04-17-2012, 12:02 AM
((Somebody just inspired me to choose a skill. LOL And sorry for the little PP, if you'd like it changed, let me know?))
While being a warrior was what he knew he would be good at, he really wanted to better himself at the thing he always scoffed at in the D'Artisian pack. But then, they had been focused on the art where he wanted to focus on the utility. He wanted to replace the chair he had destroyed in the house he was working on. He used spare wood to carve the pieces, using the shattered frame of the older one as a template. Where he couldn't tell how the humans had held theirs together, he was using wooden pegs. He had made a much smaller chair, one that would be good, no, perfect for the pups his mate was now carrying.
Pups. The carving he was doing on what was the arms of the chair fell to his lap, along with the whittling knife. He was going to be a father. Away from the comfort of his mate, the insecurities he'd never admit to came rushing back. Would he be able to protect them, these pups she carried? Or would he end up like Taliesin, running away from the danger that killed half the family?
He set the tools down, standing. He needed to take a break, needed to get out for a bit. He lifted his pack, which contained his special jerky and the black pelt, on which he'd gotten the skin side of the pelt to be a smooth and buttery finish. His intent was to take the pelt of the shadow wolf to his secret alcove. Instead, as he was walking hurriedly, he literally ran into a pack mate. His hackles lifted as he tried to recover from the sudden stop.
While being a warrior was what he knew he would be good at, he really wanted to better himself at the thing he always scoffed at in the D'Artisian pack. But then, they had been focused on the art where he wanted to focus on the utility. He wanted to replace the chair he had destroyed in the house he was working on. He used spare wood to carve the pieces, using the shattered frame of the older one as a template. Where he couldn't tell how the humans had held theirs together, he was using wooden pegs. He had made a much smaller chair, one that would be good, no, perfect for the pups his mate was now carrying.
Pups. The carving he was doing on what was the arms of the chair fell to his lap, along with the whittling knife. He was going to be a father. Away from the comfort of his mate, the insecurities he'd never admit to came rushing back. Would he be able to protect them, these pups she carried? Or would he end up like Taliesin, running away from the danger that killed half the family?
He set the tools down, standing. He needed to take a break, needed to get out for a bit. He lifted his pack, which contained his special jerky and the black pelt, on which he'd gotten the skin side of the pelt to be a smooth and buttery finish. His intent was to take the pelt of the shadow wolf to his secret alcove. Instead, as he was walking hurriedly, he literally ran into a pack mate. His hackles lifted as he tried to recover from the sudden stop.