sswm - 428
Strelein



Mati had been waiting for this day. A day where the sun did not hide from her, a day where the clouds were thin and light and did not mask its glow. The young woman carried a bucket, a few gallons large, with the supplies that she wished to bring from her studio. Her favorite brushes, her pallet, a flat knife. All clunked around in her bucket as she traveled from her home to the lands of her brother and friend Strelein. For once in her life she traveled to the Cour des Miracles center, and not in the search of Haven. It was odd at first, when she did not head for his cabin, but for the hotel instead. But she was excited at the prospect, and could hardly wait to get started on the mural that Strelein had asked her to do.

She had the image of the painting in her head since she had met him. It played in her dreams, spoke to her the moment her eyes closed. It danced over her eyes as she blinked, the landscapes of the city and ocean calling with their colors of dark and light clashing. If she didn’t put the image to a canvas of sorts she was sure that her mind would melt from the intensity bottled inside.

As she walked she wondered how many windows he had, how much light would be given to her and what conditions his wall were in. thinking back to the day in the hardware store Mati remembered the supplies that they had collected and figured that had what she would need. Though Strelein would not be without a bit of painting himself, she would need assistance with certain things, and if he wanted a painting then he would have to help. The tall female strode towards the large building, her eyes roaming the roof, the windows and the long structure. A shutter or two were crooked, and the paint was peeling in more then just a few placed. But all was to be expected in a place this old.

There were large doors that led her into the hotel’s lobby, and in an instant the Dreamer was lost. She rested the bucket on a cushions seat that stood beside a rack that she figured maybe for a human’s coat. Violet eyes looked around the room, seeking any sign of her friend. Taking up her bucket once more Mati Church picked a corridor and made her way down it. Eyes danced along the doors, and her voice called lightly, “Strel?”

558



Strel and Mati had set up an agreement to paint the room when the light was good. But the clouds and snow made it difficult to find a good day. To do any kind of project that required the proper light was difficult in this world without electric light. Humans could flip a switch and the light would be uniform for hours at a time. The pair of them would have to wait for the winter weather to be forgiving. Somehow, the redhead had thought the day would never come. The redhead knew that he would have to wait for it to come around, as it naturally would, but all that while he had been so incredibly impatient. He had taken a charcoal crayon of sorts and marked and remarked where he thought the mural would go. He would bring in some snow in a bucket and used the melted water to scrub off the light smudges of black only to create more in a few moments. Yet, lo and behold, the morning dawned surprisingly bright and clear, clouds still dotting the skies in random patterns. No doubt they would thicken again later in the day to a more consistent mass of vapor.


Now on that day, which had woken the redhead with the sunshine from the window, Strel had gotten up to begin to prep the room. First of all, he made sure the smudges were all gone and that the water did not stain the walls or damage them. Then he proceeded to drag out the pile that served as a bed to another room, his studio on the main floor, folding the large pieces cloth into manageable stacks. While he had been at it, the man gave the ones that needed a washing a good bath, though he did not bother to use soap. He planned on using soap when it was warmer perhaps, if he even chose to use it. Strel did not really want to find a way to dispose of water filled with soap chemicals without polluting the water sources. He figured there could be a way to simple let the water evaporate and see what happens. But that was not something to do in the winter, where water could stay a frozen block in a bucket.


His name echoed through the hall, and the redhead popped his head out of the door frame to the sewing material filled studio. "Mati? he called back, walking down the hall to the lobby. Clearly, the Church woman had gone down the opposite hallway, going in the wrong direction. Strel twitched his ears in the direction of the receding footsteps. Then he caught a glimpse of the Crimson Dreams female. "Mati! There you are." The redhead jogged the last few meters, taking the bucket from Mati's hands. They were on Cours lands again, and gentlemanly manners were a must, at least in his mind. "You were going the wrong way, missy," he said with a laugh. "My room is in the other direction, closer to the end over there." He turned around, set on leading the woman to the correct room. Strelein wanted to get started as soon as possible, so that they could try to have less to do tomorrow or the next time if things took too long and the light had passed.

sswm - 340
:]



Thankfully the tall Dreaming wolfess had not chosen to bring more then she had. The bucket was now beginning to feel a bit heavy as she roamed down the hallway slowly. Her eyes were looking for signs of her friend, but they also looked at everything else in the hotel. She was beginning to really understand what a hotel was, the rooms all the same, numbered, the wallpaper peeling at the corners, the empty light sockets that hung on the walls. It was all different and intriguing. She wondered what sort of humans had come to stay with in the walls. What had it been that they were hoping to visit? Were they families with bundles of pups or just couples seeking solitude? Could they be hoping to see the beast that was not too far from where she stood? Mati understood that they enjoyed the beach, mainly in the summer months, having read a few things and seen many paintings of small children playing in the sand.

