Out under the mild winter sun on the Moor was the place this time of year. She had considered doing another soap making lesson, but then decided it was probably a bit advanced at this stage, particularly with the risk of burns, so she had instead set out some shells and feathers, bits of pliable branch and cords. There were even some reed baskets that had been started, enough to give the children a head start should they choose to try their paws at that instead. There wasn't going to be a huge amount of structure to this lesson, it was mostly about giving the kids a way to express themselves that might be useful to the pack in the long run. Modesty was growing tired of hiking all the way to the north to attend the markets, and she was cooking on a plan of her own.

"speech"

-intel lesson 1/3-

Korona strolled over, her eyes flicking over the array of supplies laid out before her mother. Shells, feathers, branches, other crud she didn’t know the name of. It was like a treasure trove. She grinned, already imagining what kind of mischief she could create with the bits and bobs, maybe throw them at her siblings, or something.

“That looks like a mess’a fun!” Korona declared, flopping down on the ground with a dramatic flourish of her chubby limbs. “Not bad, Ma. Not bad at all! Ya know, I bet I can make somethin’ way cooler than those baskets ya started. They look awlright, but I’ve got a feelin’ I could do something a bit more me.” What did that really mean, the young girl didn’t know. Maybe she’d spin a feather badly around a rock and call it a day. Speaking of..

The galactic pup squirmed to scoot her body closer to the supplies, unwilling to get up and do it the easy way. This was more fun. Sideways and all. She picked up a feather with her mouth, twirling it between her teeth and tongue before a hack interrupted her antics. Quickly the girl rose and spat the feather out, brows furrowed as she recovered from the moment of choking she'd just had. No one saw that, right?

THE KRAKEN

Unfortunately for his boisterous sister, Corsair had seen her almost choke on a feather and his face twisted into a sneer, an actual chuckle pulled from his chest. He had spent the better part of the morning running between the goats, still torn between taking out a femoral artery and just... moving them from one place to another. The physical movement gave the boy a bit of peace, some of the intensity tempered, but none of the savage intelligence, if only for now. "Impossible to underestimate, as always, dear sister mine." he greeted her with a shit eating grin. Gaze roving over the gathered materials, and settling on one of the partially weaved baskets, turning it this way and that, calculating gaze weighing up the options before him.

"speech"

Cutlass approaches directly after Corsair, inclining his head at Korona and offering a tiny smile. he's a rather polite child, always comically well-mannered to his siblings no matter how ridiculous their antics. now, however, his eyes are drawn to the materials spread out before them. making a noise of interest, Las peers closer and begins to carefully inspect each item, rolling several over to check all sides. attention shifting to the baskets, he spends the next several minutes turning each over and nosing at the seams, attempting to figure out the mechanics. it seems to be comprised largely of...braids, if he remembers the word correctly. once he's reasonably confident in his understanding, he sets the baskets aside and begins to attempt to make his own, settling back on his haunches and working at a slow measured pace. aside from a little scrunch between his brows when particularly confused, he remains a silent present at the edge of the group, determined to replicate his mother's example.

Sauntering in on the tail of her brothers, she missed Kor's feather incident, though she did take a moment to stare in wonder at Corsair's face. Something was... off... He was smiling?! She didn't bother to mask her surprise as she moved to paw her way through some clay beads that had been painted with glossy paint and shells that already had holes punched through their tops. She quickly cottoned onto the expectation that they would be making something, though what that something was, she wondered if this was a free for all, or if her mother was going to speak up and offer them some direction.

Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth as she tried to line up the thin leather cord with the small hole in a sea shell, the image of concentration, despite the way the cord kept bending and not quite going through the slightly too small hole.

"speech"

Sight was not all she would need to see the world around her. Following behind the scents of her congregating siblings, Pythia doesn't stop as she comes up behind Gilda. Sliding her shoulder along her sister, she turns her foggy gaze to Gilda with a brief smile before stepping in front of the group of pups. Once her paw plants firmly on a bead, quickly pulling back with a surprised yelp, Pythia moves back and gives her paw a shake. She lets out a quick grumble before plopping down on her butt into an awkward sitting position.

