04-07-2012, 06:35 PM
Sebastian was wandering throughout the massive forest for far less practical reasons than Frodo. He was simply exploring for the sake of exploring, and the chance to either bag some food or see a piece of forest that begged to be painted. Though he had found no such patch of forest, he had managed to shoot a rabbit and was happily gnawing on the corpse's chewy legs as he drifted through the trees like a lost and somewhat spaced-out balloon.
He was, as per usual for the acrobatic artisan, clad in only a pair of jeans with bare feet and chest. He was weighed down by his bow, quiver of arrows and the satchel containing everything he needed to whip up a picture. He also carried his "travelling supplies" as he called them inside the satchel. These were two bottles of wine, a trashy romance novel and a spare pair of jeans. His daggers were neatly sheathed in his pockets.
Sebastian smacked his lips loudly as he tore through the leg of the deceased rabbit and left the bones on the ground. Scavengers would pick them up soon enough. The Italian was so focused on the rabbit that he'd almost missed the sound of hoofbeats on the forest floor. Almost.
Silky red ears twitched as the artisan froze. Could it be Tupelo, the horse who'd had it in for him back in Casa di Cavalieri? Surely not. Just a traveller. Not that psychotic equine that pretended to be so sweet and innocent around Wayne. No, just a stray. Or a traveller. Or a particularly fat deer. Whatever the case, Sebastian intended to be prepared.
Sebastian leaped upwards and scaled the nearest tree, alighting on a thick branch some twelve feet off the ground. He watched the forest trail with deep suspicion, his bow drawn and an arrow nocked in the direction of the hoofbeats. Sebastian was perfectly visible for those looking; his bright red and white fur stood out in shocking relief to the green and brown of the forest. It was only a question of whether or not he should shoot the impending threat.
He was, as per usual for the acrobatic artisan, clad in only a pair of jeans with bare feet and chest. He was weighed down by his bow, quiver of arrows and the satchel containing everything he needed to whip up a picture. He also carried his "travelling supplies" as he called them inside the satchel. These were two bottles of wine, a trashy romance novel and a spare pair of jeans. His daggers were neatly sheathed in his pockets.
Sebastian smacked his lips loudly as he tore through the leg of the deceased rabbit and left the bones on the ground. Scavengers would pick them up soon enough. The Italian was so focused on the rabbit that he'd almost missed the sound of hoofbeats on the forest floor. Almost.
Silky red ears twitched as the artisan froze. Could it be Tupelo, the horse who'd had it in for him back in Casa di Cavalieri? Surely not. Just a traveller. Not that psychotic equine that pretended to be so sweet and innocent around Wayne. No, just a stray. Or a traveller. Or a particularly fat deer. Whatever the case, Sebastian intended to be prepared.
Sebastian leaped upwards and scaled the nearest tree, alighting on a thick branch some twelve feet off the ground. He watched the forest trail with deep suspicion, his bow drawn and an arrow nocked in the direction of the hoofbeats. Sebastian was perfectly visible for those looking; his bright red and white fur stood out in shocking relief to the green and brown of the forest. It was only a question of whether or not he should shoot the impending threat.