While she dazed into the flowered wallpaper she heard her name being called. Once, and then twice she head it and then turned to find the red headed male moving towards her. Mati smiled, happy to finally have found him, or that he had found her. Of course she was traveling in the wrong direction. Feeling the heat of embarrassment on her face she spoke, “I just had to go roaming around.” She explained with humor in her voice. Laughing lightly she began to follow the male. “I hope that no one cared.” She didn’t know how many lived in the hotel, or if she could have disturbed any cranky beast. What if it had been their leader? Mati did not know much about him, save a few tid-bits of information that Haven may have given her. But she was not one to hope to find and disrupt an alpha’s rest or reflection. The female horridly matched Strel’s strides and also matching his hope in getting to work as soon as possible.

638
starts out rambly because I had a grandparent hover over me, trying to talk as I typed


Once upon a time, there had been humans here, just as they had been everywhere else in packs and droves. They flocked, like fluttering parrots, chattering and squawking at everything they saw. Or the redhead had been told as much. The Chien Hotel, heyday long gone as it was, stood as a testament to the nature of those vacationing people, their helpful natives and their housing, and of a style that was gone with the bodies now fertilizing the earth beneath their feet. Those vacationing people had come here in their little family units, much smaller versions of the packs of wolves. Their pups, the children, would tug on their parents' hands down the hall, eager to splash in the chilly Atlantic waters and bury their fathers in their synthetic swimming trunks in sand warmed by a Canadian summer sun. Parents would go to the city for shows, shops, and restaurants. So much available to them! And all the while, the more acutely aware of them would observe the buildings they entered, noting when they were most likely built and the style of them. Spreading out from Halifax, the building styles changed in a strangely radial pattern, with clumps of buildings in similar architectural types in those rings. Some were homes and some where spots for the foreign humans to have a place to stay while they visited the area. That was another marvel of the humans; they could go anywhere they wanted in so little time. Cars, boats, and airplanes simply made every single part of the globe available. Everything was available to the Luperci, but the effort to get there was nothing short of difficult and long.


With his free hand, Strelein waved off the Church woman's comments. "No, no, I don't think they'd mind, especially if they knew you were here as a guest. We're supposed to be polite to guests, you see. Elsewise there is no point of us being a court," he said as he strolled down the opposite hall, passing his studio, his bed of cloth stacked in neat piles against the wallpapered wall. The lute and carrying bag were laying underneath the dark wood table and against the legs. The said table had been organized and the thread and needles on the chandelier were properly secured and neatly ordered once more. There were no active projects on the makeshift mannequin or the chair, so clearly the redhead had not started any more clothes since setting his mind to focus on the mural. Then, rounding a corner all of a sudden, the man climbed two short flights of stairs to the second floor of the hotel. A few meters from the landing of the stairs was an open doorway with light illuminating the dust in the air in the hallway.


"I started clearing out my room of my bed coverings and my other possessions. Think we'll need to find some dust clothes or something to cover the one dresser and the mattress?" he asked Mati as he placed the bucket just outside the open doorway. A chilly breeze wafted out of the room, for the male had opened the window in hopes of airing it out and letting the musty smell of winter out. Now it was cold, but at least it seemed much fresher than before. Strelein shut it with a quick click, grunting as he slid the window down with effort. "There," he said, clapping his hands together as he turned around to hopefully see Mati. The room itself was not covered in wallpaper, for the male had tried his hardest to strip it of the disgusting peeling thing with the water stains from a long gone era. "Will it do?" His tone was nervous as he rubbed his hands together to gather warmth from the cold pane of glass.

300+
i liked it!


As long as she wasn’t in the wrong place and making others upset. The Church woman wasn’t about to being barging through doors and screaming wildly, but she still would rather not disturb anyone. It wasn’t everyday, but once in a while there might be a disturbance in the Manor that reached her ears behind her closed door. Mati understood what it felt like to be waken from a deep state of concentration. But Strel calmed her nerves, and the brown wolfess smiled at his kind words. He was always nice to her, even when she had been cold at their first meeting. Following closely, her violet eyes danced over the accents that fashioned the hotel and she stopped to look at the work stance that had been set up. Eyes grew wide. It was so big, open and with enough room for everything he needed.

