slip stitch with broken strings

Caspa Al-Fateh · 12-22-2011, 03:32 PM

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The aching hound lay on her back, gazing at the white ceiling of her hotel room. She was tense, and the reasons were myriad. On a physical level, the surely-broken ribs didn't allow for any kind of deep breathing without pain. Understanding the dangers of addiction, Caspa had avoided her home-made painkillers. She was happy to give them to others, whose dose and duration she could control, but although her self-control was well trained she could not face weakening in the face of this latest challenge.

Outwardly there were no dramatic marks - a broad scabbing split on her bottom lip and florid but fur-covered bruising. Her hunched gait told the story of pain, however the Baroness was determined that she didn't need help nor to let the recent misadventure take over her life that it could so easily have taken away. Lying on her floor waiting for sinew and bone to knit, dwelling on her strategy once healed, was no way to carry on all the time. She remembered the fun she'd been having, days that seemed lifetimes before, meeting Skoll and Charlotte, inventing with Terra, creating their magic show. She'd kept the other wolf's coat afterwards, meaning to make decorative amends to it - by consulting the resident tailor, of course. She had no talent for ornamentation, and she had no excuse to go on avoiding the fact that Strelein was the man for the job. Any avoidance of that fact would have been irrational, and Caspa never allowed for irrationality.

She stood gingerly up, one arm crossed across her chest as if holding in the pain and moved to the hallway, taking the coat from where it hung on the door. It was a good coat, a dark aubergine purple and plush and long but a little tattered around the edges. It was wasp-waisted with flamboyant flaring sleeves. She wondered if Terra would prefer it dyed red or brown to match her fiery fur, but thought the purple was a brilliantly magical sort of hue. She held it to her chest and walked gingerly up the corridor, remembering that she and the Dauphin dwelled on the same level. When she came to his workshop, Caspa didn't allow herself a moment's hesitation to reconsider but announced herself with a low woof, "Anybody there?" She had no idea what to call him, having not spoken to the man in a very long time - since before his promotion. They had been on first name terms momentarily, but Caspa guessed she'd probably damaged whatever beginnings of friendship they'd had.

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Strelein von Rosnete · 01-01-2012, 05:33 PM

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527
thank you for your patience <3

Strelein had found a respite from all the problems and burdens of leadership for the day, knowing that he was not needed for business. Things were quiet as winter had come and packs found their meat stores swelling as the herds passed through and game was plentiful. Their own stocks were full and filling. Granted, their times of hunger had, historically, been in the summer, when hunting was harder and the prey much stronger. Yet with all the skills they had acquired over the years of the mutation, they could supply themselves better. Traps, ranged weapons, fishing, and other methods made finding meat an easy thing. The only trouble was the effort needed to set traps or to wait for fish. Regardless, the bolstered stock of meat would do good in the summer and keep them all fed and happy. The pack was small, the numbers lowered as new packs came and took them away. Others left, unsatisfied. Strel was worried, for they were getting to be so few. Hopefully, this winter would bring fresh blood to the kingdom of misfits.

He heard someone speak, and the man ignored it. He had gone upstairs to his store rooms to make alterations to one of his first shirts. Rather, the tailor wanted to rip the shirt apart and use the cloth for another piece of his. He wanted a new vest, and the cloth color of the shirt would be useful in the lining of the vest as well as the side panels. It could always be added to create a wider outfit in case of weight or muscle gain. Not that he would really gain either. His figure was as trim, lithe, as ever and him gaining muscle would be a feat indeed. He rarely ran more than necessary, and whenever he felt the least bit pudgy he would go on a patrol of the interior border of the kingdom. There was plenty of exercise in that and in providing himself a meal.

All of that aside, Strel descended the stairs with his easy grace, old red shirt draped over his arm as he hummed some random tune to himself. The shirt had been gathering dust and he no longer wore it; it was an abomination of sewing and a waste of thread. Thankfully, it had been nothing more than an adapted old shirt rather than a blatant waste of uncut raw cloth.

At the bottom of the stairs, he saw that someone was waiting for him. Strel blinked at Caspa's back, wondering if she was the one calling earlier and if it was he whom she was seeking. "Ah, hello Caspa," he said calmly, standing behind her as she peered into his studio. "Looking for me?" Strel smiled at the woman as he skirted around her and laid the folded shirt over the back of one of the two chairs in the room. He faced her, hands delicately over his hips in a rather feminine manner. "I hope that man, Augustus, found you?" he added with a coy look in his eyes, wondering why that man had been so adamant in keeping her name quiet.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-02-2012, 07:25 AM

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RAMBLE BRAMBLE

The voice of greeting came from without not within, and Caspa froze as the tailor brushed past her. She shut her eyes briefly, gathering her wits, and swallowed a heavy lump in her throat. It was essential she remained as neutral in expression as usual: Strelein must never know how she had avoided him. If the awkwardness she felt now was ever revealed, her facade of dignity and unreachable tranquillity would be broken. And like all who rely on their false beliefs and dearly-held estimations of self as something they are not, Caspa would not dare to face the question that she might have other sides to her personality. Even when she played with the pups or invented tricks with Terra, she was ever serious, ever keeping the proper goal of a pilgrim in mind. The lean woman lifted her dark lids, but only slightly and barely distinguishable from the black-charcoal irises below as she bowed her arching muzzle in a sombre greeting to the Dauphin. She could not find the words to phrase an actual spoken one. She'd avoided this moment repeatedly, and now it was here it was as bad as she'd expected. She swallowed again, on the threshold her feet shuffled and shifted and her head turning aside a little, like a strange and lanky teenager wishing for an escape from the oblivious tailor's friendly mannerisms and words, and then her ears lifted a fraction beneath their plaits at the mention of Augustus. "He did. I am not sure which of us was more disappointed..." she muttered. "Thank you for accepting him though, Strelein. I found him wandering wounded and in need of a pack." She had done well to recruit the wandering outcast, she thought, but their first reunion had not been without sharpness. He was obviously a pack-wolf through and through, so surely anywhere was better than being a loner, but she wasn't sure if Augustus had been entirely happy with his new home. Not that she'd ever seen him acting anything other than bitter about old memories and losses. She sighed, knowing that she could do no more for him than she had. She knew he had a good heart, but it had taken a long time to show through the rough edges. If the other Courtiers were not as patient as she, he would find no friends here.

But she had not come to discuss the Court's newest recruit, although if Strelein had accepted him, it would certainly be interesting to know how the wolf had behaved himself on the borders. If he comported himself badly, would it reflect on her? She doubted it very much, though. In some ways, despite their encounter on the reserve fence and her charitable instincts towards him they were still barely more than strangers, and had disagreed about more things than they found in common. It was a pity she could not find it in herself to be more pleasant around him, as she could appreciate the potential of the unlucky wolf. The situation was not dissimilar to hers and Strelein's lack of bond, for Caspa had thrown as many spokes in that as she could, not short of simply turning and walking out on him in the middle of a sewing session. She admired the suave male in myriad ways, but could not dare to make any kind of friendly overture and did not want to make herself noticeable to him anyway. It was best for her that they remained aloof to one another, which of course, was not difficult as the tailor was a busy man and she doubted he had time to give a skinny little mutt consideration of any kind anyway. Unless specifically asked for, of course. "Please get rid of me if you are busy. I'm only here to talk about... this." She unfolded the coat, holding it up before him. "What do you think?" It was currently non-descript, especially to Caspa whose fashion experience ran only to tearing the sleeves off a leather coat to make into a bag. It was just a dark purple coat, but soft to the touch with a pinched waist, long flaring hem and long flaring sleeves. It was up to her to find the words to convince Strelein that it could be magical. This was her challenge, and she found herself dreading the task more than she'd dreaded the march to AniWaya on the eve of battle.

