Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
16.May.12, 07:07 PM
The morning was still young enough that the colors seemed leeched of their vibrancy as Belamie walked to the craft hall. The cool mist rising from the ground didn't help matters. It made the world around her seem pale and indistinct. The chill and humid air left the journeywoman quickening her pace-- she'd been here long enough that her body had adapted to the weather and now she felt the cold, rather than shrugging it off as she had upon first arriving.
She walked quickly enough that her breath was coming short as she arrived at the hall. Even with the other buildings around it, it felt remote and that suited her just fine. Remote meant fewer people and fewer people meant that she could allow her face to relax. She'd been in bed recently enough that her eyes felt puffy still. She knuckled at them, then stopped to run a clean rag-- kept in her pocket for just this purpose-- around the edges of her bootsoles.
The floor had been pristine yesterday when the hall had emptied out. Belamie knew this because she'd spent half an hour sweeping it. No sense in dirtying it with her arrival, though she knew she'd be spending that same half an hour at the end of day leaving the place as clean as it could be.
There was no one inside yet, as she'd expected.
Later she'd have to attend to her chores but right now, she enjoyed being able to draw a full breath as she ambled towards the space set aside for her craft. Everything was on the table, just as she'd left it-- the raw spoons that still required sanding and their final shaping, the burls to be hollowed out into large bowls and containers, the clamped planks that would eventually be a bench with a subtle striped pattern achieved by using differently aged wood glued together, the buckets full of chips both dry and soaking to be taken to the kitchens for the smokers. The scent in the air of this corner was a rich one. She took another deep breath and held it for a moment in her lungs.
It was peaceful here. But Belamie knew that the others would begin arriving soon enough. Crafters, just as inclined to early days as she was, and possibly Weyrfolk looking for their services. Best she get busy. Too damp outside for the burls, and the glue on the planks needed longer.
Hooking a stool over with her foot, she rummaged in one of the bins kept under her work table and came out with her roll of sanding files.
Spoons it would be.
She walked quickly enough that her breath was coming short as she arrived at the hall. Even with the other buildings around it, it felt remote and that suited her just fine. Remote meant fewer people and fewer people meant that she could allow her face to relax. She'd been in bed recently enough that her eyes felt puffy still. She knuckled at them, then stopped to run a clean rag-- kept in her pocket for just this purpose-- around the edges of her bootsoles.
The floor had been pristine yesterday when the hall had emptied out. Belamie knew this because she'd spent half an hour sweeping it. No sense in dirtying it with her arrival, though she knew she'd be spending that same half an hour at the end of day leaving the place as clean as it could be.
There was no one inside yet, as she'd expected.
Later she'd have to attend to her chores but right now, she enjoyed being able to draw a full breath as she ambled towards the space set aside for her craft. Everything was on the table, just as she'd left it-- the raw spoons that still required sanding and their final shaping, the burls to be hollowed out into large bowls and containers, the clamped planks that would eventually be a bench with a subtle striped pattern achieved by using differently aged wood glued together, the buckets full of chips both dry and soaking to be taken to the kitchens for the smokers. The scent in the air of this corner was a rich one. She took another deep breath and held it for a moment in her lungs.
It was peaceful here. But Belamie knew that the others would begin arriving soon enough. Crafters, just as inclined to early days as she was, and possibly Weyrfolk looking for their services. Best she get busy. Too damp outside for the burls, and the glue on the planks needed longer.
Hooking a stool over with her foot, she rummaged in one of the bins kept under her work table and came out with her roll of sanding files.
Spoons it would be.
