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 Posted: Tue Sep 11, 2012 12:05 pm
Unfortunately it was quite honestly getting to be too small. He'd chosen the spot when he was just a juve, and now that he was grown, he could barely cram himself into the hollow between branch and trunk anymore. Not to mention that the once spacious crack that housed his precious art was overflowing. It was time to find a new spot to secretly paint in.
He had borrowed a loosely woven netting from someone and had loaded the pieces of bark, stone, and leaf that he'd used to create his artwork on. There was certainly no chance of him painting on any living pride member, for he'd be laughed at for the offer, or so he told himself. He was lugging this bag along a branch in the cool evening hours, hoping to meet noone. He had his brushes of knotted boar hair, giraffe hair, and tough strands of elephant tail hairs in his mouth. he'd not been able to bring his pigments just yet, but he'd get them later. For now, if only he could lug this lot to the next tree over, where he'd found a rather nice spot very high up in the tree's crown.
Wouldn't you know it, though, one of his creations worked its way out of the netting, slipped free, and fell with a loud CRACK below. He was so dismayed he nearly dropped the rest of them too. Gazing downwards, he realized with a groan that not only had the bark painting broken in two, but it was sitting nearly at the paws of a young female. Oh no, his secret was out!
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 6:39 pm
Ke'awkato had been so tangled up in her own mess of woven vine that it took her a few seconds to realize that the piece had indeed fallen from above her and not simply off her back. She should have known immediately, it was much prettier than the ones she made. Even the birds were better crafters than her it seemed.
With more than a little struggle she managed to shrug off the mass she was carrying and step free of it. Once the weight was gone she was able to actually look upward, hoping her luck wasn't foul enough for another to drop on her. But there was nothing falling, and no birds either. That part was strange, there were always birds this far out. No birds, but something else. A lion, one she was sure she'd seen around the pride but couldn't place. And a bag of crafts. But he wasn't a crafter, she'd know him then. A thief maybe?
Her heart skipped. A thief! If he'd stolen from any of the other crafters they'd think it was her that had done it. They always teased her about being jealous of their work. They were right, but she'd never steal anything. "Hey!" she shouted, trying her best to sound intimidating though her voice was barely above a squeak, "You can't just take those!"
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 7:00 pm
He was very startled to be told, even in a squeak, that he shouldn't be taking them anywhere. He stared down at her, blue eyes wide. He set down the netting and grasped his brushes in a paw, and for a moment his mouth gaped wordlessly, but he finally managed to answer the first thing that came to his mind. "But... but... they wouldn't fit in the old spot, and I've got to hide them!" It hadn't dawned on him that she was accusing him of stealing. All that he could think was how mortified he'd be if word got out that he painted.
He left the net and brushes and dropped down to the larger branch below, swiftly scooping up the broken art and cradling it to his chest, a mournful but worried look on his face. "You have no idea how much trouble I'd be in!" he declared fervently, but in a whisper now, as if afraid someone would overhear. "I'm not supposed to be doing this!"
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 7:11 pm
"Of course you're not," she snapped back, feeling a little empowered by the meek way he was responding. She'd expected him to run, or yell at her, but he was really listening. Maybe this was what it felt like for the others. "Those things are for all to appreciate, they're meant to be seen and used and loved." She sounded like a rambling old woman, but she knew what she meant in her mind. "You can't just take them and hide them away," she added with a stomp of her paw, "Now come down here and show me what you have."
Maybe that was a step too bold. She shrunk back for a moment, making herself feel very small. If he were to simply jump over her and take off into the trees there wasn't anything she could really do about it. She'd never been a very adept climber, it often took her two or three tries to even get onto the lowest branch. But then, no one had seen them either, so surely she couldn't be blamed for his escape. But she would be, she thought.
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 7:20 pm
If anything, his eyes got wider than ever. She... she really thought so? His artwork? For a moment he stood uncertainly, clutching his broken piece to his chest and waffling about whether to just flee and leave the paintings and weavings behind, or do as she so sternly instructed him. For a warrior, though, he was terribly biddable. As a consequence, he tucked his tail, folded his ears, and crept back up onto the branch overhead. He decided to leave the brushes where they were, so that he would still have them and his supplies he'd left behind earlier, just in case she decided to trash his work as worthless.
