[RQ] Amateurs have been known to be useful

marcus

I want it all give me everything that you got

By this shift in the Gilded Market, Marcus had stopped feeling completely out of place, though only just. The guild hall buzzed with constant motion. Every workbench seemed occupied by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Marcus kept his attention on the task in front of him instead of the masters around him. He measured twice before making each cut, slowing himself whenever impatience threatened to creep in. He leaned into the sketch that he had made with Sah before traveling down to the guildhall, focusing on what the once-wolf had told him of creating new things.

It was strange, realizing that creation required as much discipline as combat or hunting. Every mistake stayed visible until it was repaired, every careful choice became part of the finished piece. He found he liked that. So he was diligent in the work, staining and gluing the curved and cut boards together for the small skis.

The full transplant bleeding with a new heart

// sun comin' up on a dream come around //

"What'cha making?" Danta's voice pipes up from over Marcus's shoulder, the Maverick peeping as best he can at the small skis the other man seems concentrating deeply upon. "Are they for toddlers?" And also why does he need to be in the Gilded Market to make them - in a region currently not inundated by snow, too. All questions Danta honestly shouldn't be involving himself in, but that's what happens when the precocious leader of the Hollowed Grounds goes for a wander.

Circling around to face Marcus properly, the Maverick has, in fact, ducked into the guildhall to hide from a sudden and vicious downpour outside; rain hammers against the glass aggressively enough to turn a few heads before they go back to their work, and the Ancient scrunches his nose at the weather like this might be enough to make it go away. "Better off making umbrellas or surfboards at this rate."

Dantalion

// one hundred years from the empire now //