Sculpting
Posted: Fri Nov 18, 2011 6:06 pmStreamwood Settlement
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Nestled in a sheltered clearing of the deep woods of Coghill is the Streamwood settlement, named for the small stream running through the middle of the settlement. A stone retaining wall has been constructed along the stream’s course for safety. Babbling quietly, the stream trips merrily over the stone bed as it winds further south. Every so often a glimmer of light reflects off a passing fish. Over the water in several locations are low, wide bridges, perfect for passage or fishing. Water lilies as well as wildflowers growing along the streambed perfume the air with their aroma.
Small wooden cottages peek out from the tree line, constructed from the sturdy lumber the woods provide. Some cottages have small flower or vegetable gardens out front. Others have small wooden or stone figures decorating the yard, a nod to their resident’s occupation. There are two fire pits, one on either side of the stream for communal use. The atmosphere is serene and welcoming, perfect for raising a small family or starting a new career.
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You can go: Manor Road <N>, Lorcan <1>, Saeryn <2>, Warner <3>, Ald <4>, Aderyn <5>, Chosette <6>, Damala <7>, Lora <8>, Celia <9>, Cantil <10>, Renand <11>
Contents:
A daughter of eve with dark brown hair (Saeryn)
Larder Basket
Firepit <LIT>
Saeryn comes along the manor road, probably just from the inn. A couple of grapes poke out of her satchel where the bunches have been carefully lain.
Lorcan has pulled some sort of small table in front of his cottage. Across it is strewn a hammer, chisel, chunks of discarded stone, and a very small statue that he appears to be in the process of working on. He’s brought work home tonight, apparently.
Saeryn notices the man at his work table, giving a small smile of greeting as she makes her way toward the firepit, pulling one of the clusters of grapes out as she goes.
Lorcan glances up as she passes, and looks almost surprised to see her smile at him. He smiles back, kindly enough.
Saeryn apparently is not over her shyness, as she looked away too quickly to catch his returned smile. Once next to the fire, she carefully takes a piece of cloth from her satchel, removing the grapes and resting them upon the fabric near the fire.
Lorcan is unperturbed, perhaps to the point of not even noticing. He goes back to the small block of marble in his hands. It is a brilliant white color, veined with darker grays and silvers. The stone has a half-finished look to it – you can tell that it is the bust of a woman, clearly a decorative piece, and he is just now beginning to carve out the fine details.
Saeryn, once she is done carefully laying out the grapes, gives a curious glance over at the stonemason’s work. Though she is a bit too far to see much detail, the color of the marble catches her eye.
Lorcan chews on his lip for a moment, deep in concentration. He turns the stone over in his hands a few times before replacing it on the table and reaching for a flat chisel beside him. He painstakingly starts to smooth out some of the rougher lines left in the marble with it.
Saeryn watches him work, occasionally glancing back at the raisins-to-be.
Lorcan’s hands are steady as he goes about his work, his eyes caught on the stone taking shape under his palms. A crease forms between his brow, but his expertise and skill are evident.
Saeryn opens her mouth, about to ask a question as she looks at the little sculpture, but she catches sight of the concentration on his face and falls silent, content to watch longer instead.
Lorcan brushes a few small pieces of stone off to the side of the table, away from his workspace, with a sweep of his arm. He focuses again on carefully smoothing out roughly chiseled areas of the stone, as tiny particles of white marble flake off below his chisel.
Saeryn follows the flakes of white marble down to the ground with her eyes. They quickly flick back to the drying grapes, but seeing they are not yet done, she looks back to the carving.
Lorcan pauses to run his fingers over the portion of stone he has just smoothed and nods slightly. He moves the chisel to begin smoothing a portion of marble that will be the top of the woman’s dress.
Saeryn leans slightly forward, a faint frown on her face as she tries to see a bit better, but catches herself and sit back quickly, glancing towards the fire instead.
