Flashback Clay, of a kind

[Vaewe]

49th of Spring, 509 AV Vaewe looked at the hunk of clay that sat on his low set table. Malformed and grey and clinging to the tired cloth it had been wrapped in it was ugly and it was exciting. He peeled the lump from the cloth and tossed it on to the unfinished wood of his work bench. It stuck with a thunk. He began to wedge the clay, pressing his palms deep into the pliable substance. It was crushed and thinned by the pressure of his hand, and spread out over the table obediently. He picked it up and folded the soft clay over onto itself before slapping it down and crushing it once again. Vaewe repeated and repeated the process, trying to press the air from his fresh clay and work the moisture through its body. He did not want his work shattering. It was a lovely day. The air was not too hot and the sun was soft and gentle as it poured through his open door. Vaewe was wearing a small choker on which he had strung petit, pale shells and exuberant yellow beads made of glass. He felt bright today. He had fresh clay, clay that Caesta had brought him after her trip to the market in the morning. She was outside now, tending her garden which was just beginning to blush with greenery. He would make her a gift of this clay, a watering pot. It would be something light and lovely to bring life to her flowers. Vaewe left the kneaded clay on the table and turned to his wheel. He sat very close and picked up the long rod he used to start the spinning. The wheel itself was large, flat and heavy. It had a medium sized platform in the center with small spokes connecting it to an outer ring. He could turn it while he worked but it was easier to start the stone spinning with his rod. He planted it firmly against the clay crusted stone and stretched himself up as high as he could. The Akvatari made small, rapid circles with his hands and watched as they turned into larger rotations of his wheel, ever increasing in speed. Vaewe set down his rod and took a deep breath. He was sweating slightly as he picked up his clay and threw it into the workspace of the wheel. It stuck well. He dipped his hands into the waiting pot of slip, they came out grey and slick with the clay-water mixture. Now the clay on the wheel slid easily beneath his fingers and he began applying pressure. His hands cupped over the clay, pushing a little up and a little more to the left until there were no wobbles in the turn of the clay body. He had centered it and could start his work now. With a small smile Vaewe pressed his fingers into the center of his lump, and watched the clay radiate out from his fingers, spreading smoothly beneath the pressure.

[Sebastion]

"If you can't find the petching Unity Circle, I have no hope for you as an apprentice, useless hunk of earth." The words still rang somewhere inside the moist depths of the little Pycon's mind as he set out into the heart of Mura, perched excitedly upon Snowflake's back, drinking in the sights. Shim was still very confused about his newly found grandmother, a woman who had apparently looked just as old and wizened as the day she first took shape. She had the mouth of a sailor, which the Pycon had never heard until he had started his journey to Mura, in which he found several Svefra willing to show him how that saying had gotten its start. She also didn't seem very excited to find another Pycon who shared her views about alchemy, and just saw he and Snowflake as more mouths to feed. Well Shim would prove his usefulness to her, he vowed, if it took bit of clay in his body to do so, and going out to fetch some clay from town didn't seem like a hard task...at first... But the colors, the plants, the buildings, the COLORS! Everywhere he turned the Pycon saw a new wonderful thing, every few steps, even Pycon sized ones, and he was immersed in a new world with hundreds of different flora and fauna he couldn't name, but sorely wanted to. Lily-pads that hopped away when you blew on them, fish that bloomed like orchids, stones that were furry to the touch! Try to imagine yourself so small and plain in the middle of all the magnificent beauty and containing yourself, if you can, you will realize it is a hard task indeed. Finally Shim was just too overwhelmed, he had to jump off of Snowflake and look around from a properly Pycon perspective. He found one plant, rather plain in comparison to it's brethren, that began in a shallow pool, but culminated in a series of thinly striped vines around the exterior of a small building. It's blooms were simple white flowers with strange pink protrusions that unfurled from the center of the plant. He stroked one gently with the tip of his pinky, unsure of the delicateness of the thing presented to him. In response a thin puff of violet pollen exuded itself from the belly of the plant, up into the air where it was carried right up into Snowflake's face. She snorted and huffed ending in a loud sneeze. Shim went over to investigate. The sled dog's eyes seemed to water, but he didn't notice any allergic or negative reactions, perhaps it was too little an amount to infect a creature of this size. He jotted down a mental note to buy a journal in which to record his findings on the island along with pick up the supply of clay, then proceeded onward on foot. He was so lost in his observations that it took him several chimes to realize that a noise had snuck into his senses, something rhythmic and beating slowly. He released the small toad, which from it's coloration and the spikes that came up from it's back dripping a strange substance, he imagined was poisonous, and let it hop away, making sure to remove the substance form his clay so as to not accidentally rub it off on Snow. Once this was done he turned his attention back to the noise. He couldn't be far from his destination now, but there weren't too many Konti around. He jogged forward trying to figure out what the sound could be issuing from, his mind accessing the options. Not musical, at least not musical in intent though the rhythm unknowingly held harmony with the noises of birds and amphibians around the area. If recreation was not the intent than perhaps utility, a tool of some sort. It was then that Shim found the small home, and the source of the noise. He approached the open doorway and saw the wheel, a smile consuming his face at being able to guess it's origin. This expression widened when he saw the being working it. He had not expected an Akvatari on Mura, but he was also a Pycon on the island, so why would it surprise him that another race had sought the knowledge of this beautiful place. The Pycon was very respectful of people working, but was supremely impatient when left to wait. Barely a chime passed before the little clay man quietly walked around to where the Akvatari would be able to see him and began a tirade of words. "Shim is so sorry to interrupt your work, he just couldn't believe his fortune at finding another stranger in Mura and wished to express his greetings and comment on your skills with pottery, which he found rather coincidental and humorous. Shim is being so rude! Please forgive him, what is this Akvatari's name? He is so excited and when this happens he speaks too much and forgets common courtesies, apologies apologies!" For Vaewe the creature's enthusiasm of his words was apparent, any smells mirrored the material he was working with, but this was just the base matter to what made up the energetic little fellow. Scents of flowers, musk of unknown odors that tasted foreign, some inviting, others like sulfur and the forgotten coals of an old fire. The colors were many and varied, but all seemed earthy, browns, silvers, golds, metals of the earths along with deep blues and aquamarines that complimented his words. He was little but the materials of large brass gongs or the depths of a mountains pass reverberated through his voice, his varying emotions bringing you higher or lower in altitude. XI hope this makes sense and fits with how Vaewe would view this through his senses!

