Stuff that stabs

Arcturus picked up the bracers that he had made what felt like ages ago and walked out of the den they had been staying in for a while now, moving a short distance away till he reached a tree and settled under it in the shade. He got it in his head that he ought to improve these somehow or at least give them a better fit now that he had grown some and they surely wouldn't fit as well as they once had. If he was being honest with himself he couldn't remember the last time he put them on. With how long it had been since they were made in his mind he had expect there to be some wear and tear to fix, maybe a spike that had shifted out of place or one of the holes that the laces fed through was starting to get worn down. Anything that might have shown the use he had wanted to get out of them.

When he got settled down with the bracers between his white-dipped paws he started inspecting them, turning them over between his paws and searching for any kind of flaws. He didn't find any. They pretty much looked exactly as they did the day that he made them with their grandfather and that blacksmith back in Armada. His gray ears flicked at the revelation and he frowned as he pushed them away for a moment. He remembered when he was a pup, which in reality wasn't all that long ago even though it felt like it was, and how eager he had been to train and learn, all the fighting lessons he had done with his father... And now what was he doing with it? His armor was collecting dust, completely unused and unworn, and he couldn't remember the last time he had fount anything or gotten into a spar.

A frown pulled across his features as he realized he did remember the last time he had fought something at least—it was the polar bear that killed his father. With a huff he picked up one of the bracers and started unlacing its bindings just to have something to do with his paws, telling himself he might as well try them on to make sure they still fit properly so that he could say he had done something today. That seemed to be his goal each and every day—just do something so that he didn't feel like his day was completely pointless. Fixing and working on pieces of armor that didn't need fixing or working probably shouldn't count, but now here he was with no other plans and he didn't know what else to do with his time.

WC: 453/1500

"Arcturus Citlali Indarra"