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Strelein von Rosnete · 01-03-2012, 03:05 AM

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505
tots fine c:

Strel had to admit that he was a rather terrible leader. His efforts to get to know his packmates was limited and his attentions to their persons was wanting. He wanted to get to know them, it was true, but there just seemed so many other things to do. So much got in the way of him knowing everyone as best as he could. But it just did not happen and he found himself at the short end of the stick as people left the pack for better horizons. He ought to become more friendly, and talk more. He ought to go out and seek out the other people living among. Strel could ask them mundane things about their families, how they were doing, what they had done recently, were they feeling alright, did they need anything? He should try harder and he wanted to. But there still seemed to be too much to do. He had clothes to make and patrols to take. Life was busy busy busy and he could do little about it. Still, Strel would take some time to make the effort. Perhaps.

The redhead nodded, giving the pale woman an amused smile as he thought of the encounter with the stranger. "Good; he seemed rather bothered by me. I'm not sure why." He laughed loudly, rather proud of the fact that he had unnerved the stranger. Not that he should be so proud of that. What if he scared off the next one to come along. Then what? He would have to let Vigilante do more work and what use would the Dauphin be then? Perhaps a party to get everyone together.. that would make him seem useful and like a good leader. Yes, it was a good idea. "That is noble of you, Caspa. I would have done the same in your situation, and I have done similarly in the past." He quickly rolled his eyes, and sent his gaze to the ceiling. Noss might not have been there but it was entirely toward him. Lavender eyes carefully took in the willowy woman. "They were good intentions and I'm sure he is thankful for your.. attention."

Standing proudly before her, hands on hips, the redhead had noticed the thing in her arms but chose not to comment. Strel eyed her as she, rather formally, showed him the coat. His eyes sparkled and he closed the distance. His fingers were visible twitching, wiggling as he smiled at the coat. "Oh, lord, look at that color." He instantly reached out to touch the coat and laughed. "That is really nice." Eyes shining, he locked eyes with the woman. "Can I have it?" But he pulled away with a tinkling laugh, keeping his hands at his sides. "No, no." A head shake and a sigh, he pulled a face as he thought of her request. "It's a lovely color. But is there something else?" Strel shot her a confused look, his brow furrowing and hands resting on his hips.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-04-2012, 07:38 PM

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It sent warm tingles to her very spine to hear him laughing at the notion of disconcerting a newcomer. Some leaders would have taken hurt, personal offence, or become angry and consider the joining person disrespectful. Strelein was amused, which was really the best way to react to Augustus, in Caspa's experience. The irreverent tailor just didn't seem to care what anybody thought: always confident and eyecatchingly colourful in manner and appearance. Silently admiring, the blank and monosyllabic dog could only stand quietly, lifting her eyes a little for fear of staring. His own followed shortly, but he seemed to be indicating the ceiling. Was Strelein invoking a heavenly presence to take note of his own altruistic actions - he did not seem like the religious type, so perhaps he was seeking out someone else. Why, oh why, she wondered bitterly, could she not stop observing in great detail his every movement - even more intently than she did with everybody else. It was darned good luck she had a coat pretty enough to distract him, so that it seemed he had not noticed her - and really, there wasn't much to notice, all the work was being done behind those dark and opaque oblivion eyes.

Playfully he seemed to be about to take it, and then retreated quickly enough not to send her into a panic resembling the one before - although she would probably have managed this moment better, considering she was not quite so muddled by alcohol. It made her spine fizz more and more every time he laughed, though. The Dauphin acted with such familiarity towards her! Of course, he must be the same with everybody. But nobody had ever treated her in quite such a comfortable manner before, least of all her own family. Even her friends were not so relaxed. Augustus was nothing but touchy and they could never quite refrain from bickering every time they met, and though she and Terra often played and fooled, it was in such a businesslike manner and geared towards a quite professional goal - they were more like work partners than close friends, although in time maybe they would find a more companionable level of existence. Of course, that hope would not stand a chance of fruition if she gave away Terra's coat, eager as she was to please the effusive tailor. "I am afraid it is not mine to give," she explained, her tone joking, although only just and it was bordering upon being absolutely serious. "That is the something else. It is my friend Terra's - we are creating a show of magical tricks." She kept her steady gaze trained upon him for any reaction. She was still convinced that a show would be a perfect way to bring the members of the court together, at least as participants in an audience, or entertainment at a party - the very kind which Strelein had in mind, unknown though this was to the petitioning Caspa. "I thought it could do with a little more..." Her vocabulary didn't seem to have many fitting words and she hesitated before continuing "magic. Glitz and glamour and decoration and so on. But I don't really know where to start." She herself was probably one of the most shabbily dressed members of the court that had ever lived - she hardly suited the Noblesse tier she seemed to be placed in, her only garment that tattered leather trench coat. "I hoped it could be a surprise. Do you think anything can be done with it?" She tailed off, knowing she'd said all she needed to say. She did not have Strelein's easy way with words, and could find no way to dress up her proposal with humour or fancy, but its simple bluntness sounded strange to her own ears now.

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Strelein von Rosnete · 01-20-2012, 01:05 AM

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528
I apologize about the length/delay of it.

The man gave a playful wobble of the lip, pretending to be hurt. He could, in all honesty, seize the garment, were he of that nature. But he was hardly the sort and it would do nothing for him to do so. Honor and trust were key for a man in his position. Strel would always stand by his integrity in his work. Sure, his moral compass sailed far from due north most of the time, but he was a just businessman and trader. This coat was of a color he adored but he truly knew of no use for it other than seeming bigger than normal, lean as he was for a man of his height. Strel was always one for things that created illusions of a sort, especially in regard to himself. He would have liked to appear bigger, and this coat could have made him seem more mysterious, perhaps. Or he would seem like an elongated dark wine grape.

The man's look almost sobered at the mention of Terra, that trickster he had accepted into the kingdom. He did not regret letting her stay, for she added a bit of much needed mischief to the kingdom. They had grown dull lately, and he felt himself to be the cause of it. Shaking off such feelings, the man let his easy look return quickly grinning at the woman. "A magic show, you say? That would be amusing, especially if you truly astounded the Court," he said with a bemused hint to his tone of words. The younger members of the kingdom would truly enjoy such a thing, as any child would love amusements. The tailor carefully listened to her request and nodded along, lavender eyes staring deeply into the dark purple coat as though to see what future lay in store for the poor garment.

