Fight with Tools
#8
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If it were not for Strelein's sense of exploratory necessity as a pup had given him the motivation to discover, but his discoveries gave him the drive to create. Finding the lute had been simply pure luck in a place of rotting wood and dust mingling with soot. It had been the diamond in the rough. Not only had it survived so long, but it gave him so much inspiration unlike any other thing the redhead had found in his past. There had been something about plucking those strings that brought up dust on the first plucking. He had jumped the moment it made that sound, but when it had done him no harm, he took it and cleaned it as best as he could with whatever way his lupine form could allow him. Then he had still be afraid to be caught in a body found unsuitable by the pack majority. Later he had realized that the only way to get the cleanest, purest sound possible was to clean it completely, inside and out. The hands given in the Optime form gave him the versatility needed to perform this. He broke the gravest rule to do so, all for the sake of finding a way to create music with the instrument.


The drive to sew had come from more shallow motivation. The yellowing pages had shown people in pretty clothes, embroidered, feathered, sequined, beaded, and glittery. The lure of sparkles was hard to fight, but the lure of looking good was impossible to ignore. Those ancient pictures were an example for the redhead to follow, to be as eccentric as possible, to experiment and practice. It was around the time he had started making his own clothing that he had begun to plan to leave. First, Strel had to learn how to survive on his own, but once he had, he left as fast as possible with as much a he could carry. All of it he had needed so there had been few things to bring since life in the Sanilac pack had basically ended for the wolf.


The look on the redhead's face softened as the Church woman's look grew slightly more serious. He patted her hand lightly before looking at the cans of paint. He saw a red, and from what the label said, it was a rather vivid one; cranberry. He had never had one of those berries, but the color was divine on the can. He wanted at least part of the mural, or a flat wall in the color. Hopefully it would be bright, like fire, and give heat and warmth to the dull, chilly place he slept in nightly. "Didn't we already win?" His grinned broadened again as he pulled up the can into the cart. The thing was heavier than it had seemed, but that was fine. "How long have you been painting, Mati?" he inquired, curiously. She certainly seemed to know what she were doing and what was needed to do a good paint job. "Who taught you?" Strel had not seen the woman's paintings yet, but he was sure her apparent knowledge showed her experience in the art.

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