Closed Unexpected Companion (Bec)

[Arvan]

26th of Summer, around 9 bells, 513 AV

Arvan didn't remember how he hate a branch as much as that morning. No, it was not a usual one, it was the most stubborn and hard headed branch he ever knew, despite it didn't even has a head. He glared at the brownish stick that tease him for many chimes. It was a feet long usual branch that he even didn't know has fell from what kind of tree. For him it should serve as material, as an object that must obey him. He took a deep breath. Let see who's stronger? he held his chisel out and smirking toward the stick. He was doing his project for Crafting, though his first attempt seems to end up unsuccessful.

He sat down at the bare earth and put down the stubborn branch. Using one of his leg he trapped the wood and carefully carve a scratch. I was a totally hot lately at Zeltiva. Syna shone bright and the air grew more humid. No more comforting sea breeze that flow playfully at the roof. Arvan couldn't stand being burned down there at the city. As natural woodland dweller he instinctly go up hills and it wasn't long before he get there. Fine trees grew up wildly at the upper hills, casting cools shades that was a great comfort to him. Meanwhile they also provide him with enough materials, branches and fallen sticks to work on his crafting project. It was not much far away from the city, Arvan could see the Quill's Rest from there.

Struggled at his work, the Kelvic tried to concentrated. He didn't need a great result, he just wanted it to be at least gave it a shape, any shape except an abstract one. He chiseled the end of the stick and pick the most familiar things he ever knew, birds head. He know it wouldn't be a good carving but at least he want to try it. For chimes he made similar gestures, chiseled out some piece of wood, hitting on the hard substnces, and try to stick with his main idea. The stick was without doubt, has challange him in it own way. If he stroke it hard enough, it will broke, but he couldn't even chiseled it without using a good amount of strength. Arvan followed it plays so far, but he wasn't in the good mood at all after his first attempt crumbled in vain.

"Be nice to me" He said it bluntly and pitied himself for speaking to a stick.

Another chimes went on and finally Arvan could made it after a sufficient amount of hardwork, patience and self control --to not broke it into two or throwing his project. He stared blankly and dumbfounded, at his masterpiece. It frankly a stick... with sharpened end. Correction, it was a primitive weapon. Or might even be a stake? But it was never a birds head as he intended it to be. Arvan drop his pitiful work and stretched his painful arm. Then he laid down himself at the root of the tree that sheltered him from the heatwave. With an awful feeling, he didn't dare to see how this subject would be ended.