He grasped the strongest part of the netting in his mouth, took a deep breath, and dropped to the branch below, holding his head as high as he could so that the things inside wouldn't be harmed. He'd left the broken one below already, though he took care not to land on it. Carefully, oh-so carefully, he lowered the netted bag to the wide branch's surface, let go, and then took another deep breath. With one paw on the tied-shut mouth of the net-bag, he turned anxious eyes on her. "Did you mean what you said? Truly?" How he wished with all his heart that others would love and appreciate what he could craft, paint, and create. It would be both a dream come true and a complete and utter nightmare. What would his father say???
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 7:31 pm
Did she really mean it? Knitting her brow she pinned her ears back, looking him over carefully while she tried to see if he was trying to trick her. "Of course I mean it, our brothers and sisters worked hard to create those for all. You can't just squirrel them away for yourself, where would you take them anyway?" she asked with a sigh.
That part she hadn't considered at first, but it seemed important. A bag of crafts, even well made ones, wouldn't trade for much food and he seemed like her was one of the people so he wouldn't be going too far. "I can help you take them back," she added quickly, "So no one would even have to know." She knew what it felt like to be looked down on.
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 7:51 pm
As she spoke, he began to frown. Wait... what? Brothers and sisters had created them? But... that wasn't right! Was she trying to accuse him of copying others' work?! He sat up straighter and huffed out his chest in indignation. Her offer to help him take them back was simply the last straw. He'd tried to tell her there was no room, had she not been listening? That was the whole reason he was moving them!
In his outrage at being accused of mimicking the creativity of others, he completely forgot that he probably should make some excuse that made them not his own. His inner artist was too strong and too starving for the chance to claim this artwork as his very own. "I didn't copy them!" he began hotly. "And I'm not keeping them for myself! And I told you, they won't fit back there!" It all came out in a mad rush of words, one thought right after the other, without pausing to think or explain what he meant. He wrapped a paw protectively around the bag and began to ease it behind himself. The way she was talking, she might very well steal them! "You can't have them!" he added with great emphasis.
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 8:03 pm
Didn't copy them? Well of course he didn't. Unless... A flush crept across her face and she let out a high pitched noise, horribly embarrassed for making such an obvious mistake. He hadn't stolen them at all had he? She was yelling at him for taking his own things, that certainly wasn't something most would tolerate from her. He must be worried about something himself then.
Well, of course he would be, how stupid could she be. All he was doing was minding his own business and she was shouting at him. "I-," she stumbled, trying to look him in the eye, "You didn't steal these did you. You made them." She trailed off on the last words as she realized that this lion, even though he wasn't a trained crafter, was miles ahead of her own skill. Nervously she twisted her paw back and forth in the dirt.
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 8:11 pm
Once more, she caught him off-guard, and he was left staring at her like an utter fool. Stolen them? Him? These? He was so shocked, he was completely speechless long after she'd trailed off. His addled brain was whirling badly, and it was only with some effort that he stilled the crazy careening of his thoughts. He took his third deep breath of the encounter and tried to assemble events as they actually had happened.
"You... thought I stole them?" he said slowly, eyes defocused as he worked it out. Ah, it all made sense now. No wonder she'd spoken so sternly! Why, wouldn't he have done the same thing? Or rather, he should have, in her situation. He wasn't sure he'd be very good at shouting at someone at all. It wasn't in his nature. Thank goodness the pride seldom really needed its warriors, or he'd have been washed out of his chosen rank almost immediately. As it was, he was allowed to remain and train and practice with the rest.
"Ooooh, that's why...," he trailed off and refocused on her. She looked so contrite! His soft heart wouldn't let him be angry with her, not when her actions were so justified! No, he had to make this right, somehow. Maybe a little truth would go a long way here.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. This wasn't something he'd told anyone. "I... uh... yes, these are my artwork," he said quietly, his own eyes on his paws now. "I'm... not supposed to be an artist, a crafter. I'm supposed to be a warrior." There was a soft note of anguish in this last statement, a long-held misery. "I've been hiding these because my father would be so disappointed in me if he knew, I'm sure of it." He actually hung his head and looked dismayed and despairing. "But I can't stop doing it, and I've filled up the hiding place I chose as a cub."
