[html]
300+
This table doesn't fit the thread BUT I'LL BE DAMNED. IT'S PRETTY.
Noss was home and he was now a member of the kingdom. What more could the man ask for? He was even busy with his trade work. Strel was in a happy place at the moment and everything was good. It was nice having someone around who he cared about, secretly, living with him in the hotel. Noss was still a tribesman at heart and that was not an issue with the redhead. Whatever traditions the man wanted to keep, let him do it, so long as it did not make him wander off to AniWaya and away from him. Not that he would admit it yet, having Noss around was exactly what he needed. Whatever feelings of sadness were in his head could easily be vacated with a quick argument with the tribesman. So, all was good.
Granted, it was still kind of awkward to see Zafier around, though the redhead tried to stay clear of that man, seeing as they had briefly, briefly been lovers. That briefly was only a single encounter but the redhead had warmed up to him at the time, and now he was with someone else. Well, who would have thought? Strel certainly never had a clue he would end up kind of not single. It was nice, very nice. But he did need his alone time. So the redhead ambled out of the hotel, away from the sewing. Noss was out about doing something or other; he would be back later tonight.
Sitting against the tightly packed trees in the Calico grove, the tailor relaxed, eyes closed as he breathed in the lovely April air. The grove was quiet and he could not help but enjoy it, halfway to snoozing off. But he pushed back his drowsiness, letting sun warm his face but the still chilly breeze keep his senses alert.
<style>
.stream1 .ooc {font-style:italic;text-align:center; padding:0px 20px }
.stream1 p {padding:3px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:20px;}
.stream1 b {color:#640e7a; letter-spacing:-.2px; text-shadow:#dcc3ff 0px 1px 0px; }
.stream1 .line1 {width:330px; border-bottom:1px dotted #401a5e; margin:0 auto 3px auto;}
.stream1 {background-color:#c8a1ff; background-image: url( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... hukura.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:2px solid #c8a1ff; font-family: tahoma, serif; font-size:11px; color:#430a75; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:12px; width:375px; text-align:justify; }
.stream1-border {width:379px; border:1px solid #401a5e; margin:0 auto;}
.stream1 .inner {margin:100px 10px 10px 10px; padding:10px; background-image:url( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... ainner.png); border:1px solid #401a5e; border-radius:10px;-moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px;}
</style>
[/html]
[html]
Coding©Sie - Word Count: 4638
Is it okay if I say he's near the clearning?
In all of his recent exploring, he must have skipped over this place. And maybe he should have just stayed away. The trees were so dense here, it was impossible for him not to become covered in dirt and plant debris as he walked through. It was supposed to be a leisurely walk, but with pollen and shreds of leaves falling on him, Denver was less than pleased. He was already halfway through, but he still considered just turning around and going out. From the outside, despite it's density and depth, he'd been able to tell there was a clearing. But now, he wasn't sure if he'd bother making it through.
Denver had started to become used to traveling alone, though he enjoyed it no more now than he ever had. And though his encounters were, to his enjoyment, becoming more frequent, he couldn't say that the place was the bustling and busy Kingdom he longed for. But it would do, for now.
Denver was nearing what it was he sought, and pulled himself through a clump of trees, managing to bring his hand back with a chunk of bark nestled into it. Disgusted, he frowned and shook the debris away. Horror struck when he realized the little piece of bark had been home to a rather large spider, now sitting on his hand. The thing was probably as afraid as he was, but he didn't care. Shaking his hand fiercely he let out a terrified scream and ran without hesitation through the rest of the dense trees, coming into the clearing and stopping hard. Twirling around, he examined the rest of his clothing and body, making sure it was free of arachnids and leaf-litter. Satisfied but still frazzled, he adjusted his hair quickly and ran his hands over his face, letting out a heavy sigh.
Of course, Denver thought he was alone. So when he realized moments later, now having a second to look around, that there was someone sitting there, under one of the trees, he did nothing but stare back in return. Surely this man had heard his fuss, seen him acting like an idiot right there in plain sight. Denver's posture fell, and he mumbled, "...Spider," pointing back to where he'd come from.
Icy blue eyes glanced away with a sigh, palming his face again before approaching slowly with less than his usual swagger. "I'm uh... I'm new here," he said in accented tones, as if it would excuse his behavior. The ivory dog brushed off his coat, having found some stray dirt, before extending a hand to the auburn-haired man. "They call me Denver." Composed as ever, it was hard to tell that only moments ago he'd been fleeing in terror from such a tiny creature.