"You work mostly leather, if I recall, correct?" he inquired of her. Strel let the heavy fabric run though his fingers like a waterfall over rocks, feeling the texture and the weight of it. Brows furrowed in thought, the man recalled the shirts he had found with strange little reflective things on them. Some had silvery tassels and others had tiny beads that glittered in the correct light. Perhaps if mixed with those and brighter threads, the man could give the woman the mood she wanted for the coat. "I think I know what to do, though you'll need to let me know what kind of theme you want. Glitter? Magic? Perhaps sun, stars, and moon like some old wizard?" Taking a deep inhale of air, the redheaded man crossed his arms as he peered up at the pale woman. "I can do something, sure. Though it seems to be a lot of work, and I'm sorry to say I'd have to ask for something in return. However, I guarantee that I'll do my best for your wish for it." Strel's look was truly forlorn, for he did not much like to ask for payment, though often had to. It was not easy what people often wanted and this was a job, not a charity.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-22-2012, 07:09 PM

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The dark-edged dog had not imagined herself ever wearing this coat, although it would have fitted even her narrow frame - pinched in at the waist in a manner in keeping with human aesthetics, and designed cleverly to hang on most anybody's shoulders while still giving the appearance of good size - but it was far too luxuriant a thing to suit a spartan and simply dressed one like herself; nothing she owned was without function, although that didn't entirely bleach her garments of beauty. She knew she was going to have to lend her other coat, her leather trench coat to Terra for practicing purposes, and come up with some kind of explanation as to where her purple scavenged outerwear had gone to. Hopefully she could somehow distract the active-minded girl. But she would also have to design herself a replacement for the jacket, because her own fur coat was not bred to withstand the wintry weather. Even though this one was so much milder than the last as to seem almost an entirely different season. Caspa had a leather hood in mind, something that would extend over her shoulders too, but no further as she did not currently own enough dark tanned material to create a full coat, and it was her habit to dress only in black or shades of grey. She liked to think of her lack of colour as another way to deprive herself of something frivolous and really only a luxury, another way to train her strength of mind. Those with other strengths could wear their colours with pride, but she had only her simplicity.

The Dauphin seemed to approve of the idea, although the benign words came with a caveat regarding the pair managing to truly astound. Caspa wasn't sure about that, as they had been practicing for such a short time, but she knew their showmanship and unique partnership to certainly be amusing. "Well, I can't be sure as we have yet to play to an audience... but we have been astounding one another quite a bit," was all she could think to say, not wishing to get his hopes up, but also strangely wanting to interest the man in their idea. Perhaps she was just hoping for an audience made up of everybody who was anybody in the court, as her whole motivation behind the idea had been to bring the pack members together in a single occasion that was not a discussion of war.

She noted the skilful manner he handled the cloth, a lifetime of experience seemingly in those hands. He had a sensuous way about him that she found foreign and unnerving, although highly pleasing to the eye. "Yes, I can work leather, but nothing more delicate," she shrugged. Her fingers were not nimble or dextrous, although her reflexes were fast. She wondered the purpose of his question - was he seeking assistance with something?

But the quick-thinking man had moved onto another question altogether and she pondered thoughtfully over his words, dark brows furrowing over her deep eyes. "An effect of sparkling and glittering would be excellent." She paused here, trying not to visibly shudder at his other quickly thought-up ideas. Terra was not some old wizard, but more besides, the kinds of symbols he spoke of seemed like they could have occult associations. Stars and moons were too significant in her eyes to use for entertainment purposes. "I think perhaps nothing recognisable - patterns of spirals or swirls, if you can, would be perfect. We may need some extra lining... and pockets, too. I am willing to undertake the sewing myself," her voice grew heavy at this point, thinking of the difficulty her long fingers always had with small needles such as this would require, "but maybe while the decoration is in progress I could show you in a drawing and you can tell me which of my ideas are feasible, I would be most grateful..." She held her breath, hoping against hope he would be willing to try his hand at the task. It was essential for the look of the thing that their star performer should be dressed fittingly, and Caspa could not imagine herself enough of an artist to create anything good enough. Strelein could do it, and that was the only reason she was here. She would never have forced herself over this threshold if he wasn't their best and only hope. So far she was glad that she had kept everything businesslike and sensible, but she knew she must not push her luck, for the strange nerves and jitters could return at any moment. Then her heart soared: as he got onto the subject of payment, it seemed certain he would undertake the project and the hound's tail swished gently with delight. "Of course I shall give in return, anything you wish." She knew he already knew of her leatherworking skill, which was really all her talents, except how to butcher and preserve meat. She doubted this already calm and self-assured man would need to learn to meditate, or want lessons in gardening - when would he have time for that earthy task? She left it up to him to name his price, certain she could turn her hand to his desire. Balance in all things was her watchword, and Strelein would be giving a good deal of his time up for the sake of the magician's robe.

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Strelein von Rosnete · 01-22-2012, 08:07 PM

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1020
whoa nelly, you went all out, didn't you Freddy?

Lavender hued eyes watched the pale dog woman as she spoke of her partnership with Terra. He himself had his mixed feelings about the other woman, though he was sure that Caspa's intentions were strictly honorable at the moment. While he himself did not have the most moral history, all of that had been long since set aside for what he had to do here in the Kingdom as well as for his mate. He was not necessarily the infidelity type, though he was sure he had helped with that for other people. He had, at the time, never bothered to ask questions, especially if an unknown someone was to be hurt by his own actions. Now, he had no such chance of that.

He was sure that the show the two of them planned would be an entertaining spectacle. And it was so sorely needed by the Kingdom. Dull and boring it had become, no longer the time of balls and parties by the shoreline. Perhaps this would be the first event of many that could bring back the life of the Kingdom and create the warm golden glow he remembered from the past. How long had he been here already, he wondered. His mathematical skills were only slightly better than his reading skills; at least he could make alternations in his measurements for his clothing much better than he could write a note to himself.

Making only a small noise of recognition, Strel took note of her declaration of her ability. He remembered when he had stumbled upon her nailing her work into the coffee table in the other room and grumbling to herself about the work she was doing. He remembered that meeting fairly well, or perhaps he could not that well anymore; the redhead had always had some level of poor memory retention. But he was sure that he had taken the woman upstairs to his room and his store of alcohol, though he was unsure what happened next. Naturally, it was nothing inappropriate, for he was still there before the woman, alive and well. Noss would have probably skinned him alive for such a thing. Drunk, Strel could still behave properly. If he wanted to, of course. 'I'm sure I'll have something acceptable for you," he said against her delicate work comment, knowing that leather was not the most dainty of materials to work with.

Strel nodded at her addendum and revisions to his suggestions. He was not aware of the symbology behind suns, stars, and moons, though he knew they were prevalent in more occult-like workings. Not a believer of anything otherworldly, Strel did what he pleased in what designs he pleased. However, embroider was not particularly a common thing for himself, as it was seen as more of a feminine decoration. While nonplussed about the way people thought of him, he chose to limit how much of a female air his clothing gave off to other people; he was still a man at heart and very much a man in body. Regardless, he had be sure that they had wanted a more mystical aura around the coat of dark purple, though it seemed they wished to astound more than denote an air of the secret occult. Not that it mattered much to Strel; he would do as he was asked to the best of his ability.

"A drawing, you say?" he asked, turning his gaze back on the woman and not on the coat. "I have a paper pad and charcoal here if you would like to take it and show me what you think you'd like on here." The Dauphin gestured to the mentioned items atop his clean and orderly table. It was usually cluttered with things: needles, thread, wads of paper, scissors, beads, and all kinds of other things. But now, everything was in it's place. The chain of bobbins on their wires hung from the small dinning room chandelier as well as ragged ribbons with needles stuck into them. The pad of paper was situated near the center of the table, near a small metal bucket of long charcoal sticks. "Though, I have to say, with random swirls and sparkles, it will be so much easier to make mistakes in placement seem like I put them there on purpose," he said with a chuckle, gently touching the table as he rearranged absently some of the materials on it. Sighing, he put them all back into place again.