She moved hastily to catch him as he walked up the stairs, walking though the doorway behind him. It was brisk, but the air clean with the sparkling hint of dust. As he moved to the window to close it, Mati had walked to the open wall. It was large, and she already had her hand placed on the wall wen he addressed her. It was rough, but only in a few spots. Thankfully she did not shy away from texture, as a normal wall painter might. Eyes ran along the crease where ceiling met wall, down the middle and to the floor. It was larger then she had expected, but the artist did not find it intimidating. She took a few steps back, eyes not leaving the canvas. “It will.” she answered, a smile toying with her once serious face. Finally she turned to the male and then looked at the furniture. “We better cover them, and move them away from the wall.” She could not guarantee that anything would be safe once she got started.

503
Grats on the SoSuWriMo also, hope it was okay that I said they kept the paint at his place.


Nodding, the redhead shot out of the room and back down the stairs, the wooden boards beneath his feet creaking all the way. He returned a few moments later with a couple of folded sheets in his arms. All of them were from the pile that was bed, though what he figured was that he could afford to lose a couple of them; there were too many as it were. Those in his hands were the oldest ones, the ones that were soon to be thrown out anyway. Dropping all the cloth onto the mattress with a dull thump, he moved to pull the almost completely empty dresser into the middle of the room, right next to the bed which had been pushed away from the walls earlier. Unfurling a creme colored length of cloth, the redhead draped it over the dresser, making sure that the length of it would cover everything from the top down to the floor. The second covered the lone mattress, and the other two would go to lay on the floor around the wall they would work with.


"Are two of these to use tarps, okay? I figure getting the hardwood stained with paint would be bad." Maybe one day he would go find some varnish for it so that it would shine once more with no more scuff marks. The last lengths of cloth fluttered to the floor with Strel's feet adjusting their positioning with ease. Mati was checking the walls, and it seemed all the bumps on it would be easy to ignore or fix since she did not express any concern over their presence. He did not see how they could fix them, since he had no idea how the humans had done it in their day. Oh well, if the Church woman could work with it, then there were no problems to get worked up about. Strelein had confidence in her ability as a painter, so she surely would inform him if there were issues with the walls they would be painting upon shortly.


Turning to face her, smile everlasting on his face, the redhead asked, "So what is our plan of action? What shall we start with?" A few footsteps took him toward a small closet on the opposite wall. Opening the cracked door revealed all the paint they had scavenged from the city of Halifax and one of its unlucky hardware stores. All of it was there, cans stacked on cans on the bottom of the closet. Strel had risked a couple of cans on the shelves, but fear of them cracking and breaking under the pressure had let him to pull them out and stack them in his studio so the cans could be stacked instead. Hopefully nothing was missing from his store of the stuff. "And what do you think we should do with this door? Paint over it?" he asked as he started pulling cans out to the middle of the room, beside the bed, two at a time.

500
oh thanks, & your almost there!! (stalks, a lot)


Mati was left with the wall, alone, for a brief moment. Purple eyes looked over it, a few feet away so that the entire length was in view. Alone in the silence she sought out the voice that might just call from the enlarged canvas. She needed it to speak to her, as everything she created always did. At what time it might was always different, many times it was in the midst of the creating process, others not till the end. It was a soft voice, a tickling of her heart and calmed any nerves that might have been feeling. It told her not to worry, or it told her to keep moving forward. The voice wasn’t always the same. At times it was her teacher, others her own. Her mothers spoke to her, her pack mates, her alpha. And some times it was a voice she had never heard before calling her to not give up or asking, demanding, pleading for her to put pencil to paper or brush to canvas.

She heard no voice, the blank wall asked for nothing. It simply didn’t know what it wanted, or expected from the young woman.

Her thoughts were broken as he approached, sheets in hand and moving the furniture. Mati grabbed hold of the corners of the sheets, helping him cover the furniture. She knew that the paint might get out of control, dripping everywhere. She was not the neatest painter as her own floors were splattered and furniture dotted with drops and decorated with fingerprints. “Definitely, unless you want it to look like mine. I gave up on coverings a long time ago.” Mati spoke with a smile and a small laugh that hid among the words.

Turning back to the wall she cocked an ear towards the redhead, answering him as she went to the bucket that she had brought. “I’ll sketch it out,” Mati began as she pulled a piece of chalk from the pack as well as a heavy piece of paper from the bucket. “loosely.” Returning to stand before it Mati saw the composition that had been brewing in her mind for ages, and had finally come to true concrete form just days before. The picture was of a city that vaguely drifted into a beach, no details, no colors. Eyes lifted, looking at the door. “Yes,” she agreed, thinking of the composition that would flow onto it. “Will you mix the darker blue, and the red? While I sketch out the buildings first. The sky will need to go in first, and then the buildings, and then the plants and forest on top of that.” She pictured a dark sky around the edges of the wall, deep with blue and purple, turning into the light of day that surrounded the city and the nature that battled against it. “White, too.” She requested. ”Just mix them with one of the painters sticks.” She explained as she put the chalk to the wall and started.

