amun
The potter’s wheel was spinning, and it had a lump of clay on it. Amun’s brow was furrowed in concentration as his left hand reached for the unshaped clay, fingers dripping with water. Beginning to shape in the simplest of shapes, a bowl, he pinched his fingers, trying to follow the motions that had once been so familiar to him.
But one-handed, his dominant hand crushed beyond even his body's ability to repair, he couldn't work they clay as effortlessly as he used to be able to. The bowl came out lumpy and uneven, as had the countless previous attempts he'd tried since LongHeat started. Sighing, he pressed it back together in a solid lump, and tossed it back with the rest of the clay.
Then he snatched up the walking stick that lay nearby, and limped for the doorway. Unfortunately, as he arrived, he realized he didn't have any particular destination in mind, so he just slumped against the doorway. Shockingly, he found someone he recognized out there. "Hey Oia'i'o." The foreign syllables fell easily and confidently from his tongue, but his voice lacked the cheerfully teasing tone it had when she'd seen him last. "What're you up to?" He tucked his ruined hand behind his back. The apron he wore was splattered with bits of clay, but he didn't care, or even notice.
But one-handed, his dominant hand crushed beyond even his body's ability to repair, he couldn't work they clay as effortlessly as he used to be able to. The bowl came out lumpy and uneven, as had the countless previous attempts he'd tried since LongHeat started. Sighing, he pressed it back together in a solid lump, and tossed it back with the rest of the clay.
Then he snatched up the walking stick that lay nearby, and limped for the doorway. Unfortunately, as he arrived, he realized he didn't have any particular destination in mind, so he just slumped against the doorway. Shockingly, he found someone he recognized out there. "Hey Oia'i'o." The foreign syllables fell easily and confidently from his tongue, but his voice lacked the cheerfully teasing tone it had when she'd seen him last. "What're you up to?" He tucked his ruined hand behind his back. The apron he wore was splattered with bits of clay, but he didn't care, or even notice.
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me