Strel took a seat in the chair by the table and waved his hand for her to take the other situated close to the table so that they might talk business. "How soon do you need this coat done, just so I know exactly how much time I have to work with." His look was serious, albeit rather light despite the importance of his question. Strel worked just fine under pressure though preferred more time to guarantee a better product. Either way, it was as the customer wanted.

But what kind of price he wanted to ask of the woman, he was unsure. "Since you're good with leather, I suppose something made of leather," he said, pausing as he thought about what he needed the most in his life right now. A belt perhaps, made out of a darker leather and maybe stained a more cherry hue? No, the Dauphin shook his head at himself, wondering what on earth he could ask for. "Perhaps a small sack I can keep small baubles in. Or even a bigger one for transporting a bottle of two of a brew?" Strel was not sure which would be adequate work for the work he would do, but he also had that nasty habit of asking far too little for a lot of work on his side. Either way, at least he would get something to use himself that was not crafted by his own busy hands. "Or, if you can find some, a bottle or two of any alcohol. Though naturally, I'll still happily take something you've crafted."

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-22-2012, 09:14 PM

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got my serious game-face on now! :I Sorry I'm being so long-winded m'dear.

The spark of inspiration that had hit herself and Terra when they met was not something Caspa could explain. She was quite a mechanical animal, not given to sentiment, and her liking for the other girl was based on the fact that she recognised a usefulness in the dextrous and nimble-minded coywolf that tallied with her own skills to enhance them both in partnership. Which would, she hoped in turn enhance the Court they inhabited. While dull was not something she disapproved of, as it gave her plenty of time to think - and the world outside had become so threatening lately that she was grateful for the peaceful respite the sanctuary of the pack gave her - she knew that the bonds between the members had grown thin lately, perhaps because they were spread out geographically, or because their numbers were not what they had been. And she was an artist, in her own way, she was observant and analytical, and she felt the world more empty when everybody did not have a purpose or a task in mind - if not a single, collective one, at least something separately acted upon that would benefit the group as a whole. Perhaps she was high-minded and idealistic for this, but that was a good part of the reason for her aspiration to become a stage performer. And yes, she wanted to bring the magic back to the world, too: to make it about dreams and ideas and using one's talents to please others and make things better, not to fight or vie for power with everybody else. There was nothing unambitious about the slight white hound, although she was insignificant to look upon and in her daily actions, and anyone would be forgiven for doubting she could ever achieve half the things she set her mind to.

She had no idea that in Strelein's wandering mind was born another reason for her to dislike the towering grey male she had met within days of her first arrival: Noss. The thought that he would lay a finger on the decorative tailor for such an adulterous thing would have angered her, although she too believed such an unfaithful action was unremittingly wrong. It was one of those contradictions destined to be forever unexamined in the woman's mind. She moved slowly to the paper and took up charcoal as she sank into the seat, the black stick leaving smudges on her pristine fingertips. She spoke absently as her quick hand sketched, her mind in two places at once and thus rather less clear than usual. "I think no matter how randomly you did it, the abstraction would still be a work of art as is anything from the hand of a true artist." Caspa had never been told, but perhaps a deep part of her self-conscious mind noted now the slight irony of her habit of speaking in axioms like an ancient ancestor brimming with the wisdom of the ages and not of a dog not even two years old. As he spoke, in halting tones sounding rather undecided, she listened with growing unease, then laid down the charcoal and turned her narrow and aquiline face to him with a reproving expression in those liquid-black eyes. "The price you ask is nowhere near enough - I can make bags aplenty, but do you really have use for them? I suppose I can in addition provide alcohol, though it will have to be a good many bottles before the debt is repaid." She owned none herself, but had confidence that she could track the liquor down or travel to the Arte pack where traders were in residence - alone this time, and to deal with legitimate merchants only. The reminder of her recent journey made her eyes even harder, but she did not mean to turn such emotion upon the innocent tailor and looked back to her drawing. "So... if you are willing to receive a leather bottle carrier and be plied with spirits to fill it for a good long time to come, then we'll leave it at that. But let me know if there is anything else you need." She finished a few lines on the drawing and lifted it to the window's light to peer closely at the design, then turned it towards him. "Here are some pockets, along the belt with invisible openings at their top, they would run down the inside of the folds. Then there are more in the sleeves, and inside..." She hoped her scribbles were comprehensible enough. "I was mainly wondering if you think the stitching would show to the outside if these pockets were added, but perhaps the seams could be concealed by your decorations? It would probably be for the best anyway - my needlework is not the neatest."

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Strelein von Rosnete · 01-22-2012, 11:42 PM

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1017
You can totally skip the paragraphs with no dialog xD I just wanted to fart out some words xD

Once upon a time, Strel had been a young pup aimlessly exploring ruins of human towns. The young pup would wander into these derelict houses and poke through the things that were crumbling all around him. At first, it had been strange things that he found, things without names or an identity in his head. First he found the books, moldy and reeking with age and rot. He left them were they lay, spines broken, pages torn, and turning to a mustard yellow color. They never interested him from the start; they just smelled like too many dried leaves rotting after a heavy autumn fall. Underneath a flat piece of a drywall, the pup found himself a bunch of scratched up yellow pencils. A few had their inner grey cores exposed, broken, or missing. He had fumbled with a small piece between his teeth and managed to scribble on the drywall. It had cracked where he wrote on it and the lead left grey marks on his teeth accompanied with a resoundingly bitter taste on his tongue. He had fumbled through falling houses to find mysterious objects from a race lost to the face of the world. All they had left them were the remains of their long lost lives.

That young pup had first bumbled onto the magazines, yellowed with time and moist conditions. They showed the women in crazy outfits, but also in pretty dresses, men in suits, vests, polo shirts, and other things. He found that he liked the way the humans looked, and knew that he could too look like that. He wanted to copy them, those old designers, long since dead and buried - if they had been fortunate enough to receive such a thing. His eyes were caught on shining gold and silver on their necks, wrists, even in their ears. More searches found him the jewelry box, filled with necklaces, bracelets, earrings, rings, and things that sparkled in the light. They were untarnished, mostly, as the box kept them out of the sun, wind, and rain. Dragging it, he had managed to hide it away in his pack lands, though soon was discovered. The leader, vain and haughty, ordered the young Strelein to hand over the box and no harm would come to him. After refusing once, the male was beaten lightly and forced to give away the box. Thankfully, he knew that his alpha was a bastard, eager only to look after himself and his get, and had hidden a few things. He still wore that bangle on his wrist, and remembered why he never returned home, where two legs were the devil's get and his talents would be seen as a gift from hell acquired in an orgy of sin.

Pulled away from his memories, both good and bad, Strel looked at Caspa lightly. He smiled lightly at the woman, waving away her subtle compliments. "Perhaps the randomness itself will make it an artful work? Since it should be random. Isn't magic creating something from the randomness of life?" he said gently, wondering what kind of magic tricks these two people would make. Would they pull things out of thin air or would they make things disappear? Strel did not understand the occult or the divine. They were unknowns to him and it was better off that way. There were those out there who put all of their life's work into their beliefs. What a waste of time and life, especially when their lives were so short to begin with. Who would do such a thing?