702
just a bit under 10k left x___x


Snorting softly, the redhead adjusted an eggshell cover's edges, smoothing out the surfaces in his neurotic tendencies with cloth. Content it was smooth, his focus shifted to completely take in the wall behind Mati as well as her facial features and expressions. Even though he had no idea what the Church woman's floors looked like after however long she had been painting for now, he still sounded as though he knew it well enough to comment. What he imagined was a room with drops of color dotting the floors everywhere, with smudges and long streaks of it. Perhaps it was her tone that led his imagination to imagine those streaks being accidental large swipes of a paintbrush, leaving scratchy paint marks everywhere in the colors of many flowers. "Puh-lease. If it makes my room look far less like a tomb getting ready for the memorial gild, I would gladly take a horde of puppies running in here and rolling around with paint on their backs. I wouldn't offer to wash their fur clean for their mothers, but still," he drawled, turning slowly to take in the bareness of his off-white walls. "I think I'd even let a rampaging moose in here to make some artistic holes in the wall." When Strelein faced the Crimson Dreams female once more, he had a bright look on his face, much like he always did.


Strel could only blink at her requests, wondering how important his task was supposed to be. But the rest of her words jogged his brain into action, letting his feet do the same as he pulled the two requested colors out of the dusty closet. Wiping off the tops of both with the back of his hands, Strel set them near one another near the other four that had already been moved to the middle, but were now pushed a bit further away to make room to work. "Just mix them, right?" he questioned, hoping that she did not mean for him to pour one into the other to create a purple (he DID know basic color theory) since he doubted the stuff in the cans was good for mixing. Plus they already had a nice purple in the closet underneath a golden color. With her confirmation, he reached for the bucket the female had brought with her. Fumbling around in the bucket, Strel pulled out two large wooden mixing sticks that were kind of flat. With them, he swirled the thick, viscous paint, glad to find that it was still smooth after being in the cans for who knew how long. Guess the stuff was meant to least. Or the chemicals were simply so very hardy and cohesive.


"So painting is sort of like sewing, I guess. Or maybe it's the other way around." His words were sudden, out of nowhere as his hand stirred the red, having finished the blue. His free hand was on his thigh as he sat on his covered bed. Strel's lavender eyes peered at the Church woman's back, head cocked a bit as he observed her. "I mean, you need the materials first like anywhere else, but the way you do it is sort of similar," he added, only really half clarifying his previous words. The red was done and felt just fine so the redhead moved on to the white color he had been also asked to stir. "You start from the back and go forward. I have to do the same, otherwise it'll turn out, if you pardon my French, like a piece of shit," the redheaded finally stated, cursing at an old memory of a first attempted piece of clothing. From what he recalled, it was supposed to be a shirt. Or was it a hat? No, no, it had to be a pair of gloves. Whatever it was, it had been a better lesson than a wearable garment. Or an identifiable one.
"I can't thank you enough, Mati."Strel proceeded to shut his flapping lips, content to watch the masterpiece that would be his own personal mural unfold before his very eyes. A content smile played on his face, reaching into his eyes.


Actually, it might have been a vest.

500
go go go go !!




Paw prints of puppies, drops, spatters, dribbles, streaks and splashes. They were all there on the ancient hardwoods of decade and decades past. Her mother had commented once on the trees that had to die to make the floors she cared so little about, but Mati did care for them. She had tried in the beginning, but once the paint had gotten out of hand she had found it a beautiful mess, as unique as any abstract. His comment brought a wide smile to her face, and she laughed at his words and the images of paint covered puppies and high-kicking moose running though the Hotel and into his room. Her laughter took over and she couldn’t even respond to the ridiculous notion. Shaking her head, at the ideas as well as how humorous she found them Mati placed the chalk to the wall and started her sketch.

The chalk raked across the wall, the lines thin and light. She moved it over the small line a few times, finding where she wanted it to be and then darkening it with quick motions of her wrist. The first building came to a dusty and crude life when she answered, “Yes, just to get the pigment mixed through the paint.” She knew that the actual color could settle or not be spread evenly throughout the base white paint. As he opened the cans she could instantly smell the paint. They would need to open the windows again, once it started to be placed on the walls, if they didn’t want to get stoned off the fumes. Working quickly the Church girl turned her ear to take in him words.

Listening, she first did not understand how they were so similar. But as he explained she came to understand how they were indeed quite the same. The tree line came to life, below the roofs of the buildings but the line sloped upwards towards them as if ready to engulf it. Chuckling slightly she commented, “The ground work is very important, just like the materials. I can imagine that it was all a lot better when the stuff was new.” the paint wouldn’t last forever, and when it was fresh she was certain that it smelled better, and worked easier in mixing and layering on the canvas. At his next spoken thought Mati took the chalk from the wall, and turned to look at the male. She smiled softly, “You welcome Strel.” her voice was soft and honest. She looked back at the wall, knowing that he was not the only one to be grateful that they had met and that this project had started.