As Lorcan works, it becomes more and more obvious what this statue will look like. There are still a number of fine details to be carved in. But overall, the carving shows the shoulders and face of a woman, her hair long and unbound, flowing over her shoulders to meet with the graceful neckline of her dress. Her eyes are wide, and her lips ever so slightly parted, as though she is on the verge of some great question. Her head leans slightly forward with the intensity of the thought she seems about to voice.
Saeryn, looking back, gets a better view of the statue. Her eyes widen in surprise at the graceful sculpture, perhaps not expecting this from the silent Lorcan.
Lorcan sets down his hammer and chisel, and brushes his calloused hands across the surface of the sculpture. He leans down and blows a few smaller chunks and dust off of it.
Saeryn finally decides to speak, gaze focused on the statue. “Do you often bring your work here?”
Lorcan starts a little at the unexpected sound. His eyes flick up and over to Saeryn, and then back to the statue. “Not often,” he says quietly. “Only if a deadline is fast approaching.” He pauses. “Or if the piece is particularly compelling.”
Saeryn nods, gazing at the statue a while longer before finally looking away again, checking the raisins. “It’s lovely.”
Lorcan runs a hand over the woman’s hair thoughtfully. He glances up at this, and one corner of his mouth tips up slightly. “Thank you.”
Saeryn half-smiles, head dipping faintly.
Lorcan studies his work for a moment. “It amazes me what each order can tell about the one who requests it,” he muses, almost to himself.
Saeryn looks over again, not really having expected him to speak again. She hesitates a moment. “Who ordered this one?”
Lorcan frowns slightly, as if straining to remember. “A stranger,” he says at last. “I do not recall his name. But by his dress he had to have been a lord of some kind.”
Saeryn ahs quietly. “Do you often do sculptures?”
Lorcan shrugs ambivalently. “When there is need. In truth,” he looks a little sheepish, as if this is a proud thing to say, “I can do most anything with stone.”
Saeryn gives a very faint smile, slightly wistful. Judging from the way her eyes flick toward the raisins and the fire, it may be assumed that she is wishing for the day she could say that about her cooking. “How long have you worked with stone?”
You say, “Since I was a lad. My father was a stonemason, and he started to teach me long before I was old enough to be an apprentice.”
Saeryn sighs softly, mouth still twitched into a smile. “What do you like to make?” She glances in his direction.
Lorcan stills, as though this is a question he has given little thought to. His gray eyes seem to withdraw thoughtfully. At last, he answers, “I suppose sculptures. They require a kind of – vision – that things like benches and roads cannot even come close to.”
Saeryn nods slowly, going quiet again, head tilted slightly as she examines the little statue once more.
Lorcan looks a tad awkward in the silence, and he returns his gaze to the work of marble again. As he does, the awkwardness fades, and a thoughtfull glint comes into his eye. He reaches for a small, file-looking piece of metal and starts to carefully file small embroidery onto the neckline of the woman’s dress.
Saeryn looks away, back toward the raisins, well dried at this point. She gathers them together, brushing them into three pouches.
Under Lorcan’s riffler, small flowers that seem to be made of thread take shape.
Saeryn, though she can’t see the delicate embroidery from her distance, glances back toward the statue, seeming hardly able to look away from it. Glancing upward, she catches sight of the darkening sky and sighs.
Lorcan’s tongue sticks out slightly between his lips in concentration on the tiny details.
Saeryn closes the three small pouches, walking toward the larder basket. Looking in, she shifts a few things, organizing the basket a bit before she lays the raisins in with the rest.
Lorcan pulls his fingers back to brush off the marble he has just removed.
Saeryn walks toward her cottage, giving the statue a quick examination as she passes by. A small smile shapes her mouth momentarily as she glances up at Lorcan. “Have a good evening.”
Lorcan looks up, his gaze catching hers as she passes. He pauses at the smile on her lips before he remembers to speak. “And you,” he says, his voice gruff but soft, as paradoxical as that seems.
Saeryn enters Saeryn’s cottage.