<style>
.DM1 p {padding:0px 20px 10px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:10px;}
.DM1 b {color:#6f2824;}
.DM1-b {width:498px; border:1px solid #000000; margin:0px auto;}
.DM1 a:link, .Alaki-grave a:visited {
color:#6f2824; text-decoration:none; font-weight:bold; }
.DM1 a:hover, .Alaki-grave a:active {
color:#6f2824; text-decoration:underline; font-weight:bold; }
.DM1-header {font-family:georgia, serif; color:#6f2824; text-shadow:#6f2824 0px 0px 4px; float: right; margin:5px; text-transform:uppercase; font-size:15px; font-weight:bold; letter-spacing:1px;}
.DM1-ooc {font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:9px; letter-spacing:.4px; font-style:italic; color:#4d4d4d;}
.DM1 {background-color:#898883; padding:0px 0px 10px 0px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#000000; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:2px; line-height:14px; width:496px; text-align:justify; background-image:url( http://img809.imageshack.us/img809/5633/74941753.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding:10px 0px 203px 0px; } </style>
[/html]
[html]
300+
sorry for delay
It was so quiet, so peaceful. It was tranquil even though the breezes were not strong here. He would have been happier if it were not for the lack of insects around him, butterflies and the like. But that meant going to the sunflowers or somewhere else with more bugs. Of course perhaps it was still too cold for them. Oh, well. Fewer insects and such. But then, Strel jerked as the loud sound echoed in the clearing, making him open his eyes and shoot out his hands to stabilize himself even though he was sitting against a very solid tree. It was screaming, that much was sure but it still sounded so unnatural at the same time. What was it?
Someone wandered into the clearing and the redheaded man just gave him a look, staring at him. He was waiting for him to turn around, since it was clear that the stranger had not noticed the tailor sitting on the ground giving an incredulous look. Who was this ridiculous guy? Yelling and then wandering around looking terrified for some reason? Strel watched the man dust off his clothes, and he could not help but admire them; his work interrupting his relaxing brain. But that shifted away when Strel was finally discovered by the clothed man. Strel gave a little wave, making a face as he nodded slowly at the statement about a spider. What spider? It was kind of funny, to be honest, but still.
The man had an accent, and the redhead cocked his head at him. A hand was extended to him, and the man briefly stared at it before taking it uncertainly; few had him shake his hand since it was such a strange human gesture, even for him. But who cared? "Strel," he said simply, remaining seated, not willing to give up his brief moment of calm. "Denver, huh? Nice accent. Where you from?" There was no point in saying how long Strel had been in the pack; it was going to be two years this June.
<style>
.simplesea .ooc {font-style:italic;text-align:center; padding:0px 00px;color:#9aada6; }
.simplesea p {padding:3px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:20px;}
.simplesea b {color:#d0c7bd; letter-spacing:-.2px; text-shadow:#a5aa9e 0em .1em 0em; }
.simplesea .line1 {width:250px; border-bottom:1px dotted #a5aa9e ; margin:0 auto 3px auto;}
.simplesea {background-color:#867c68; background-image: url( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... each-2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #a2aea6; font-family: tahoma, serif; font-size:11px; color:#bdd0c9; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:12px; width:420px; text-align:justify; }
.simplesea-border {width:422px; border:1px solid #bdd0c9; margin:0 auto;}
.simplesea .inner {margin:60px 33px 10px 33px; padding: 3px 10px; background-image:url( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... inner2.png); border:1px solid #9aada6; border-radius:10px;-moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px;}
</style>
[/html]
[html]
Durr, I'm slow too, it's okay. :] I hope Strel is wearing clothes! >> If not I can change. Sorry it's so short! D:
The first thing that Denver noticed about the Cours stranger, besides his fiery locks (and the fact that he was yet another wolf in this supposed dog Kingdom), was his clothing. It was well-fitting and nicely made. The earth-colored man seemed to take good care of his things, much like Denver did. Appraising, ice blue eyes followed the hand as it made contact with his own, if apprehensively. Did the Luperci here not shake hands? Puzzled, Denver's brows furrowed slightly at the introduction.
