amun
Surprisingly, Amun was actually working when Maea entered the studio. It was a modest business. There was a kiln in one corner, a cot in the other. Against one wall, there was a table with a stool. On the table, there was clay in various stages of work along with the tools to work it. Shelves lined the walls, with various completed ceramics on them. In the center of the room was a pottery wheel.
He was seated at the wheel, a half-finished pot between his hands. As she entered, he glanced up, then immediately looked back down, fingers carefully shaping the clay. A bucket of water was on the ground next to him, and he had an apron on. The apron (and the rest of his clothes) were splattered with bits of clay. "So she finally made it!" His voice was cheerful.
He was seated at the wheel, a half-finished pot between his hands. As she entered, he glanced up, then immediately looked back down, fingers carefully shaping the clay. A bucket of water was on the ground next to him, and he had an apron on. The apron (and the rest of his clothes) were splattered with bits of clay. "So she finally made it!" His voice was cheerful.
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me
