[PRP] - [Phaidros and Viorel] - Autumn's Arrival

[Melomar]

Autumn's Arrival!

Quote:

Prompt:

The heat of summer has finally broken, and the cooler winds of autumn are finally rolling in, much to the relief of some. What was once green and lush has become a brilliant of tapestry of burning oranges and reds as trees and plant-life begin to prepare for the inevitable arrival of winter. Still, there's plenty of time before the bitter cold! Some crops thrive during this period of cooler weather, larders to stock, and homes to reinforce to keep out the chill of the night. The more nomadic sorts may be considering scouting out a good place to hunker down once the snows finally arrive.

What is your 'taur doing now that fall is here? Are they busy harvesting or otherwise preparing? Are they simply enjoying the change in season? The cooler temperatures do make hot food and drinks that much more delectable, after all...

Starring

 

[Melomar]

The summer and fall seasons had finally begun their Dance of Change, which brought Viorel out into the chill with a mission in mind. He wore a woolen vest and scarf, carried a sketchbook and a satchel full of colored pencils. He sought inspiration: shapes, colors, and patterns found in nature at this distinctive and beautiful time of year. He hoped to use these ideas in his jewelry of stone, metal, and leather.

Long story short, he worked through the day and was quite prolific, filling several pages with bright, detailed drawings. He had decided he wanted patterns on the metal itself to add interest. He wanted to try leaf-shaped inlay, that wouldn't catch on everything. His next search would be for rocks of all the colors of the autumnal rainbow. He was excited to get home.

The only problem was, in his haste he left his pencils behind. Disappointed and impatient, he headed back outside and followed the trail, hoping to see the bag before it was covered with fallen leaves. His cheeks and nose tingled from the quick changes in temperature. He wiped at his nose with a handkerchief. His cold-stained hands stung after being stuck for hours holding a pencil. He rubbed his hands and put them in his vest pockets. Soon, he would see the pencil pouch, soon...

WC: 222

irishgirl1017