"Didn't think we'd be playing with dangerous stuff already," she mumbles under her breath, brow furrowing as she leans her face down toward the ground. With her front paws splayed out, nose reaching as far as it can forward, Pythia attempts to sniff at the different objects in front of Modesty. They aren't particularly familiar scents, but the scent of Modesty herself doesn't help her identify much of anything. "What are we doing with these items?" Pythia questions rather aggressively, her curiosity impatient and demanding.

"speech"

Lyra was always in the back, for whatever reason. Whether that reason was herding her siblings or just letting others take the lead. She didn't mind going where the crowds went. Today, thankfully, was not another fighting lesson. Her little body was quite sore. Trailing close behind Pythia, she arrived just in time to see Korona nearly inhale a feather.

It wasn't that comical, but Korona's look was funny enough to make Lyra burst out laughing. It was only funny because Kor was okay in the end. The small pup would walk beside Pyth and moved to sit down until she heard a rustle. Her eyes would follow the noise and see Gilda messing with... something. Not knowing what it was only made her want to know even more. Quickly, she would bound over and shove her nose in the way, sniffing and trying to understand. When she couldn't figure it out, she would look at Gilda's face and into her eyes, expecting some explanation.

She wouldn't wait for one. Instead, she would clumsily sprint over to Modesty. There were so many things! A half-started basket (boring), some seashells, some... clay? Her head would tilt with curiosity, even some branches and cords. Lyra would giggle, moving her right paw over everything. Feeling. So many different things. She loved sensory play and exploring different textures. A paw much too big for her body would smack the small items around one more time before she started to grab what she wanted. An awful lot of seashells, some cord, a small branch, and a feather.

How could she make all these fun things into one big fun thing? After a few trips, Lyra settled away from everybody else. She did not want to be bothered while she focused. Maybe I can make a toy for Pythia! She recalled an older wolf mentioning the alabaster pup's lack of sight and how losing one sense only enhances others. Maybe she would enjoy the soft-feely things? Maybe she would like the gentle chime of the seashells against each other as much as Lyra did.

And so she had a purpose. First, she would try her hardest to bore holes into the flimsy branch. Unfortunately, her milk teeth were not gone yet, so this was going to be the hardest part. Or so she thought. Either way, she was having a lot of fun, her small tail thumping hard against the soft moor.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

She was delighted to see Kor was the first to track her down. She gave the girl a proud smile that morphed into a chuckle when she choked on a feather. There was nothing malicious in the gesture, but she also knew the girl was in no real danger. Corsair's comment receives a raised brow, but actually seeing emotion on his face? Hearing a chuckle? Her heart catches in her chest just a moment.

Cutlass is quick to follow, less inclined than his siblings to tinker but she doesn't mind, and Gilda, always fearless plops herself down and gets to work. Pythia makes a comment about danger and Modesty forces herself to hold her position. Coddling the girl wouldn't make life any easier on her. She would need to figure out how to navigate the world in her own unique way, and anything the mother tried to do would only set her back. Life was cruel, and she might have distanced herself from the girl in the beginning, not expecting her to last as long as she had.

Lyra busied herself with the items as Pythia demanded to know just what they were doing. "Today we are making. Useful things like baskets or bowls, or pretty but useless things like charms and decorations. Others place value on these items, and we can sell or trade them to other wolves for resources we might not otherwise have access to. You will need to feel your way around whichever you chose to do," If she wanted help, she could ask for it, another important lesson for the girl.

"speech"

-intel lesson 2/3-

Korona's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and defiance as her siblings bore witness to her less-than-graceful moment. Corsair’s chuckle and teasing comment earned him an indignant glare. ‘Impossible to underestimate, as always, dear sister mine.’ He said with a grin, his amusement clear.