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 8:19 pm
"Oh..." Ke'aw said softly, though her voice trailed off as her mind filled with images of others mocking her. She had never been graceful or entirely creative, even on her best days she was decidedly mediocre at her work. And he was the same, she supposed. He might be good as a warrior, at least, and just not enjoy it. She simply didn't know of anything else she could do.
"I'm sorry, you're very good," she fumbled, "I don't see why you can't do both though." Her voice trailed off again as she stared at her toes. That was stupid, of course, if his father didn't want him being a crafter it wouldn't be any better for him to be both. "It's just a shame to hide things so pretty," she added, barely above a whisper.
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 8:25 pm
His face heated at her praise, and his ears folded with consternation. "I wish I could be both," he mourned. "I would be so happy if I could share all this with others, and not be afraid of my father's inevitable disapproval." His chest tightened. It had always been a dream to become a crafter, to share his skill with others, to let his artwork be seen by all. But that was never to be.
She seemed to know quite a bit about it, though, and an idea waveringly blossomed hope within him. He took a step towards her and bent his head down to try to look earnestly into her eyes. "Could you... if I gave these to you, do you thing you could... find something to do with them?" He looked decidedly hopeful and yet painfully uncomfortable. "I don't even mind if noone knows I did them. It would just be nice to have them appreciated." He looked over his shoulder wistfully, head and ears drooping.
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 8:32 pm
Her eyes lit up at his suggestion, and all of a sudden she felt like a cub discovering its own paws. "Like a ghost?" she wondered, "I'm a crafter, actually, so maybe I could mix them in with my own things." No, that would never work. His were so lovely and creative and hers were so, well, crude. She would have to find a way to make a more gradual transition, and then maybe the others would think she had been struck by some divine inspiration.
That's what they would have to do then. "If I gave you some of my things, some of the things I made myself, do you think you could copy them?" she asked, then paused, "Only, a little better maybe. Like moving toward your things. Our brothers and sisters would be suspicious otherwise I think. And that way, we can both be happy. We can meet in secret, just like this." It was a little selfish on her part, but perhaps she could find something to do for him to repay it.
"I usually craft out here anyway, so no one will laugh at me when I make mistakes."
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 8:54 pm
Seeing her eyes suddenly shine created a warm place in his chest. It pleased him to see her happy all of a sudden, such a change for her unhappiness before, or the stern scolding before that. He liked her this way, and was quite willing to participate in keeping this positivity flowing. So her suggestion flowed over him without a hitch or a doubt. It made the most sense, and would indeed make them both happy!
He wanted to reassure her about her crafting, but soon was swept past that thought by her planning. He nodded thoughtfully, one paw fiddling with the bark that had broken in two. "Yes, I think that could work," h e began slowly. He still disliked her putting herself down this way, but she did have a point, if in nothing else than style. One artist's style was vastly different from another's. A sudden change would indeed bring suspicion upon her, and she didn't deserve that. Or, well, she did, but she didn't. Augh, he gave up on figuring the morality of the situation. If he himself didn't mind, how could it be wrong for her to pass off his work as her own?
"Alright then," he said decisively. "If you don't mind, I'd rather we met in my new art spot." He gestured upwards and away to his right. "It's off that way, and would have plenty of room for both of us. It's the crown of a tree, and is open sun and breeze, though a few branches shade it." He personally felt it was absolutely perfect for his, now their, purpose. "If that is your work," he peeked around her at her own net-bag, "I can haul it up there for you, and show you the way, so you can find it again." He'd come back later for his own cache. It could wait. "Off we go!" Hefting her netting, he turned and began climbing up to the smaller branches again, but going quite a bit slower than usual, due to the burden. This was going to be a laborious trip, but one well worth it.
Maybe life could be good now. All because he'd broken one of his paintings!
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