In Toronto, the Dauphin had encountered many people of various beliefs. There were a few pagans who believed in the all mighty earth mother who controlled every living thing and was the guiding light for them. They were mostly spiritual and devoted to the preservation of the earth, and very respectful the creatures they killed for their meat. Some did not even eat meat unless they were there for the kill and it was properly thanked for its sacrifice. Others were devout of old human religions, like the ones that came from Europe on the great boats salvaged by the canines there. Others still took on stranger religions that made no sense, following a cult leader. Some, like Strel, did not believe either and disregarded the stories of their ancestors. Strel's loss of religious care came only from his dislike for his pack, which praised the stories of old. He remembered them still, but disregarded them entirely.

"Not enough?" he asked in surprise, wondering what on earth she thought would be an adequate price to pay for this sort of thing. "I would hardly feel in the right asking for more. I was worried I'd be asking too much." He looked at her with a level or surprise and respect, marveling at this woman's sense of fairness. Often, he knew he was asking for far too little when more ought to be given, despite wanting to ask for more. But now he was unsure of what to ask for, especially since Caspa seemed terribly set on making the payment fair. "Really, I'd be fine with just the sacks. Really. "

Caspa finished the drawing and the male looked at it as she hefted it up. Narrowing his eyes briefly, he imagined the coat with so many pockets and he could hardly believe it. Though, the coat was definitely something big and hefty. "I think if I had to sew through the entire coat it'd be fine. Though if I can avoid sewing through it I will. It will decrease cloth puckering," He had made that mistake once, though now knew quite better. "But it should be okay." Turning around, he pulled out a small wooden box. The joint creaked as the lid opened, though inside were many sheared off sequins as well as smaller glass beads. Setting it on the table, he gestured at it for Caspa. "These are some things I tore off old clothes, as well as found. I think it'll work, yes?"

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-24-2012, 07:02 PM

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They were good paragraphs x) I've done it too though, so all you really need to look at is the speech o___o.

If Caspa had been induced or convinced to lay bare her deepest beliefs and her most secret heart, she might have inspired as much amazement or curiosity as the outlandish Toronto faith-followers from his past. Perhaps the difference with her to most devout or spiritually centred persons was her objectivity. She was perfectly able to set aside that part of her character, finding it enough to merely know the truth was there within, ready to guide her actions if a significant moment should call for such. There were certain customs that she did observe, but very few. One was her self-denial, but that was something she had embraced more than her teachings said was strictly necessary. Admittedly it had been implied that the further down this road one travelled, the more holy you became. Of course, even considering this, Caspa would not be so egotistical to treat her faith as a system designed to better her as an individual, and each action taken by the book another point scored next to her name. No, instead, she believed that self-improvement was just one way to show respect for and pay homage to that which she believed in, that which was greater than herself. On a more basic level, she believed it did build her endurance and stamina, which were both necessary for survival for such a weakling dog as herself in a world of - she imagined - rampaging hostile luperci and savage wild beasts. There was clearly a more spiritual aspect as well, though, for such practices as denying herself possessions that were anything more than purely functional, or clothing in any other shade than black, or killing live meat. She knew that with enough time spent living this way, and also keeping her soul and mind as clear and whole as she possibly could, there would come a time when she might transcend her current personality and become ready to follow a divine calling. This was not a privilege ascribed to everybody, though, but the waiting without certainty was just another ordeal to survive through.

Caspa rarely discussed the inner world, partly due to knowing she was not yet qualified to instruct or even inform others of her path in any detail, and partly because she had nobody to talk through such matters with anyway. But now, it seemed with their few simple comments about luck and magic, they were touching close to the surface and her ear twitched in what could have been a nervous tic or a simple reaction to a far-distant noise - it was hard to know. Strelein had an unusual take on magic, but when she thought hard about it, it seemed like he was right. Magic - what some people thought was magic - was usually just a mixture of random coincidence, suggestibility and their own desire for there to be a supernatural explanation. It was not for her to deny the existence of another world, one which souls and ideas and things that were nothing to do with physical reality came from. But this was a realm that was closed to the earthbound, and for good reason. Caspa did not think that creativity was a manifestation of spiritual power. She was all for art, artists and artisans, as a way to affect other's state of mind, provide teachings, or useful objects and functions. For simple amusement or pleasure, though, she did not believe there was any worth. Such a thing was only a distraction from the reality of suffering, which it was necessary to learn to bear. The longer you avoided distress, painting over the gaps, the worse it would be eventually. It should be everybody's desire to purge their minds and souls of any negative influence, and not to squash it down and ignore it. She accepted that few were ready to follow this, the best approach life, but perhaps some day she would to learn to teach her way in a manner that could show others the path.

"Your shiny objects would probably look beautiful even if you arranged them by flinging them up in the air and letting them fall," she finally said, her convoluted thoughts giving her voice a rather distant tone. "But I am sure you have the skill to arrange a spiral or two, even so." She could see the evidence of his craftsmanship all around her, a boudoir of talent that quite overwhelmed her eyes, which liked simple things to look upon. It was only by concentrating and narrowing them into pin-prick tunnels of black that she could manage to pick out individual works in order to admire the flair and attention to detail. She was already considering the bag she would make for him. She would have to make it strong and durable, because she rather thought matching his aesthetics would be a mountain to climb and a challenge indeed. But she could work leather, and would create something seamlessly waterproof and as well-padded as a womb to protect the alcohol she would also provide, despite his modesty. The shape of it could even fit the bottle, as they were mostly standardised in size. The hard part would be the finishing touch; the colouring and etching into the surface that most true pieces of craft were crowned with. How to sum up the fascinating tailor in one simple design would be another challenge, at least for Caspa, whose tendency to over-think and her hours spent alone thinking almost as a hobby - for she had little else - would never allow her to settle for something vague or irrelevant.

The box he gestured for her to look inside was full of still more bafflingly sparkling objects that made her brain fizz as she tried to look at the beads and trinkets with her usual intense scrutiny, but hardly knew where to start; it became easier when she let her eyes blur a little and took in the entire contents as a whole, skimming over them much more easily. "I think they will look good." Colour was another thing that daunted her, perhaps one of the reasons she dressed only ever in black. The coat was dark purple, so a bright selection of colours would easily stand out, but which? A rainbow kaleidoscope might be too much; perhaps one in particular should be focused upon. One of the main colours in Terra's coat was red, and she had no consciousness of which hues might clash and which would be harmonious, so she glanced back at the tailor with the words "It is in your hands, of course, but what do you think might be a good colour for the patterns? Do you think perhaps red?" She only then realised how grateful she was that she had come here with a purpose, and her months of skirting around the scent of Strelein had paid off with no encounters whatsoever. Until now, but they had plenty to talk about, so so far she had managed to keep herself distracted from the strange anxiety he had arisen in her before. She was a master at mind-control - but only her own, of course - so found it perfectly easy to let that disturbing memory drift away, consciousness filling once more with only coats and colours, stitches and sequins and types of leather best for constructing bottle-carriers.