“I’ve never known anyone who likes stuff like this as much as I do. Except Honore.” Mati paused, trying to find the right words. Eyes glanced over the lines that she had drawn, a finger reaching out to erase a stay mark as she spoke with hesitation fringed on the edges of her words. “I should be the one, thanking you.”

1062
c:


As if reading the Church woman's mind, the redhead shook his head after having his nose hovering over the open paint. It was old paint, to be sure, but the fumes were still potent enough to knock a wolf that was not wary out like a smoked up pothead. Sniffing the stuff for the past few minutes was just enough to give the chevalier a slightly fuzzy view. Perhaps the stuff grew more potent fume wise and weaker color wise. But the brightness of the tints still seemed to be just as full and clear as they had been in the prime. Then again, Strelein did not know what it was like when the shopkeeper first put it on the shelf with the other brand name cans. Could they have been better? Brighter? What did it matter? As long as it worked and did the job, there should be no problems here. If there were, the redhead would not feel too terrible about it, despite it meaning another trip to Halifax to find colors of the same or similar name and type. Otherwise, it did not seem to be too much of a pain. Were these feelings of near intoxication the same feelings those on weed got? Was this the same high they experienced? The same mellow? Strel did not really feel mellow; he felt just a bit dizzy.


The most drug related thing that the redhead had done was drink some booze at a celebration with the pack down in a cave by the sea. The second occasion had been with Rurik and it had been a sample of some vodka, which he had never tasted before, obviously. Strelein had never had any of the smoked, injected, or eaten drugs that he had heard of once upon a time in Toronto, though some sounded appealing enough to attempt. Without anyone he could trust completely, he would not risk a single one of them; he did not need some freaks stoned out of their minds shaving him. And shaving him in places he wanted to keep covered in case he chose to walk around without his pants on. Plus having weird shapes on his back where there should be hair would not really appeal to potential friends. What kind of person in their right mind would easily trust a guy with a penis shaved onto his back? It would be funny, but Strel would never live it down. And never take his pants or vests off until all of it grew back again.


Sighing, he got up and away from the paints to watch Mati sketch, sitting down a bit behind her. "I guess we just need to make do with the stuff left behind. I think what's here is still pretty good considering how old some of it has to be. Older than you or me, come on," he laughed, crossing his feet underneath him and leaning in on his hands. "We're using things probably four or five times our ages combined and then doubled, Mati. Doesn't that just make you feel so youuuung?" he inquired, tilting his head and straining his neck to see around the Church woman's body. The mural's sketch was coming along well and the grin on his face reflected his eagerness and excitement. "I also feel kind of stupid sometimes, but I think that's probably got to do with something sort of different," Strel added lightly, finally having enough of just watching his walls slowly gain the shell of their future glory.


With a slight groan and a dusting off, the redhead grabbed a piece of chalk from the woman's bags (without asking her of course), and went to the opposite side of the wall. Practically dropping himself down in the corner, he looked at it, wondering how far he could push his rather limited drawing skills. This would be a corner of the beach scene he had suggested, but now it would have some additions that he had not told Mati about. Strel hummed for a bit, letting his song-like noise echo in the room. The chalk scrapped against the wall behind him while the piece in his fingers rested against the blank canvas. Pink tongue stuck out as he thought, tapping the wall lightly, breaking a small piece of the utensil off.


Nothing to do but try, he thought, as the chalk moved lightly across the area closest to him. The chevalier tried to do his best by going with broad strokes on those big background details, which he knew attempting would cause a series of giggle fits on his own part and then shame at the skills they were done. So Strel simply gave some basic knowledge as to where everyone was. Then he focused, and boy did he focus. A few figures took shape on the beach, which it really did not resemble just yet, one building a sandcastle that looked like a bobbin or something else oddly shapped; the other was standing next to something that looked like a letter 'A', holding something in her hand. They were stick figures, but it was the very best that the redhead was going to be able to do without making a face look like a dried out coconut that had been hammered and then pieced back together. Maybe Mati would be kind enough to fix the details later?