Korona puffed up, trying to muster some dignity. Cutlass offered only a tiny, polite smile, his usual reserved self. Korona appreciated that small mercy, though it did little to soothe her wounded pride. Lyra's burst of laughter was the final straw, but she quickly distracted herself with the task at hand, leaving Korona to stew in her own mortification.

She shuffled closer, eager to prove herself despite the earlier mishap. Her mother’s lesson began in earnest, and Korona focused on her words, absorbing the knowledge. The lesson was about making. Baskets, bowls, charms, and decorations. Oh wow! Okay! Korona fluffed up her cosmic coat, and set to work. She grasped some feathers and cords, her tongue sticking out for a moment before she grinned and twisted her skull, plucking a small quill from her shoulders and beginning to twist the cord-feather combination around it.

THE KRAKEN

The words falling from her mother's mouth force her ears to lay flat against her head. Brows furrow slightly as she continues to nose around at the items in front of her. She can feel the softness of feathers, the roundness of beads, those are items she can identify. As she continues to nose around, Pythia even feels the reed baskets with their ends poking out in different directions and the rough edges of sea shells and the pliable soft branches that feel almost squishy between her lips.

What was her mother expecting her to do with any of this? Pretty things and useless baubles literally meant nothing to her. Even a bowl... How was she supposed to weave a basket if she had no idea what it looked like? A grumble forces itself up her throat as she scoots backward and up into a sitting position. Perhaps if she figured out how to put some of the beads and shells on the cording.

Disgruntled, but not deterred, Pythia reaches back out with her paws. They tap at the array of items until she lands on a length of cording. Once its in her grasp, she quietly asks her mother for help with tying a knot in one end. To her surprise and with much clumsy movements, Modesty helps Pythia figure it out by using her teeth and toes to feel the cording. After a moment or so, she has a knot! Now it was time to find some items that could be threaded onto the cord...

"speech"

Cutlass stills as Modesty begins to speak, listening dutifully. he considers her statement carefully, humming in thought as he spins his half-made basket around in a little circle. value. he'd thought this a simple crafting exercise, but his mother's words shed an entirely new light on the activity. they could curry favour with these, could exchange them for goods and services, use them as tools and gifts to better their lives or endear themselves to others. it's an intriguing line of thought, one he keeps pondering as he sets his basket to the side. though it's taking shape, its structure is too fragile, the bowl curving inward in a facsimile of a circle. not something anyone would trade for. picking himself up, he moves back to the box and rummages through it, plucking up items to examine. after a few minutes, he settles on a handful of feathers and a roll of cord. returning to his project, Cutlass threads the cord through his bowl to help stabilize its inner shell, intermittently tying in feathers in alternating colours. not only does the basket gain a more circular shape, but the feathers render it more visually appealing. less...plain. lifting his head, Cutlass glances at Pythia, ensuring she's not struggling too badly. he worries for her, though he tries not to hover and coddle. she'll be a raider, after all, and their lifestyle holds its own dangers.

Sitting here now, watching his siblings, he realises not all of them have the range of movement he does with his paws. Brows pinch for just a moment before he focuses on shredding the reeds that started the basket and braiding them back together to add extra texture to the raw material. He half listened to his mother as he ferreted through the supplies finding some shells with holes punched in them already and using the shredded reeds as string to weave them into his work. It was taking shape more slowly than he would have liked, but he looked over to see Cutlass had a similar idea but with feathers and far more uniformity to the creation. His creation wouldn't be good for much more than a vase, but he was sure there was someone out there that would appreciate the detail in it. He looked to his mother for approval only momentarily before focusing back on his task.

"speech"

Gilda listened to her mother explain what they would be doing as she shuffled through the supplies, brain finally ticking over to the challenge that faced her. She needed to make the hole just a little bit bigger, and finally her golden gaze fell on a long straight bit of metal. She placed the narrow tip in the hole and found a rock to smack it down with. A small piece of shell broke away from the hole and the cord slipped straight through.