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Strelein von Rosnete · 01-24-2012, 08:14 PM

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I wish to slap you for your length because I read it all and groaned. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY.

Strel furrowed his brows and nodded along with puckered lips. Modestly, he shrugged, though a cocky grin slipped onto his lips. "I'm sure I've got enough skill for a spiral or two," he said with a chuckle. There was, perhaps, one or two modest bones in the gaudy man's body, though anyone looking for them was hard pressed to figure out which one it was. They had to be tiny bones, for his ego was enormous. It was bigger than his head and was like a balloon of pride. Once in the past, he had been far more modest in his makings. But the moment he passed from apprentice to skilled, he dropped the pretense and acted with a level of pride and bragging was included. Granted, he had had no right to act that way at first, but now he had nothing but pride in his head. Mated and with a successful job, on top of high rank, he was definitely in a very happy place.

While his studio had some of his better example, his upstairs closet was significantly better. It was filled with so many clothes ranging from women's skirts to a pair or two of extra jeans. Noss did not use his clothing, namely because the man preferred to go without more often, though he had been a mannequin often enough. There were pilfered shelves from Halifax made of wood with room for folded and hanging clothes. His bolts of cloth were up there as well, against the wall. A table had been set up there for sewing as well as use as a familial dinning table. Thankfully, they ate there infrequently and often cleaned quickly so there was little chance of damage to his precious, precious clothes. It was both a closet and a storage room for all his personal things. Noss had plenty of store room in the main bedroom, where the old human bathroom walls had been removed and the facilities removed and wooden boards was placed over the area to create more storage space.

The redhead snapped back to reality again, wondering why his mind was wandering so much at the moment. "I figure just using those light ones, so they can capture light better and not create a vomit of rainbows," he confessed crudely, shrugging as he looked at the sketch again. The lines were rough and there smudges where the woman's fingers touched the paper after being coated in charcoal dust. Forgetting himself, the Dauphin grabbed himself the moist rag in a small plastic tub and handed it to the woman so she might clean off her fingers.

"Red?" he mused, smiling slightly at the mention of the color. Red was one of his favorite colors, as was obvious in the hairstyle he always had. Henna dyed red hair was his distinct calling card and he flaunted the color often. It was his favorite and that was the way it was. But it may not have had a place here. "No.. I don't think so. I think perhaps white and gold colors instead? Red is a bit strange with this coat color being purple. If it was black, perhaps, but not with this," he said, shaking his head slightly. Pulling a red thread from the hooks, he placed the bobbin against the coat. It was alright but he could not see it working. "I don't think so.. what do you think?"

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-24-2012, 09:23 PM

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LMAO at "The redhead snapped back to reality again, wondering why his mind was wandering so much at the moment." xDD I can make Caspa do a tap dance or jump out the window and then we will have something to actually write about perhaps O_O Or... hmm, lemme see. -starts typing-

It seemed her imagination did not stretch as far as the courtly tailor's, as he could already see without trying that certain of the shades would - how did he put it? - capture light, and others create an unseemly colour explosion akin to bringing up bad food. These concepts were not things that she could get her pragmatic head around, so all she could do was nod sagely and hope she was not expected to pass comment. He looked pleased at the mention of red, which lifted her hopes for a moment, enough to forget about the damp rag she was supposed to be cleaning her fingers off with, instead letting it rest on the tabletop for a moment, unwittingly placing it down on top of her charcoal drawing which immediately began to soak into the cloth.

As far as colours went, Caspa liked red too. Red was a simple, basic, earthy colour - not the unassailable and ineffable blue of the sky, or the commonplace green of growing things. If she could ever get a handle on a colour, it would probably be red, the red of blood and of clay, the first primary colour and the first ring in the rainbow - a beginner's colour for sure. But it seemed even this advantageous shade was not the right one for the combination, as he made an alternative suggestion even while holding up a skein of the colour to compare. Caspa stared at it uncomprehendingly, having no idea what the whole would look like, with the patterns in the colour he was proffering except rather than being just a piece of thread, it would be an entire coat-worth of spirals and swirls. How could she conjure that into her imagination without seeing it for real? This was beginning to seem like real magic. But he'd asked her opinion, so she frantically scoured her mind for something to say. "It looks a little... strange," was all she could come up with. Of course, strange could mean just about anything. Every colour and decoration on a garment looked strange to her. Feeling she could do a little better, she moved closer and peered rather intently at the contrast, resting one long finger on the side of her chin in thought, before tearing a neat little strip of paper off the drawing and holding it up next to the red cotton. The white looked bold and bright against the purple, and she drew her hand back with a tiny flourish, "yes, you are right - white, and anything that shines like gold and silver," before to her dismay she realised she had smeared charcoal from her fingers and maybe even from the corner of the paper all along the side of his creamy fingers and hand. "I am sorry," she blurted, quickly catching up the cloth and dabbing to mop away any black marks she could find, before the smudge spread and made things worse. Little did she know she already had one long black line along her ivory jawbone where she'd placed a thoughtful finger, not to mention that the rag was half-black from where the ruined drawing had lain, so the more she rubbed the worse matters became.

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Strelein von Rosnete · 01-24-2012, 09:51 PM

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597
I lol so hard xD

It did look strange, didn't it? Strel eyed the color side by side and kept thinking. They didn't look bad but it was far too muted to work well together in the manor that Caspa wanted it to work in. A ripping sound caught his attention and the woman put a white piece of paper against the coat, beside the thread bobbin. Strel compared the colors together and had to admit he had been in the right. The red was going to be far too subtle against such a background. It was not dark enough and was tinted so it would was too muted, far too muted. The lighter white, kind of yellow, paper stood out sharply in relief to the purple coat. It was a lovely color and the tailor had other shades of yellow and white to use. The thread would make the design but the sequins and beads would do the eye catching. The sharp contrast would stand out and look lovely on the coat of purple. Yes, it would work!

He had not even noticed the dark smudges appearing on his lighter fingers, so engrossed was he in creative thought. Strel blinked absently at the woman as she apologized, mildly confused about what she was saying. It took him a moment to realize she was scrambling to clean off his hand from the marks made, though they somehow seemed to be getting even bigger and darker. "Oh.. that's alright," he said absently, wondering why she was halfway to panicking over a few little smudges. He got them all the time when he worked with charcoal and dyes. His lavender eyes watched the spectacle over his hand, amusement filtering into his look. It was rather entertaining to see her fumble with this, especially since it was obvious that the smudge was not going anywhere. It grew on his hand, and he thankfully moved it away from the coat.

Peering up, the Dauphin suddenly pulled his hand away from Caspa's ministrations and started laughing. Laugh almost sputtering as he tried holding it back, Strel pantomimed pointing at his chin, though he was sure the motion was lost among his twitches on account of the laughter. Snorting, and somehow getting the laughter mildly under control, he rummaged out a small hand held mirror. Shoving it in her face, he stuffed the mirror into her hands as he started laughing again. It was not as strong as before, though he was having a hard time stopping. When was the last time he had laughed so hard over something so terribly silly?

