punk flophouse

It had been a day or two since his run in with the sabre cat, and he was still looking beat to hell. He'd seen someone about the worst of his wounds, but he didn't want to sit around all day waiting to be healed up. He'd been able to keep the fangs of the immense beast, and today he was taking it easy by trying his hand at crafting something with them. It had been tedious work separating the tissues from the thick teeth, allowing him to pull them out with the root mostly intact. He was thinking of crafting a knife from one of them to give to his dad, even if it never got used. The other one? He wasn't totally sure. It might be fun to make a digging stick with it, by attaching a length of wood or bone to the end. Some of the pack's healers might be able to use it to make planting gardens an easier task. He'd think about it more while he worked.

Rather than waste any leather on a first draft, he'd collected some sinew and plant fibres to bind the handle to the blade. The first order of business today was going to be wearing down the edges of the tooth, honing it to a sharper edge than it would be naturally. He wondered if he should deepen the existing serrations, since they were rather minimal. So many options to consider, just to make a knife for Allegro. He braced the edge of the whetstone under one of his paws, and with his free paw and wrist set about slowly working the sharper edge against the grain.

The ivory boy glanced up from his work when he caught a familiar scent, a smile making its way onto his face. "Balthier!" he greeted his brother warmly, eyes crinkling at the corners. "What'cha doing?"

"Speech" thoughts "others"