The bodies of the creatures on the beach were like gourds, with dots for eyes and a line for the mouth and two triangles just sticking out of the gourd. The bodies were straight lines with sticks coming out of it for the arms and legs, and a strange squiggly line with small spikes for the tail. Were these supposed to be the two of them? he wondered to himself, squinting to see some sort of resemblance. Shaking his head, Strel added a couple of dots around the sandcastle builder for the necklace around his own neck. Maybe that would help. Maybe it would just make Mati laugh harder. "Mati, I hope you know that I am going to be really useless on painting on details that aren't sketched there..," he warned in a low voice, almost a whine, as he brushed away a mistake. He knew that he shouldn't have, but he was a perfectionist at times and it was kicking in just then.

sorry for the wait ><;;




As the smell filtered into the room Mati slowly became adjusted to it. She was not one to dabble in alternatives to fresh air and clean water. Haven had shown her what drinking could do to someone, and the hole that could be dug so deep it was almost impossible to climb out of. Her own mother had shown her the harm drugs could do, and the pain that could be brought upon those around her. Mati didn’t want to be part of that destruction. The pot she had smoke led to an experience that the Church woman had shut away in the back of her mind, and Mati didn’t think she would do that ever again. So the fumes might have played their game on her mind, but she ignored the potential and simply got used to the smell.

Working with the chalk on the wall so harshly led to her wearing it away, the woman threw the nub to the ground and took another from the package. Her eyes left the sketch for only a moment before her hand went to work. Mati never stayed too long at any one spot. For a minute she stepped towards the one side, sketching a general line for the horizon on the beach and transition that would come from the one picture to the other, then moved right back to the other side to work on the buildings. “I don’t know…” She trailed as she thought of all that he spoke, “Do you think that we will ever be like that? With cities and lights and weapons and wars?” It was a hard question to ask, heavy and serious. But of course they had their cities, the had their own lights and weapons and war. Nothing like the scale that the humans had owned, but still in their own way. Would it get the large and so out of their control that they would perish as the humans had?

Strel moved to her side, chalk in hand and the Dreamer watched him out of the corner of her eye. Not hoping to look over his shoulder or question his ability, Mati concentrated on her own lines, though she was eager to know what his mind was brewing on the wall. It wasn’t until he spoke up that she turned to face the things he had added. She smiled slightly, the grin cocked to the side and obviously unsure. “Maybe I could do that part.” She spoke as she looked at the bulbous shaped creatures with pointed horns. She stifled a giggle, knowing that Strel must have tried his hardest, and did not want to hurt his feelings. Each one was detailed with all their accessories, most that would not come out once the painting began.

300+
Sorry, was a bit burned out xD


Lips a flat line, the redhead shook his head solemnly, not knowing if the Dreamer saw the motion. Strel did not know what would be in the future. Rarely did he look further than a week or two, never caring to wonder what would be when the years passed and he turned gray and old. Such thoughts had no place with a person whose life was in the present. That was all he could live as. The future could look dreary, distant, and harsh. The past was sepia toned at best, an almost unnaturally clear blur. The chevalier was not a retrospective kind of guy, nor was he the type to look warily to the future. If things could not be done in the present, then the very near future would give more chances to fix things. Sure, he did hope for the best, but there was no need to sit and putter about the details. It would all come in time as they needed to appear.


"I don't want to think about it like that. Just gotta hope for the best. So I guess I'll hope we'll learn something from this all. Their mistakes can be our lessons," he said with slightly serene smile twisting onto his lips. The woman could not see the look in his eyes as he wiped away a mistake (compared to the rest of his chicken scratch art). Something about creating was so appealing, calming even. It was a positive outlet that could let a person vent out whatever he or she wanted without harming another soul. There was no massive pecuniary price to be paid when lives were lost when a being lost his or her cool and went on a slaughtering rampage or started some cursed war. "Lights, maybe. A city lit up with color in the middle of the night. Dancing in the squares as fountains splash. Ah.. What a sight it would be." This was a dream that would take a long time to figure out, even with those that could read the readable remains of the humans.


Laughing slightly, the redhead laid down the remains of his chalky material. The dust had settled on his legs in a light coating and had covered his palms and fingers with the color as well. "I daresay it'd be a magnificent idea. I'm not cut out for all these little detail things," he confessed, rising to abandon his corner drawing. Hopefully, Mati would fix that corner when she came to it, since it seemed a shame to leave it as it was. It was nothing but funky looking palm trees and stick figure lollipops. "What do you need me to do Mati? Something I will not completely butcher, perhaps?"

oh no worries, i know that feeling :]

Mati lived too much in the before and the next. Her heart was forever wishing for something more, hoping for a brighter future. She wondered often what might come her way, and thought heavily on the things that had already crossed her path. Like the night in the city, sitting beside and sharing a joint with the Inferni member. It was a memory that brought a mixed feeling to the violet eyed female, something that was unsettling and yet oddly exciting. She wondered if she would ever see Rikka again, and when she did her conscious would bash the bit of hope that was wrapped around the idea and ground it back into the shadows of her mind. What Strel said was pertinent to her misguided memories, and she nodded softly at the idea. It was time to learn from her mistakes, and the mistake of others. Working on the proportions of the buildings she found her jaw clenched and the vision that he spoke dancing in her mind. When it was perfect, or near enough to it she relaxed and smiled at his idea,
“I can see you dancing in the middle of the street.” Her imagination ran with the vision of the male dancing though the lights of a square so bright with colored lights that he would almost pale in comparison. If such a thing was possible with Strel. She of course would never dance through anything, not where someone might see her.