Laughter slowing, Strelein took the rag out of Caspa's hands and hung it before him. He snorted again as he saw the thick lines of charcoal on the rag. A glance at the drawing told him that it was ruined beyond repair and that the rag was now grey from residue. "Oh, lord, Caspa..," he said, voice full of laughter. He took the rag to the small tub and rubbed it in the water almost futilely. It was not coming off so well; a stronger wash was going to be needed but it was certainly useless now. "I think we need a new rag..," he said, almost sounding blank as he said it. Squeezing it out, he showed it to the white woman; it was now a much more grey color than before and the water in the tiny tub swirled black. "And your pelt is white," he said, grimacing, though all in good humor as he chuckled at the woman.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-26-2012, 06:06 AM

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Why did she only ever lose her cool around this man? she wondered to herself, and if the words were aloud they would have been a rare growl. Strelein didn't care at all about the smudges, but she felt a great urgency to remove them from the fawn-glove fur hands which had been pristine moments before. It took her a second because of her flustered countenance to realise that she really wasn't helping, at which point her hand retreated like a shot, like his hand had stung hers. He laughed at this - no, not at this, he'd already been laughing. What was the joke? Her dark eyebrows slanted inwards, puzzled and almost annoyed - but only by her own lack of understanding. He gestured towards his face, and now her brows rose almost into her plaits. Was he laughing at her face? Had he only just noticed her strange domestic features and decided to make a joke out of them? Caspa had no idea what was going on, but found a mirror being shoved into her hands, in suave substitution for the charred-up rag. She glanced bemusedly from it to the tailor, hoping desperately for some kind of hint as to what he was getting at. Did he want her to look at herself, to acknowledge the oddity of her own visage - did he think she'd never looked into a dark window, puddle or mirror before? But as she slowly and rather ominously raised the reflective glass to eye level, she saw the line of charcoal on her lower jaw and all became rather more clear. She gave a slow silent sigh, staring at herself: it seemed she had two new scars now, one on each side of the jaw. The one on the left side was a vicious and deeply-etched thing, black skin showing through white fur, extending right over her lip. The entire side of her chin had been split, and she was sure the bone had fractured too. If it wasn't for that, she would have gained weight this month, with her new determination to achieve some kind of physical size. Alas this aim seemed never to be realised, for chewing had become a nightmare and she still hardly dared to try it. So, she had retained her scarecrow figure, which was unfortunate, although luckily she had her longer fur to hide some of the jagged contours. The other 'scar' on the right side of her mouth, though, that was only charcoal and so impermanent, and she removed it now by licking her palm and rubbing it away. Turning the mirror a few times - it was a shame the other scar wasn't so easily erased - Caspa felt a jolt as her own sharp black eyes met their own gaze, and wondered if it was because of the strangeness of the sensation of looking into her own sightline, or whether everybody felt a similar sharpness from her glare. She supposed she would never know.

Strelein remarked they needed a new rag, and she turned to him, sweeping her eyes over the table, paper and rag as she realised what had happened. Then she noticed that there was even a black streak upon the fabric of the purple coat. She placed one of her less-stained fingers against it, white on black. "I am sorry for the mess, but look, the black makes a striking border for the white. Perhaps that could be a way to make the colours stand out even more..." She brought her hand back once more, feeling out of her depth now. "I will trust you to make all these decisions, though, for my taste is questionable." The hand which had attempted to clean his was still tingling, and refused to let her forget what had happened. Caspa was never embarrassed, not caring about how her manners came across, except when they ran contrary to her strict personal code, which was never. Except that now there was a discrepancy on the horizon, and she suddenly couldn't believe that she'd made it this far without panicking as she had before. Another girl would have longed - ached, even - to join in the laughter of the tailor, to cement their tentative bond as packmates and friends. Caspa, though, recoiled from the relaxed atmosphere, and suddenly wished only to leave, though a deep and animal part of her hated herself for this. "How long do you think the decorations will take?" she asked abruptly.

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Strelein von Rosnete · 01-26-2012, 04:27 PM

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I am so museless but must post ffff dilemmas dilemmas

There was no laughter from the other woman, and the man slowed his own. It was a bit daunting, the way it was so hard to get Caspa to laugh. Strangely, he wondered if he had offended by offering her the mirror. She had a scar on her face, sure, but the redhead rarely took such sights in anymore nor did he give them much thought or care. She was certainly difficult, not in manner and demeanor, but in actually attempting to make friends with her. She seemed so resistant to anything of the sort and it left the tailor feeling shunned and, quite frankly, incompetent. His feelings on the matter would fade quickly after the two of them parted, but he was so very curious as to why she was so resistant to his attempts at casual friendliness. He wasn't that offensive, was he? No, Strel's mouth might run away with him - though less now that he was the Dauphin and had to be a mediator more often - he doubted he had said anything offensive to Caspa yet.

The talk returned to the coat and the Dauphin gave a resigned sigh. So, if that was what the woman wanted, let it be. "Perhaps. I'll see what I can do with tester swatches, though I'm sure it'll turn out fine if we leave that mark there. It'd wash out in rain but I'm sure Terra won't wear it outside." The young woman seemed to dislike clothes in general so he was sure she would only use it as a costume. What a waste but the embellishments would make it too gaudy for regular use. "Of course. Leave it to me. It is my job, after all," he added with all seriousness. Whatever playfulness he had before faded back into his easy-going mannerisms. Though he took a note to behave seriously with Caspa as she did not seem to like the way he behaved with her. He treated everyone as a friend as best as he could, especially his subordinates.

A large amount of decoration would go into the making of this coat. Thankfully there was little to do other than sewing in the large amounts of pockets and then the decorations of beads and sequins. It would definitely not take a day, though he was sure he could do it in such a span if he was so hard pressed. Caspa seriously asked him just how long it would take him and the redheaded tailor stared at the coat silently for a moment. Honestly, he could do it in a day, but wanted more time so that he wouldn't bore himself and leave room for his duties. A week would suffice but there was a time limit at hand. Lavender eyes gravely looked at the white woman as he said, "When is the show?" It all depended on that for they would need at least one practice with the coat before they performed.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-26-2012, 05:51 PM

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OOC: She doesn't know but I do... the show will be about the 7th of February at the festival. It would be lovely if it could be finished by then =] Caspa isn't going to know when she's doing it until about a day beforehand, so if you think it would take longer we could have a thread where she has to rush over and ask for the coat early/take it not-quite-finished. But that might be awkward... although I suppose that might also be okay. o_O Anything you like is fine by mee <3

She knew she was an awkward character: but it was sometimes awkward to be her, too. When she had furthered her training far enough and gained the experience and full sobriety of age, she knew these things would be easier. For now, she still wore the habit of sanctity with novice shoulders. She had to be wary of it slipping, although most of the time her razor-edged personality kept anyone bearing temptation at bay. The Dauphin was dangerous, though, and not because she didn't like him, but because she liked him far too much and thus, she had to keep her guard raised. She would always be able to talk of important matters or business, and she was willing to work with just about anyone if circumstances called for it, but she could not allow a relationship with someone she admired so much to become too informal, too near to friendship: the risks were too great that her thoughts and heart would turn and ruin everything she had worked so hard for so far. One of the reasons he appealed to her was his damned good humour. In her life so far there had been little laughter, even with her littermates, but Strelein was always so free and easy with his smiles and chuckles.

