my whole life is mine, but whoever says so will deprive me,
for it is infinite.
Alrighty then. Amun had drawn a name he didn’t know. Apparently, Sunjata was both a weirdo and an alcoholic, if his list of requests was anything to go by. Something blue? If the potter had been from Earth, he might’ve asked who the lucky fellow was. Cause wedding. Luckily, he could fulfill it fairly easily, and never let it be said that the Ascended didn’t rise to the challenge. Except for the whole non-working genitalia thing.
Weapons weren’t really the potter’s style, but he could fulfill the other two things. It hadn’t taken long to stumble upon someone who sold wines. It had required a bit of haggling, but Amun had managed to get the vintner to part with some blueberry wine in exchange for some clay containers to store future wines in.
Seeing as he’d been planning to make one of those for this Sunjata fellow anyway, that was simple enough to agree to. Making one versus making five wasn’t all that much work. Besides, he could use the best one for the gift and give the shitty ones to the vintner. After agreeing to return at the end of the next day, Amun had returned to his studio.
While there, he’d grabbed five large chunks of clay. Grabbing a bucket of water, he brought the clay and the water over to his kick wheel. One of the chunks was placed on the wheel, the other to one side. That done, he dipped his fingers in the water. Only then did he kick the wheel into motion.
Placing his hands on the wheel, he pressed his thumbs in the center to hollow it out. Adding more water as necessary, he used his palms and his fingers (pinching and cupping and massaging like it was a lover) to shape the clay in the distinct shape of an amphorae, wide bodied and narrow necked. He repeated the process with the other four lumps, then placed them all on a shelf—one that he’d installed himself—to dry. He’d wait for a day before doing the finer work and the handles.
So he went off for the night.
The next morning, he came back earlier than he usually did, before it was even light. Settling in, he grabbed some more clay, rolling it out into cylinders. He was so focused on the work, losing himself in the repetitive and increasingly familiar motions, that he lost track of his surroundings.
Weapons weren’t really the potter’s style, but he could fulfill the other two things. It hadn’t taken long to stumble upon someone who sold wines. It had required a bit of haggling, but Amun had managed to get the vintner to part with some blueberry wine in exchange for some clay containers to store future wines in.
Seeing as he’d been planning to make one of those for this Sunjata fellow anyway, that was simple enough to agree to. Making one versus making five wasn’t all that much work. Besides, he could use the best one for the gift and give the shitty ones to the vintner. After agreeing to return at the end of the next day, Amun had returned to his studio.
While there, he’d grabbed five large chunks of clay. Grabbing a bucket of water, he brought the clay and the water over to his kick wheel. One of the chunks was placed on the wheel, the other to one side. That done, he dipped his fingers in the water. Only then did he kick the wheel into motion.
Placing his hands on the wheel, he pressed his thumbs in the center to hollow it out. Adding more water as necessary, he used his palms and his fingers (pinching and cupping and massaging like it was a lover) to shape the clay in the distinct shape of an amphorae, wide bodied and narrow necked. He repeated the process with the other four lumps, then placed them all on a shelf—one that he’d installed himself—to dry. He’d wait for a day before doing the finer work and the handles.
So he went off for the night.
The next morning, he came back earlier than he usually did, before it was even light. Settling in, he grabbed some more clay, rolling it out into cylinders. He was so focused on the work, losing himself in the repetitive and increasingly familiar motions, that he lost track of his surroundings.
by being moved I exert my empire,
making the dreams of night real
AMUN