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Nestled in a sheltered clearing of the deep woods of Coghill is the Streamwood settlement, named for the small stream running through the middle of the settlement. A stone retaining wall has been constructed along the stream’s course for safety. Babbling quietly, the stream trips merrily over the stone bed as it winds further south. Every so often a glimmer of light reflects off a passing fish. Over the water in several locations are low, wide bridges, perfect for passage or fishing. Water lilies as well as wildflowers growing along the streambed perfume the air with their aroma.
Small wooden cottages peek out from the tree line, constructed from the sturdy lumber the woods provide. Some cottages have small flower or vegetable gardens out front. Others have small wooden or stone figures decorating the yard, a nod to their resident’s occupation. There are two fire pits, one on either side of the stream for communal use. The atmosphere is serene and welcoming, perfect for raising a small family or starting a new career.
=====================================================
/.*/^\*.\%\.*/^\*./%/.*/^\*.\%\.*/^\*./%/.*/^\*.\%\.*/^\*./%/.*/^\*.\%
You can go: Manor Road <N>, Lorcan <1>, Saeryn <2>, Warner <3>, Ald <4>, Aderyn <5>, Chosette <6>, Damala <7>, Lora <8>, Celia <9>, Cantil <10>, Renand <11>
Contents:
A daughter of eve with dark brown hair (Saeryn)
Larder Basket
Firepit <LIT>
Saeryn comes along the manor road, probably just from the inn. A couple of grapes poke out of her satchel where the bunches have been carefully lain.
Lorcan has pulled some sort of small table in front of his cottage. Across it is strewn a hammer, chisel, chunks of discarded stone, and a very small statue that he appears to be in the process of working on. He’s brought work home tonight, apparently.
Saeryn notices the man at his work table, giving a small smile of greeting as she makes her way toward the firepit, pulling one of the clusters of grapes out as she goes.
Lorcan glances up as she passes, and looks almost surprised to see her smile at him. He smiles back, kindly enough.
Saeryn apparently is not over her shyness, as she looked away too quickly to catch his returned smile. Once next to the fire, she carefully takes a piece of cloth from her satchel, removing the grapes and resting them upon the fabric near the fire.
Lorcan is unperturbed, perhaps to the point of not even noticing. He goes back to the small block of marble in his hands. It is a brilliant white color, veined with darker grays and silvers. The stone has a half-finished look to it – you can tell that it is the bust of a woman, clearly a decorative piece, and he is just now beginning to carve out the fine details.
Saeryn, once she is done carefully laying out the grapes, gives a curious glance over at the stonemason’s work. Though she is a bit too far to see much detail, the color of the marble catches her eye.
Lorcan chews on his lip for a moment, deep in concentration. He turns the stone over in his hands a few times before replacing it on the table and reaching for a flat chisel beside him. He painstakingly starts to smooth out some of the rougher lines left in the marble with it.
Saeryn watches him work, occasionally glancing back at the raisins-to-be.
Lorcan’s hands are steady as he goes about his work, his eyes caught on the stone taking shape under his palms. A crease forms between his brow, but his expertise and skill are evident.
Saeryn opens her mouth, about to ask a question as she looks at the little sculpture, but she catches sight of the concentration on his face and falls silent, content to watch longer instead.
Lorcan brushes a few small pieces of stone off to the side of the table, away from his workspace, with a sweep of his arm. He focuses again on carefully smoothing out roughly chiseled areas of the stone, as tiny particles of white marble flake off below his chisel.
Saeryn follows the flakes of white marble down to the ground with her eyes. They quickly flick back to the drying grapes, but seeing they are not yet done, she looks back to the carving.
Lorcan pauses to run his fingers over the portion of stone he has just smoothed and nods slightly. He moves the chisel to begin smoothing a portion of marble that will be the top of the woman’s dress.
Saeryn leans slightly forward, a faint frown on her face as she tries to see a bit better, but catches herself and sit back quickly, glancing towards the fire instead.
