Winter Festival. Decorative items endured while the more useful utensils had been gleaned away by intrepid luperci. So Caprica had saddled up, strapping her five saddle bags on in expectant anticipation, and ridden South.

The journey was easy enough for her, used as she was to riding, now. But the city was a far more daunting prospect. She hadn't realised it was so huge - upwards as well as down. Once she was inside, she felt instantly lost and worryingly, every street looked roughly the same. Her horse found the area as spooky as she did, and shied at any rat or bird that made a movement. It was only luck that led her past the fabric warehouse, and luck that caused a selection of curtains to be strewn over the road, a rope of torn fabric leading into the wide doorway of the factory. Caprica dismounted and led Rohan inside, gasping as they halted in the entrance. Piles of cloth assaulted her eyes with their variety. The tall dark wolf and the nervous bay thoroughbred wandered down aisles, past rolls of linen, cotton, ropes of curtain hems, ribbons… most gnawed at by rats or mouldering, but she thought, there was enough to salvage the perfect selection of wall hangings. Which was a nuisance, as her excuses would have to end after this mission was completed.

Shrugging off this petty thought, the Anatheman had finished her work of salvage within an hour or so, tying the horse to what had once been a cash register. She managed to fit enough of one colour into each saddlebag, and two massive rolls she strapped behind the seat, giggling at how they stuck out to either side of Rohan's midsection. It was the long pieces of decorative bordering and ribbons that had her really tempted, but there was no more room on the horse. Or was there?

Caprica emerged from the huge warehouse, followed by an animal resembling more an embellished parade mascot than a working steed. Rohan's back was laden with cloth, both over and under the saddle. Every strap had a ribbon or cord wound around it, and there were still more braided into her mane and tail. Even her legs and tail had not escaped the indignity: each were comprehensively bandaged with strips of black velvet. Caprica herself wore a scarf of a peacock-blue curtain edged with gold, and a lustrous piece of green silk that she hadn't been able to leave behind decorated her head like a turban. The one-horse-parade proceeded at a markedly slower pace back up the road. Proud of her findings, the uncertainty about the way back seemed less troubling now. Caprica was happy to wander.

Sooner or later they reached a segment where the buildings were not so squat and ugly: the fronts seemed smaller and more decorative. She passed many signs, a few still legible but the strange human concepts too alien for her to figure most of them out. She paid little attention to the kinds of stores they passed. She had no more carrying capacity anyway: no point looking for buried treasure. Her horse's hooves clopping loudly on the concrete, Caprica was sure, when she saw an investigating golden figure ahead, that the luperci would have heard her arrival, so there was no point even considering avoiding an encounter. The woman had a sack over one shoulder, which Caprica eyed longingly. If she had another bag, she might be able to tie it on somehow, and thus gain more loot. "Hey!" she called, but Rohan had chosen this moment to find her own newly-velvet legs surprising and was spinning around fretfully on the spot, so Caprica wasn't able to ride over in a friendly manner as she'd planned. The mare came to a long-suffering halt eventually, and Caprica turned her gaze back over to the wandering lady with ther short hair and scent of perfume. "Uhhh, hey. Are ya plannin' on using that sack?" she inquired, with her usual straightforward indelicacy, but she caught herself immediately. "I mean, heh, where'd you find such a useful looking sack like that, I mean... wow." Caprica tailed off shamefacedly.

Image courtesy of fabiogis50

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