Come little children ;; crafting

The woman was sitting outside her home. Paws molding something out of clay. Nothing special. Just a rough bowl. The woman had several other ones drying on the porch behind her. The second this one was finished, it joined the others. Then she got more clay.

Starting to mold it into another bowl. Why was she making these? She had no real reason. She was bored and could paint them later for amusement. So, maybe that was a reason. The woman hummed softly. Focused on her work.

actions | "speech" | attacking

[abbr=info]☪[/abbr] you wanted it to be picture perfect

Olalla G. Semenov

Male— Ardent— The Pitt— Bio.— Plot

Unlike Waylon, Olalla did not ask to observe. If the woman did not want him to, he knew that she would voice that and the beast would leave. But until then, he laid sprawled out on the warm sandstone, eyes carefully sticking to the working paws around the bowls.

They were pretty he must admit, in all its uneven beauty. Perhaps he'd ask her to show him how to make one, it can't be that hard, could it? It wasn't much different than weaving, just make sure its even and isn't cracking. Although Olalla had bigger paws than she, way bigger.

"If you wouldn't mind," Olalla began, offering a small smile to her and now Waylon. "Could you show me how to make a bowl? I'll get more clay if you don't have enough." He enjoyed these kinds of things, and it made him wonder. Could he start selling these things? And if not, trading at the very least?

#psychosocial.