As she looked at his drawings, Mati was sure that she would be able to add what he wished but the details would be lost in the rest of the painting. With such a large piece the eye would need to be drawn from one end to the other, details such as that would be second to the flow that she would need to create. Though, small surprises were always exciting to place and find in such a big picture. At his question she stepped back to look at the wall, finding that there was no time like the present,
“Guess we should get started.” Nothing really began until color was present, or so Mati thought.
“Why don’t you put the first layer of blue along here and I’ll work on getting all the buildings painted.” She spoke as she pointed to the sky area above the beach. Lighter blues and white would be needed to blend into the base sky blue color, but she was certain he could get the first layer on.

300+
/spams with more apologies


He nodded, knowing well that his skills were not the dominant ones here and that it was best to listen to the woman's directions. What was there not to trust? It was not like she was going to make him invert his colors because he was going to blindly follow her instructions. "Yes, ma'am," he confirmed with a grin. Strelein rose up from the drip cloth covered floor, looking for the paint roller brush that Mati had selected from the hardware store days ago. Fumbling with the thing, since the brush part had not been put on the spinning roller yet, the redhead managed to get it to work with a soft click. Selecting one of the containers for paint and a bucket of blue, he went to the side that the Church woman was not going to work. After pouring in the old paint into the tray and dipping his brush into it [and, of course, getting rid of some of the dripping excess paint], the Cour des Miracles male put it up to the wall, rolling it across it deliberately.


Several trips from tray to wall later and the first side of the rectangular room had a single coat of the blue. Because the woman told him he ought to get the first coat on, he figured he out to leave it at one and move on to the other sides. All this painting was fun, though it grew dull after every run of the roller. "Have you done anything new lately, Mati? Any brilliant bursts of pretty painting?" questioned the redhead, not taking his lavender eyes off the walls, paint, and roller. There was no need to ask her if she was getting any of her current duty done, since he doubted the woman was a slacker with art at hand. "How's everything in your home going?" Small talk was nice; it made this seem completely normal, like they did this on a daily basis rather than almost never.

not to worry! <3

Mati went to the paint cans, choosing a few colors from the rest. It was hard to work with such large amounts of paint, the heavy cans and the trays were difficult to handle. But she got used to it quickly, keeping an eye on Strel every once in a while to check his progress. It was his room, and his mural, but the Dreamer would not be able to live an extra moment if she thought that the picture was not perfect for him. Thus she would simply keep an eye on her helper and commissioner. He was doing well, adaptive as he was to her every instruction Mati was not entirely surprised. Her own hands mixed a muted dark tone, and the large brush guided her along the lines that she had sketched until they were covered completely.

His question brought her purple eyes away from her work, thinking about what she had been working on and what was nagging at her creative muse. it was an odd notion, just as she thought this picture was. A random (seemingly random) thought that generated a picture of a Optime female, standing in a doorway with her back to Mati's mind and her face in a downward profile. it had stuck with her, yearning to be placed on paper and now as she thought of it her brush veered off into a space that was designated from another shade of color. "I've been concentrating on this for some time now. But I have a few things in the works. One is of the house my pack lives in." The Dreamer commented, seeing the painting that she had begun months ago and hated so much that she swore never to finish it. But it was more appropriate then her other idea, and far less confusing.

"Home is good. Everyone is worked up about the tensions in Inferni and Dahlia, but no real threats." Mat added in a casual tone, not having worried about the threat of war long after Savina's announcement. "Have you been making anything?" She wondered, her brush moving along to blend colors as she saw fit and creating the cityscape.

300+
QQ it's hard to progress this thing with Strel because he can't paint xP;


Strelein had been fascinated by the fact that an image could be transferred onto paper or canvas or any other material. Naturally, when he encountered the old yellowing magazine pages and photos, he had been astounded by them. When he found out about painting, while uninterested, the idea of it still fascinated him to some extent. There it had been more of the creative process that was painting rather than putting something on canvas. An image projected onto a surface from nothing seemed extraordinary, but that could have been his inability to paint at all. He could imagine cloth sitting on a dummy or draped elegantly on a body, but a whole scene? Not even his overactive imagination could do much about it.


