ooc: I have a craving for mulled wine so I might have Álarr do that but he's happy to help with lessons on tea making as well if you want.

Picking up a stick between his teeth Álarr stirred the coals and shifted his position so his back was to the wind. Autumn seemed to have arrived far earlier than expected, and with a vengeance. Cold air was blowing down from the north and so the healer decided to warm himself with a far. Not long after he had run into a strange group of creatures inviting him to a feast. Figuring it wouldn't hurt to see what this was about he was determined to make some tea to bring to the festival feast. Although… Álarr dug through his pack and found a bottle of wine. Mulled wine was another thought. Decisions, decisions… he started pulling out a number of items, ceramic bowls, jars of dried herbs and rinds, and a metal vessel he'd retrieved from a human dwelling.

OOC: Changed my mind and decided Mitros needed the skill points more then Acacius does!

Mitros had come from admiring the fog-shrouded statue in the nearby woods before heading off to the main festival region to craft and deliver preparations for the feast. It was the most important part in his mind - wolves needed to eat and drink more than statues needed a headdress or cape. His talents would be best put to use on living creatures who could appreciate his gifts and not adorning piles of old stone.

The familiar form of one of many of his family members caught his eye as he traversed the river, easily convincing him to adjust his path. What was the difference if he finished his craft here, with company, rather than at the stone steppes where it was to be delivered? "Grand uncle!" Mitros greeted with a grin, tail wagging slightly behind him. Since Fireside had disbanded he'd hardly seen a trace of his family - being a loner was, well, lonely. It was nice to see a familiar face once more. "What are you working on?"

Taking a seat beside the man he pulled for his own satchel, withdrawing from it the bundle of short sticks, obsidian shards and vine that he'd scavenged earlier. Drawing one stick in between his paws, he began to fasten the obsidian stones to the stick in the first of many decorative short spears. The sticks he had already soaked and spent time slowly bending and now each curved deeply. When placed all together, Mitros intended them to form a sort of bowl shape - something suitable to hold an offering of meat or something, functional and decorative as the spearheads jutted outward.

"Speech"

Álarr set the steel pot up over the hot coals and added in the bottle of dry red wine. He had just passed Brynhildr a bone knife so she could start slicing the oranges and apples when a familiar face arrived. Álarr smiled. "Mitros! It is good to see you again. Have you been well?" Since joining with Avalon he hadn't seen much of Jupiter and his brood though it looked like the pups were yearlings now. They were growing well and he could only assume they were now off on their own adventures.

"Mulled wine. I can think of no better drink for a festival in cooler weather." He glanced again and the trees around him that had already donned their autumn leaves and whenever a gust of wind would come up it would send the leaves tumbling and dancing through the air. He turned his head to grab some small jars of cinnamon sticks and star anise to help season the wine. He also had some honey. Using his teeth he popped the cork out of the honey jar before pausing to see what his young nephew was doing.

"What do you have there?" Álarr gestured to the stick that Mitros was working on.

Continuing to fasten the obsidian shards to the sticks, Mitros split his attention easily between his craft and his grand uncle as he spoke. Wine was likely to be a thing wolves would appreciate in the festivities, and while he never took to the taste himself he could see the consideration that went into the decision. "Adults and their wine." He mused, playful. "I'm doing well as I can be. A bit lonely, though, I miss Fireside. I suppose if I had gone to the pirates like my father had planned, I'd be making some wine too. Never understood the draw, however." The spears were going quickly, nearly half of the bent sticks wearing their obsidian tips.

"I'm not sure what you'd call it, a bowl I suppose. It's just a decoration, I plan to have it look like spears surrounding the bowl for some sort of centerpiece." Mitros had not been taught many skills aside from basic hunting and fighting, crafting was a new thing for him. If he'd had known this festival was coming he'd have bribed Corbie to let him keep one of the elephant tusks from their prey so long ago. It would have been equally as aesthetic with a hell of a lot less work.

"Speech"

Álarr chuckled at the comment about wine. "Maybe when you're older you'll understand. Some times a good glass of wine helps ease the mind and body when stress lays on its heavy paw." He paused a bit at the mention of being lonely. Álarr had often wondered how the younger ones had been doing but he didn't want to overstep his boundaries either. He poured in the jar of honey, using a bone ladle to stir everything a bit more before adding in a touch of brandy as well.

"I haven't heard yet if any of your siblings have joining the pirates. I've joined Avalon myself. A pack centered more on crafting and trading. The raucous ways of the pirates are a bit to much for me any more I think. Though I'm sure they live a very exciting life." He snickered. Knowing Sparrow she would go out of her way to keep things interesting and as much as he loved to fight his real joy was healing and as he aged he wanted life to slow down a little bit more.

Álarr added in the sliced apples and oranges as well as some cranberries. He finished by adding in the cinnamon sticks and star anise. Now he just needed to simmer the wine for a bit and transport it. "It's a nice bowl. If you'd like anything to put in it let me know. I have some dried meats and fruits, and of course plenty of herbs." After all until very recently it had been the height of summer.

Alarr mentioned him perhaps acquiring the taste when he was older and Mitros gave the man a grin. "We'll see. So far I've not encountered a paw heavy enough that I cannot carry it myself." He finished with the last of the short spears, using his paws to gather them into a bundle and put them gently to the side so he could grab for the next material he needed. Vine and catgut, to bind it all together. "I have heard nothing of my siblings either, or even of my father." In fact, he hardly knew where anyone went. Tyrfing had travelled with him for a time and Mitros had heard he'd joined Avalon too. Perhaps it was a decent alternative, but a peaceful pack sounded so unlike his family and so unfamiliar a lifestyle.

At Alarr's offer Mitros' head tipped in thought. "I'd like that, thank you." It would be beneficial if he could bring something in the bowl, even if the familiars running the event chose to swap it out for something else. He continued his work, weaving the cat gut and vine tightly so the many spears would lay right against the next, though ensuring they curved inward slightly rather than lay horizontal. It took some time, but the bowl began to take shape before his eyes. There were still gaps in the wood that he did not anticipate, but before he dropped off his own offering he would find a pelt of some sort to line the bottom so smaller pieces did not fall through.

"Speech"