Caspa wasn't sure the mark would last long, as they tended to practice outside, and she had no idea where their eventual venue would be. Probably all over the place, trying it out in different spaces and circumstances. Parts of it were almost like a spontaneous street show, and could fit any kind of arena from a grand theatre - there weren't many of those around, though - to a simple grass verge. She left it to him, though - as he said, it was his job. She wasn't expecting him to get it done straight away, of course. Doubtless the wolf had myriad other projects on the go and little spare time, plus there was also his leadership duty. She had been faintly surprised he'd even agreed to do it straight away, but that was just another mark of his affable personality. He answered her question with a question, one that she couldn't answer either. They had absolutely no idea when the performance would be; no date was set and they did not even have the choreography or logistics fully organised yet. They had only an idea, and the will to work on it and try to make something special, although neither of them had any experience in the field of show business so it was unlikely to be a simple process. "We have not decided," was all she could say. "So please, take as long as you need. If you like, I will just leave it here and you can let me know when it is ready?"

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr

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Strelein von Rosnete · 01-26-2012, 06:42 PM

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He should finish. I'll probably post a RO of him working on it (just to crap out more words xD). We could have the thread around the start of february (aka around like Feb 4ish) to give her it?

Strel gave her a curt nod, tapping long fingers on the table as he thought about the project under his nose. It was not an easy project, but it wasn't the hardest. The most difficult task he had been asked to undertake was where a man from Cercatori D'Arte had come to ask for a tuxedo for a wedding. It had been hard, and then the man had run out on his wedding, and the tuxedo. Strel still had the half-finished garment in his storage room, though it was gathering dust for lack of use. He didn't need it and no one else had so far been crazy enough to request something like that. If anyone did, though, he had one ready to go. Though, most would definitely require a tailoring session, or two, and a lot of cutting just to get it to fit. Shawchert had been a tall man and rather broad, taller than most Strelein had seen in his lifetime. Hopefully no one bigger came along. The redhead could almost shudder at the thought of a man taller and broader than Shawchert, who already towered over the Dauphin -- he wasn't even that short of a man, over seven feet as he was.

"It shouldn't take that long. It's just sewing on pockets and decoration," he said quietly, wondering why Caspa preferred to maintain a business facade with him. He was not that offensive, right? Regardless, Strel did not and would not press her for it unless it truly started to bother him. Likely as it was to bother him and weigh him down a bit, he knew that he could go elsewhere for consolation on the subject. "Yes, by all means, leave it here. I'll get it done as soon as I can." He waved a hand toward the empty makeshift mannequins with a light flourish, then sighed. "I have little going on, so it won't take too long. Hopefully." He was not yet sure just how much time and effort would have to be spent on the coat. Strel preferred not a lot though if it required most of his time, he would give it. He had promised to work on the coat and work on it he would. He leaned against the table, hand supporting him even as the table creaked in protest. "Make sure to let me know when the show is, though," he added with a light smile.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-26-2012, 07:35 PM

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OOC: lol I forgot to say that I mentioned somewhere else she traded a bottle of wine and left it outside his door some time late January, although she will be hunting for better stuff at the festival as it was quite weak Tongue the idea was 'just to keep him going', haha. You could put it in the read-only if you wanted? And yep any time around the 4th is good for me Big Grin

His voice had fallen imperceptibly, but she could only assume it was because he was considering in-depth and running through the process of decoration in his head: that was how Caspa got things done, anyway, by thinking them through first in great detail, almost technicolour mental images - and she was certainly not the most ebullient if interrupted in the middle of one of these trains of thought. It was good that she was not a mind-reader, for the thought that her distance made him consider whether he was at fault would have been distressing and made it even harder for her to keep up the chilly facade.

Everything was so very improvised about this show, nothing set in stone - how could it be with such a spontaneous star in the shape of Terra, and her stately sidekick, Caspa herself? They were a strange combination, really, and the finished result was either bound to be an unforeseen spark of greatness, or a jumble of confusion and madness. At least, to Caspa's mind, there was no way it would not be entertaining, and that was the main thing. She was rather looking forward to seeing the looks on watchers' faces when the Miracles pair rolled out their performance. Goodness knew what would happen, but the unpredictability of it was part of the fun, at least for her.

The man leaned forwards, and Caspa unconsciously mirrored his movement, turning to move a little way towards the exit, after politely clasping her hands together and bowing from the waist, a thank-you that she hoped would show in her eyes too - but then, she remembered, these were the same eyes that had even startled herself by their dark, pinpoint ferocity just minutes before in the hand-mirror. She would have to voice her appreciation properly, too, but just then Strelein made a comment about the timing of the show, and she hoped this meant he was considering attending. "But of course," she wanted everybody to come: that was the point, to tie it into some kind of evening or social event where it could be diluted by other entertainments and the cause of conversational matter and diversion for happy hours spent in one another's company - a true tie-building experience, the way she saw it, but perhaps she was being a little idealistic. "We would be honoured by your presence. Thank you for your time. I am certain Terra will share my gratitude when I surprise her with this coat, too... please try and hide it from her in the meantime, as she does not know where it is. I will return soon with my half of the bargain." Caspa bit her lip, hoping again she was not asking too much of him, then winced as her tooth caught the still-new scar. Mistakes, endless mistakes: when would she learn? For the silvery dog required nothing less than perfection from herself, despite the fact she was mostly tolerant of just about everybody else. Comforting herself with the thought that at least this encounter had fared better than their last, when she'd nailed a piece of leather to a table accidentally before walking out on him without a word of explanation, she turned and slipped from the room, to hurry back to her own bare and spartan quarters, to calm herself and gather her thoughts amongst the refreshingly austere and distraction-free surroundings.

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Strelein von Rosnete · 01-26-2012, 09:26 PM

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ooh okay i'll be sure to include that Big Grin

then it is a weird posting date!

Caspa gave him a bow, and the Dauphin merely nodded his head slightly in return. Red curls bobbed slightly with the motion. He was unsure why she made such an elaborate gesture of gratitude, when a smile and a thank you was more than he needed. Though, the brightly attired man did smile extravagantly at the woman when she consented. He was glad that, formal as she was, she was still giving him an invitation to their magic show. Why shouldn't he get one? He was helping with the costume work, of course he ought to go. Why should he not? "Thank you," he said evenly, smile weakening, though he could hardly keep it off his face. It was just unnatural for him to be moody and depressed - okay, a lie but it was uncommon now when he had little to be sulking over. Things were going his way for once and he could hardly believe it himself. There was nothing to grumble about, nothing bad, and everything was going well. Strel was a happy man and he refused to think of a future without the easy contentment he felt now.

Chuckling, the Dauphin assured her gently, "Of course I'll hide it. I won't spoil it for her. I know she'll like it. She'll be happy you thought of her so well." There was some level of wisdom in his head, young as he was, and old as he was. Strel was no young man anymore. He was still in his prime, but his wild ruckus days were behind him, much to many people's relief. How long had it taken him to settle down properly? Too long. It had been a year, two years, of struggling to settle down with the right man, who took forever to come along, he would add. For now, he was set on becoming the Dauphin with all the pomp and wisdom he'd need, even if most of it was on what not to drink and how much not to drink. He waved her away as she started to leave, wondering why she was in such a hurry to escape him. Strel listened to her rush back to her room with a chuckle as he picked up the sopping wet piece of sketch paper. It dripped slightly, and the redhead simply tossed it behind him into a plastic bucket with a slapping sound.

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