"Nice t'meetcha, Strel." he said shortly, straightening and letting his eyes wander his clothes again for more dirt.
Eventually, he settled and placed a hand on his hip in a leisurely, characteristic gesture. "Denver, huh? Nice accent. Where you from?" Strelein questioned him, and the wolf-dog cleared his throat with a rough laugh.
"Born in Virginia, if y'know where that is. Down south quite a bit. My parents were farmers, but I can't say I like doin' that too much." he admitted, running clean ivory fingers through his chocolate-tipped locks.
"Where'd ya get them nice clothes?" he asked, motioning finally to the nice things that the man wore. Maybe he'd have to go searching for himself, if they were plentiful around here. "Nice t'see some people still like t' take care'a themselves, sometimes..." he grumbled, eyes wandering off, warily keeping alert for any more bugs that might try to attack him.
<style type="text/css">
.castleground-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-size:12px; text-align:right;}
.castleground b {font-weight:bold; color:#e6bc86; letter-spacing:1px}
.castleground p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.castleground {margin:0 auto; background-color:#2b2217; background-image:url( http://i56.tinypic.com/j0zd3b.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding: 300px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#9e865d; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify; width:400px; border:1px solid #1c140e; margin:0 auto;}
</style>
[/html]
[html]
300+
sorry for delay
"Virginia?" Strel asked, only vaguely aware of the former states and their borders and names. He did not know human geography well aside from the path from his former home in Michigan. But the accent seemed like something further south of his former pack and homeland. Few wolves in his area had those kinds of accents. Really few had any sort of accent that he could detect. Fewer still had been farmers. Hell, his pack had been traditional in all meanings of the word. Walking on two legs was not allowed; it could mean beatings for first few offenses and exile for many repeats. Naturally, Strel chose to leave before they could catch on to his constant law breaking and beat him senselessly into submission. Well, again. "Mine were average wolves. Dunno what occupation to call it, to be honest..," he muttered, almost absentmindedly at it too.
The redheaded man looked down at his clothes; a light canvas jacket, deep green shirt and custom fitted jeans. Naturally his skills had gotten much better, a far cry better than the clothes he had arrived in. "These?" he asked, pointing to his jacket, picking at the collar lightly. "I made them, I did," he said proudly, smirking in his pride as he puffed out his chest ever so slightly. He was good at it by now, or so he so strongly believed. "Sure do. I try to help them along most of the time. I'm a tailor in my pack ; so I make stuff. Right now I'm making a tux for some other leader; he's having a human wedding for his woman. But i am not making her dress. She probably found one herself in Halifax." Strel waved his hand in apology for rambling so long, probably boring the other man in the process.
<style>
.simplesea .ooc {font-style:italic;text-align:center; padding:0px 00px;color:#9aada6; }
.simplesea p {padding:3px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:20px;}
.simplesea b {color:#d0c7bd; letter-spacing:-.2px; text-shadow:#a5aa9e 0em .1em 0em; }
.simplesea .line1 {width:250px; border-bottom:1px dotted #a5aa9e ; margin:0 auto 3px auto;}
.simplesea {background-color:#867c68; background-image: url( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... each-2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #a2aea6; font-family: tahoma, serif; font-size:11px; color:#bdd0c9; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:12px; width:420px; text-align:justify; }
.simplesea-border {width:422px; border:1px solid #bdd0c9; margin:0 auto;}
.simplesea .inner {margin:60px 33px 10px 33px; padding: 3px 10px; background-image:url( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... inner2.png); border:1px solid #9aada6; border-radius:10px;-moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px;}
</style>
[/html]
[html]
Bahaha. Denver is fun. >> WC: 316
"Yeah, it's down south a'ways... Couple weeks travel." he elaborated, his accented voice light, but rough. He hadn't really thought about the trip as he'd made it; he stopped so often along the way. He grunted in reply to Strelein's mention of his parents; Denver no longer desired to talk about it.
Denver moved carefully closer to the other man, keeping his eyes on his feet as he stepped through the brush. He stepped in a squishy bit of mud and grimaced, glaring at the spot angrily as he shook the offending material off of himself. "Ugh," he mumbled, nearly tripping again as he came to a stop beside the earth colored wolf. Denver leaned himself against the odd tree and crossed his arms, looking down through icy blue eyes at the man. The wolf had eyes that were an odd color: very light purple. He said he'd made his clothes, and he suddenly became more interesting. Curious eyebrows raised, Denver now paid selective attention as the stranger rambled for a moment about his clothing.