[Vaewe]

Out, out and thinner the clay spun beneath his thumb. From the center it spread, and a thick brim of unshaped clay preceded his slip covered fingers as they pressed ever outward. With the base done he dipped his hand once again in the thick, cool and comforting suspension. Earthy grey gloves of clay reached his forearm before ceding to the fragile whiteness of Vaewe’s skin. They slid easily against the small disk he had created and now cupped in his palms, teasing the sides up ever so lightly. Pressure in and up from the edges of his hands discouraged the loose turning of his creation, stifling the wobble of asymmetry that had begun to develop in the absence of his guiding palms. This had been simple, and Vaewe had a small, shallow dish with thick edges spinning before him. The smell of wet earth and cool hands filled his small room and Vaewe smiled at the gift being birthed before him. His chin itched, and the satisfaction of scratching it left a dark grey streak in the shadow of his lips. The next step would be more difficult. He pinched the fat lip of his dish, edging it upward with a patient, satisfied touch. There was no rush, the clay would listen to his gentleness more than anxious urging, and Vaewe did not necessarily want his play time to end. He kept the pressure between his fingers low, beneath the edge of the clay. Low, steady and constant, with a thumb in the belly and his slick fingers guiding the outer edge. If he could raise a thick edge high enough for the belly, and keep a wobble from developing, Vaewe would be able to make a neck for his, for Caesta’s, watering pot. If he couldn’t the akvatari would have to begin again. He did not notice the smell first. It took a while before the undertones of lilacs and smoke could press their way through the scents of clay, living and non. But Vaewe noticed the ripple of hues that began to pour through the shining clay and pale arms that filled his vision. Earthy blues and the shine of gold rather than sunlight glinted on his fingertips. The deep, hollow sensation of the Pycon’s low voice tickled Vaewe’s diaphragm. He had rarely felt so many colors, so many subtle scents in a single voice. Did the speaker not know what it was? Wait. That was a good question. What exactly was it? It was certainly speaking. Very quickly and the little figurine had already passed through half of its rapid speech. The excitement in the Pycon’s voice made Vaewe’s wings itch. But what it was excited about Vaewe could not tell. The little hole, the mouth he supposed, moved so quickly and was so small he could not lip read across the span of his wheel. Leaning forward, with a scrupulous squint in his watery eyes the Akvatari crushed his little pot beneath his hands. It was no loss and Vaewe was too curious to take much notice of the soft lips that crumpled into the belly of his work, fading away with the whirring of the wheel. It was, was it clay? Either way, the thing had stopped talking. Vaewe was still leaning avidly over his wheel, and with one quickly crusting hand he plucked up the rod he had been using earlier. Slowly, curiously he extended it over the distance between the two odd creatures, with the intent of testing the firmness of this strange little being. Then the dog came in. Vaewe saw the black shape in the corner of his vision and turned. A great furry beast had poured into the workshop, its hot tongue dangling between white fangs. The Akvatari was fluttering near the ceiling in a moment, still clutching his spinning rod and staring wide eyed and the little clay monster and the larger one of flesh, blood and fur. OOCSorry for taking so long. Normally Vae doesn't get so many sensations in one voice, however, I quite like the idea of a Pycon w/o its true form having so many contesting sensations buzzing about it his voice. Also, my appologies for Vae's attempted poke. He's not good at meeting people

[Sebastion]

Shim beamed as the Akvatari leaned in close to him, clearly curious of the little clay man. His stony eyes glanced in dismay as the beautiful work was squashed in an instant, but since it seemed that his new friend did not mind the clay's shape being ruined, he should not either, and threw the silly thought from his mind. When it was clear he had gotten the stranger’s attention Vaewe would sense a bit of calming in the rush of colors and smells, a more musky earthy scent with the faint brush of flowers, the colors mediated somewhat, though they still changed rapidly. The Pycon was more amused by the rod prodding his clay flesh than anything, he giggled, which was more of a deep chortle to those with regular hearing. He gently pushed the object away. “Is the Akvatari confused because it works with clay and Shim is clay also?” This idea amused the Pycon and he continued to laugh, that was, until Snowflake appeared in Vaewe’s line of vision and the creature pinned himself to the ceiling. Shim’s mouth opened in utter concern for the fellow creature and Snow just looked utterly confused. She pressed her wet muzzle against the Pycon’s shoulder in question, and Shim stroked her snout. “Snow seems to have upset our new friend, perhaps the sled dog will wait outside?” He gestured with tiny hands outside and Snow plodded out, giving one last forlorn glance at the creature still frantically pinned to the ceiling before exiting the building and laying down outside. Shim sighed a bit then beckoned to the Akvatari with both arms. “Shim apologies again! So many apologies today it seems! It seems he is a very rude visitor, yes indeed. He is sorry Snowflake scared the Akvatari, it can come down now and they can introduce themselves properly! Please?” The little Pycon looked as imploringly as he could up at his new acquaintance and sat down on the floor to wait, hoping he had not frightened the creature so badly with his canine companion.