01-18-2010, 10:03 PM
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587
yes indeed. Strel would be a fainter. xD
The woman seemed quite excited about the fact that the male could sew. He gave her a questioning look, wondering why on earth her reaction's magnitude was what it was. Then he shrugged, fully aware that they were making a trade off here with the redhead still being in a rather vulnerable position. She was the healer helping him out, and he was the crybaby with needles in his foot. Some would say the woman would have persuaded him to make her clothing in exchange for her services. But now that was just his imagination running away with him. Strel could probably have been a very strange writer had he the ability to read and write. Speaking English was all find and dandy, but reading those letters they wrote everywhere was harder to manage.
Strel did give her a kind looking, realizing that she probably did not often get a chance to get herself something terribly nice. It was hard to find good stuff in the city sometimes, especially in the clothing department. Strel knew, he looked. Custom made was the way to go, which was one of the reasons he did what he did. The unique body shapes of a Luperci were different from the human's, and fitting shirts was sometimes hard. Dresses, pants, and skirts tended to be easier by a lot, but the redhead still stood by his belief. Besides, if he did not, what kind of job could he possibly have anywhere? Clothing would have been a chore and a bother rather than an enjoyable occupation. "Sure could, it wouldn't be too much of a struggle I bet. I don't work in leather," he laughed, feeling a bit dizzy. The blood loss was minimal, but he still did not feel to be the top of his game.
With a final yank, the needles were gone and Strel relaxed, grinning like some fool. Now that was not too terrible now that he thought about it. Well, he was just glad that the whole ordeal was over and done with so he could stop degrading himself in the eyes of another member of Cours des Miracles. What a shameful image he presented to her, whining and pouting like a puppy. "Oh thank you, Miss Alaine." He was truly grateful. Had she not been around, he would have moped for an hour or so before, dejected, he would have pulled them out himself and only moped for a bit longer. The woman ran off and returned, rather quickly, to get an ointment of some sort for the redhead's pinprick puncture wounds. He mumbled some thanks as the bandages went over the coating of the medication. Strel smiled at her as he took her her hand, most of his weight going to his good paw. "Good thing I don't plan on running anytime soon, eh?"
Strel leaned against the table for some support, hand reaching for the measuring tape. Then, tape in hand, he took a scrap of burlap and a charcoal crayon. Edge of the measuring tape in hand, he dropped it, letting the other end curl on the floor. "Since you're here, I might as well get your size, eh?" Strel lifted it up the tape so the metal tipped end was barely touching the floor. The numbers were revealed to be going from one on the floor, to the ten feet in his hands. "Height please," he asked, rather pleasantly. "While we're at it, what's your preferred color, or what color would you like?"
yes indeed. Strel would be a fainter. xD
The woman seemed quite excited about the fact that the male could sew. He gave her a questioning look, wondering why on earth her reaction's magnitude was what it was. Then he shrugged, fully aware that they were making a trade off here with the redhead still being in a rather vulnerable position. She was the healer helping him out, and he was the crybaby with needles in his foot. Some would say the woman would have persuaded him to make her clothing in exchange for her services. But now that was just his imagination running away with him. Strel could probably have been a very strange writer had he the ability to read and write. Speaking English was all find and dandy, but reading those letters they wrote everywhere was harder to manage.
Strel did give her a kind looking, realizing that she probably did not often get a chance to get herself something terribly nice. It was hard to find good stuff in the city sometimes, especially in the clothing department. Strel knew, he looked. Custom made was the way to go, which was one of the reasons he did what he did. The unique body shapes of a Luperci were different from the human's, and fitting shirts was sometimes hard. Dresses, pants, and skirts tended to be easier by a lot, but the redhead still stood by his belief. Besides, if he did not, what kind of job could he possibly have anywhere? Clothing would have been a chore and a bother rather than an enjoyable occupation. "Sure could, it wouldn't be too much of a struggle I bet. I don't work in leather," he laughed, feeling a bit dizzy. The blood loss was minimal, but he still did not feel to be the top of his game.
With a final yank, the needles were gone and Strel relaxed, grinning like some fool. Now that was not too terrible now that he thought about it. Well, he was just glad that the whole ordeal was over and done with so he could stop degrading himself in the eyes of another member of Cours des Miracles. What a shameful image he presented to her, whining and pouting like a puppy. "Oh thank you, Miss Alaine." He was truly grateful. Had she not been around, he would have moped for an hour or so before, dejected, he would have pulled them out himself and only moped for a bit longer. The woman ran off and returned, rather quickly, to get an ointment of some sort for the redhead's pinprick puncture wounds. He mumbled some thanks as the bandages went over the coating of the medication. Strel smiled at her as he took her her hand, most of his weight going to his good paw. "Good thing I don't plan on running anytime soon, eh?"
Strel leaned against the table for some support, hand reaching for the measuring tape. Then, tape in hand, he took a scrap of burlap and a charcoal crayon. Edge of the measuring tape in hand, he dropped it, letting the other end curl on the floor. "Since you're here, I might as well get your size, eh?" Strel lifted it up the tape so the metal tipped end was barely touching the floor. The numbers were revealed to be going from one on the floor, to the ten feet in his hands. "Height please," he asked, rather pleasantly. "While we're at it, what's your preferred color, or what color would you like?"