"Really?" he drawled slowly, nearly purring with interest. Oh, this could be useful, he thought. "That's a very neat skill. Clothes are fun; I don' think I could make 'em m'self, though..." he trailed off, half talking to himself. No, he didn't really even want to bother trying to learn how to make them. Why should he, when someone else could just make them for him?
"Can I pay you somehow to make me somethin'?" he wondered aloud, suddenly pushed into thought, considering possibilities for new things to wear. Maybe another jacket, or a nice collared shirt. He could stand for some summer clothing, soon, though, he supposed...
Standing there, lost in thought, he suddenly wished he had a cigarette. "You don't happen t'have any cigarettes, do ya?" Wouldn't hurt to ask, and that would have hit the spot right then.
<style type="text/css">
.castleground-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-size:12px; text-align:right;}
.castleground b {font-weight:bold; color:#e6bc86; letter-spacing:1px}
.castleground p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.castleground {margin:0 auto; background-color:#2b2217; background-image:url( http://i56.tinypic.com/j0zd3b.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding: 300px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#9e865d; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify; width:400px; border:1px solid #1c140e; margin:0 auto;}
</style>
[/html]
[html]
300+
sorry for delay
Strel almost laughed at the man as he navigated the mud, thinking him perhaps a tad bit too prissy to be bothering to go outside during the rainy spring. But he bit it back, knowing that he was much the same about mud. He watched this performance, eyes showing his amusement at it all. That was why Strel had avoided the mud; cleaning it off was a pain and required so much time. He had a personal rule that a dirty body was not allowed in his studio or into his bedroom. The studio was self explanatory; the clothes had to be clean and professional. But he demanded cleanliness in his room as the mural on the wall was something he was proud of and did not want dirtied. That and the bedding was a hassle to wash.
"Yeah, really. I'm a tailor," he repeated, rolling his eyes. It was not like he lied the first time around. He was a tailor, end of story. Denver probably had not seen his studio in the Hotel yet, or perhaps he had not been there yet. "Oh definitely fun. I've made enough dresses, pants, shirts, you name it, to cloth a small canine army," he joked, wondering how his fingers remained intact after all of that. But he was very good at what he did. There was less amateur and more professional in him now. "It's not too hard once you do it for over two years." Strel shrugged a bit, rolling his shoulders against the wood of the tree.
"Pay me?" inquired the redhead, looking up at the garbed mutt. "I don't really have a payment plan, but I do do trades for things, like services or favors or item trades, that sort of thing. But if you can't do much else, just find me bottles of booze in good condition and it'll be a deal," he said plainly. Then he shrugged again, looking back into the heart of the clearing. "But the amount varies on what you want from me. And how hard the material was to find." Strelein scratched at his head absently, running fingers through loose locks. He ought to make himself a hair-tie soon. The man's request got a confused look from the man, whose lavender eyes shot up back at him. "Cigarette? Nah, don't have one, don't smoke. Or at least never have." He did not really plan to start.
<style>
.simplesea .ooc {font-style:italic;text-align:center; padding:0px 00px;color:#9aada6; }
.simplesea p {padding:3px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:20px;}
.simplesea b {color:#d0c7bd; letter-spacing:-.2px; text-shadow:#a5aa9e 0em .1em 0em; }
.simplesea .line1 {width:250px; border-bottom:1px dotted #a5aa9e ; margin:0 auto 3px auto;}
.simplesea {background-color:#867c68; background-image: url( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... each-2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #a2aea6; font-family: tahoma, serif; font-size:11px; color:#bdd0c9; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:12px; width:420px; text-align:justify; }
.simplesea-border {width:422px; border:1px solid #bdd0c9; margin:0 auto;}
.simplesea .inner {margin:60px 33px 10px 33px; padding: 3px 10px; background-image:url( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... inner2.png); border:1px solid #9aada6; border-radius:10px;-moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px;}
</style>
[/html]
[html]
Huuurrr I suck. Denver is just kind of a dick. Even though he pretends he isn't (sometimes).WC: 371
Man, this guy was a talker. As soon as Denver struck up the conversation with him, he knew he'd found an interesting fellow. And he sure was. It was too bad that Denver didn't really care about most of the stuff he had to say. Being the polite sort, though, the white mutt smiled and nodded in all the right places.