As Lorcan works, it becomes more and more obvious what this statue will look like. There are still a number of fine details to be carved in. But overall, the carving shows the shoulders and face of a woman, her hair long and unbound, flowing over her shoulders to meet with the graceful neckline of her dress. Her eyes are wide, and her lips ever so slightly parted, as though she is on the verge of some great question. Her head leans slightly forward with the intensity of the thought she seems about to voice.
Saeryn, looking back, gets a better view of the statue. Her eyes widen in surprise at the graceful sculpture, perhaps not expecting this from the silent Lorcan.
Lorcan sets down his hammer and chisel, and brushes his calloused hands across the surface of the sculpture. He leans down and blows a few smaller chunks and dust off of it.
Saeryn finally decides to speak, gaze focused on the statue. “Do you often bring your work here?”
Lorcan starts a little at the unexpected sound. His eyes flick up and over to Saeryn, and then back to the statue. “Not often,” he says quietly. “Only if a deadline is fast approaching.” He pauses. “Or if the piece is particularly compelling.”
Saeryn nods, gazing at the statue a while longer before finally looking away again, checking the raisins. “It’s lovely.”
Lorcan runs a hand over the woman’s hair thoughtfully. He glances up at this, and one corner of his mouth tips up slightly. “Thank you.”
Saeryn half-smiles, head dipping faintly.
Lorcan studies his work for a moment. “It amazes me what each order can tell about the one who requests it,” he muses, almost to himself.
Saeryn looks over again, not really having expected him to speak again. She hesitates a moment. “Who ordered this one?”
Lorcan frowns slightly, as if straining to remember. “A stranger,” he says at last. “I do not recall his name. But by his dress he had to have been a lord of some kind.”
Saeryn ahs quietly. “Do you often do sculptures?”
Lorcan shrugs ambivalently. “When there is need. In truth,” he looks a little sheepish, as if this is a proud thing to say, “I can do most anything with stone.”
Saeryn gives a very faint smile, slightly wistful. Judging from the way her eyes flick toward the raisins and the fire, it may be assumed that she is wishing for the day she could say that about her cooking. “How long have you worked with stone?”
You say, “Since I was a lad. My father was a stonemason, and he started to teach me long before I was old enough to be an apprentice.”
Saeryn sighs softly, mouth still twitched into a smile. “What do you like to make?” She glances in his direction.
Lorcan stills, as though this is a question he has given little thought to. His gray eyes seem to withdraw thoughtfully. At last, he answers, “I suppose sculptures. They require a kind of – vision – that things like benches and roads cannot even come close to.”
Saeryn nods slowly, going quiet again, head tilted slightly as she examines the little statue once more.
Lorcan looks a tad awkward in the silence, and he returns his gaze to the work of marble again. As he does, the awkwardness fades, and a thoughtfull glint comes into his eye. He reaches for a small, file-looking piece of metal and starts to carefully file small embroidery onto the neckline of the woman’s dress.
Saeryn looks away, back toward the raisins, well dried at this point. She gathers them together, brushing them into three pouches.
Under Lorcan’s riffler, small flowers that seem to be made of thread take shape.
Saeryn, though she can’t see the delicate embroidery from her distance, glances back toward the statue, seeming hardly able to look away from it. Glancing upward, she catches sight of the darkening sky and sighs.
Lorcan’s tongue sticks out slightly between his lips in concentration on the tiny details.
Saeryn closes the three small pouches, walking toward the larder basket. Looking in, she shifts a few things, organizing the basket a bit before she lays the raisins in with the rest.
Lorcan pulls his fingers back to brush off the marble he has just removed.
Saeryn walks toward her cottage, giving the statue a quick examination as she passes by. A small smile shapes her mouth momentarily as she glances up at Lorcan. “Have a good evening.”
Lorcan looks up, his gaze catching hers as she passes. He pauses at the smile on her lips before he remembers to speak. “And you,” he says, his voice gruff but soft, as paradoxical as that seems.
Saeryn enters Saeryn’s cottage.