The sky was completed as best as the redhead could do and there was not he could do unless Mati gave him more directions. So, idle, he stirred some paint after moving to sit on the creaky mattress. He watched the way her hands moved to create the scape, gaping in wonder at her. "It is so amazing that you can do this, Mati. I'm impressed that you can pull something from your head and slap it on my walls like it's no big deal," he praised, lavender orbs trailing the strokes. The imagined world was slowly coming to life and it was all because of the Church woman and her amazing skill. "I'm sure that painting isn't too hard, since you've got a visual in front of you?" It was more of a question since the concept was very alien to him.


Then, jaw clenching slightly at the thought of the Inferni coyotes. It did not matter that Jacquez was siding with them personally since the kingdom was to be neutral, but something about letting in confused killers bothered the redhead. All after an accidental meeting with one who had tried to attack the redhead but then gave up for some strange reason. Snake was not bad, but there was questions revolving him and Strel did not want to get involved in a war he would die in. Relaxing, he leaned back thinking of what he had done since their last meeting. "I customized a pair of pants for Rurik, worked on a dress for Alaine, a girl in Cours, which I need to finish, and am working on another pair of pants for Daisuke, who is out in the loner lands." Somehow, that seemed like nothing despite the amount of work needed for the dress. Oh well. "Tell me I can go finger paint in the corner because it's part of your artistic vision, Mati dear?"

lets wrap it up, and then maybe have another? there is no harm in that ;D

Mati simply worked, her eyes and brush dancing over the wall. Evey now and again she moved backwards to take in the entire piece and then moved in to another place to build the mural further and further outward from the center. She had held this picture from some time, and once she knew that there would be an outlet for it, a large one at that, Mati have built upon that idea more and more. It resulted in the concentration and the vision that Strel commented on. "Its been in there for a while now." She said facing the wall, the blunt end of her brush tapping her temple for a moment. His next comment made her turn to glance at his face. Her smile remained, yet she wondered if he was joking or if he just didn't know the true process. Lighthearted, Mati just laughed, "I guess its much easier when you have the picture right there, or in your head. But still, the mind's eye and the hand are two separate things and they don't always work well together."

There was a small bit of silence, and then her ear turned again to take in his words. It seemed as if was working on a lot, and she wondered who the canine were that he was clothing, for she did not recognize any of the names, and tried to make up pictures for each. The artist created faces and forms to each name, and yet their were blurry and the details faded. Looked back to the mural she focused on the paint strokes to rid herself of the vision. "Seems like you have your worked cut out for you." Her voice light and easygoing. Stepping to the right, she mixed a small amount of a new color, and found that she couldn't get it right try after try. On the third try, she looked back at the other wolf. "My artistic vision needs a break Strel" Her smile didn't fade, but she placed the brush down and took multiple steps backwards and looked from the mural to the male. "Not finished, but its coming along." She wasn't completely happy with it, and saw placed that needed improvement right away but she could only work for so long.

300+
I figure we can close it after this post or yours or w/e haha. If you want, in the next thread, they can talk about queerness in general? [I kinda of post stalked you a bit >>] He can have an outfit ready for you if you want more bg for it c:


Strel snorted at her comment, quite aware of how the mind's eye and hands could end up not working in tandem. Paintbrushes would never find themselves in useful employment if his fingers held them. The most one of those could do is aid him in designing. Thankfully, his doodles were good enough to pass well on clothing that changed and bent so anyone watching the cloth move would not be able to glance wholly on the product. Colors and abstract figures were more the Marquis' forte. He was quite content to let nature be the image of beauty. Besides, needles and thread fit much better into a satchel than pencils, brushes, charcoal, and then paper and canvas to boot.


Blinking back at the woman, he considered the work he had before him. Well, maybe it was a lot, but Strel enjoyed the work to a somewhat insane degree. When he worked on something for someone else, it felt like he was being entirely useful with his existence and the skills given to him; sort of like it was the purpose of his life.


Mati seemed to have reached her limit for the moment; he did not blame her for it at all. Who could keep at it for hours at a time? They would go blind for sure! Strelein watched her move back to examine the mural, but whatever looks crossed her face he did not see. So, because of his position, he stared almost absently at the back of her head, wondering what it would take to get a cup of the talent that the woman had showed here. His sufficient skills to boot, drawing would make his clothing look more better. "Oh, I'm sure. I can't sew for very long either; my eyes start hurting as though I'd looked at the sun for too long." Though he still had sessions where he sat outside or at a window for hours at a time. "What would I do without your lovely eyes working at their best?" He let off a sigh, then continued, "I know I'll be saying this forever more, but, I appreciate what you're doing so much, Mati. It means the world to me."