"Well, that's pretty neat," he said honestly, regarding clothing for armies. Maybe when he was a king, he would be able to call upon this man to clothe his masses. A sly grin spread across his face at the thought.
Strelein took a moment to determine the payment options Denver would have, and the ivory dog brought a hand to his face, idly scratching there. Denver was certain he'd be able to provide whatever it was the man wanted for payment. "Goods, services, I can do any of 'em," he said with a laugh. What he gave was of no consequence to Denver; there was a city nearby, he'd heard, and there would be plenty of goods to find there. Services, well... it depended on which type the copper Cours man would ask for. Eyebrows raised, unsure if this had been a sexual advance. Maybe his mind was just in a dirty place. Either way, the guy talked way too much for Denver to want to spend any of that sort of time with him. Clearing his throat, he figured he should respond in some way.
"I'm sure we can arrange somethin'," he muttered, "But I want sum'n real nice. I'll hav'ta figure it out." He wanted clothing fit for a king; only the best.
Denver's new acquaintance became even less amusing when he had no cigarette to offer. The dog frowned. "Damn." He really should have brought some.
"So, uh..." he started, leaning on an arm extending to the tree, "what do you know about the city 'round here? Anything happenin' there?" Denver was curious to know if it was anything like the cities he'd lived in before. Maybe it was better than this insect-infested hellhole. No castles, no kingdom, filled with horses and insects. Denver shuttered; he couldn't think about that disgusting spider without getting grossed out.
<style type="text/css">
.castleground-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-size:12px; text-align:right;}
.castleground b {font-weight:bold; color:#e6bc86; letter-spacing:1px}
.castleground p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.castleground {margin:0 auto; background-color:#2b2217; background-image:url( http://i56.tinypic.com/j0zd3b.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding: 300px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#9e865d; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify; width:400px; border:1px solid #1c140e; margin:0 auto;}
</style>
[/html]
[html]
300+
Strel shrugged his shoulders slightly, thinking it was only a minor accomplishment. "Sure it is, but I've been here practically from the start, so it's expected." Strel was really the last of the oldest pack members. Others had moved on and a scant two or three remained. But even so, the redhead did not feel entitled to certain benefits. Granted, he would never say no to them, but he did not seek them out actively.
"Yeah I'll take anything in equal exchange. But since you're one of us, a courtier, I do make allowances, so don't worry too much. I do want something but it won't be that much of an equal exchange." He was kind like that, but he was still going to ask for payment for his services, even if he did do a lot of work gratis. As for Denver, well his costs were going to be higher than an older member of Cours, but he would still get a discount. Okay, so it was a scant discount, but Strel rewarded loyalty, especially to the kingdom where he had been the happiest in his life.
Halifax? Well, it was certainly the fun place to be. If only it was as active as the humans had it before. "In the city? Well I haven't been lately, but there are plenty of stores to pillage, though many have been scavenged through. I'm sure if you were up to it, you could set something up. Put up signs for the literate folk and spread word of mouth for those that aren't," he said, inspecting his hands with disinterest. He was just speculating as no one had set up anything before. But it would be nice to see something get going, like a market or a bar, or something active and always around. "Honestly we just make our own fun" If that's what it was called nowadays.
<style>
.simplesea .ooc {font-style:italic;text-align:center; padding:0px 00px;color:#9aada6; }
.simplesea p {padding:3px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:20px;}
.simplesea b {color:#d0c7bd; letter-spacing:-.2px; text-shadow:#a5aa9e 0em .1em 0em; }
.simplesea .line1 {width:250px; border-bottom:1px dotted #a5aa9e ; margin:0 auto 3px auto;}
.simplesea {background-color:#867c68; background-image: url( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... each-2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #a2aea6; font-family: tahoma, serif; font-size:11px; color:#bdd0c9; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:12px; width:420px; text-align:justify; }
.simplesea-border {width:422px; border:1px solid #bdd0c9; margin:0 auto;}
.simplesea .inner {margin:60px 33px 10px 33px; padding: 3px 10px; background-image:url( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... inner2.png); border:1px solid #9aada6; border-radius:10px;-moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px;}
</style>
[/html]
|