Unable to contain her enthusiasm, she tried on another shell and broke the thing clean in half, a frown pulling at the corner of her lips as she sighed out her nose. Maybe beads would balance the design out better? She pawed through the offerings, finally settling on a few she liked and started to thread them onto the cord either side of the shell. She thought it was coming together quite nicely.

"speech"

Although focused, Lyra would never be too focused to not know what was happening with her siblings. Every once in a while, she would take a momentary break to scan her surroundings, her eyes meeting the face of each sibling. Assessing their emotions and frustrations should their face show it. An ear would perk up, listening to Modesty's explanation for Pythia.

Lyra looked at the two, reading the confusion on her sister's face. Watching her sister struggle pulled at her heartstrings. She really wanted to help and even felt guilty for not offering. However, no one else was. Mother was only offering what was absolutely necessary. It was hard, but it was imperative. There was even more purpose to finish the toy now, almost a way for Lyra to say sorry for not helping. Not that anyone was asking, but Lyra was quickly learning that familial duties shouldn't even need to be requested. You should just know what to do or be there even if you don't.

Further burying herself in her work, every failure would be answered with even more vigor. Each time she was a little closer to figuring it out only motivated her more and more. Eventually, she would successfully push the cord through the hole her fangs bore in the stick. It required her to tie a loose knot around a skinnier stick. This way she could needle the cord through. Modesty's words echoed through her mind, "Useful things like baskets or bowls, or pretty but useless things like charms and decorations.". She realized she did not want a pretty useless thing for her sister... she wanted to help. How could she?

Many ideas cycled through her mind, she tried really hard to put herself in the paler pup's paws... If she did not have sight, then what would she rely on? Scent? Yes... but Lyra could not come up with anything that could help her sister with that specific sense. What else? The way the world felt... That was too broad of a sense for Lyra to figure out what to do with.

What about sound?

An idea clicked in her head. Remembering all the sweet twinkles and chimes of the different materials interacting. In the doorway of some merchant dens, there were little chimes hanging. These were great at letting merchants know whenever someone entered. You couldn't help but brush against the long strings, which made a distinct noise. Lyra remembered how she found those things scratched her brain in a satisfying way. So, eventually, Pythia would have a room of her own. As much as Lyra preferred everyone to stay together forever, she was not foolish enough to know that would happen. It would be important for her to know! What if someone meant to harm Pythia? How could she hear them if they didn't have these chimes!?

Immediately she buried the stick in her maw, gnawing new holes in. This time much closer in order to pipe more strings through. Eventually, she would loop the string around or through the various beads and shells and whatnot. She may need her mother's assistance when that time came but she would try her hardest before asking.


"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Modesty moved to help Pythia figure out how to knot her cord and looked over the others as she supported the girl. When Korona plucked one of her quills to include, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, "Be extra careful who you give that one to, you've got God-blood and I'd hate to see it turned against you." Perhaps, in the right paws it could be significant, but it was as good a time as any to warn all her children against giving part of themselves away.

Modesty shuffled some larger beads and gumnuts that had the backs bored out of them towards Pythia, they would be easier for her to work with than feathers or string. She also dragged over some bleached vertebrae and shed antlers that had been broken down and hollowed out until they were ring like. There was plenty for the girl to work with within her grasp.

Cutlass set to work on a basket, and she offered him an encouraging smile, "Those colours really go together well! Be mindful of your intent while you work too. The finished piece will give off it's own energy." Not to be outdone, Corsair was also working on a basket, though this one was much smaller, probably only wide enough to hold a couple of flower stems. "Interesting concept Corsair," She wanted to encourage each of her kids, if only a little to keep them on task.

Gilda had realised the provided materials weren't to her liking and in her enthusiasm, managed to shatter one of the shells. "No shortage of shells down on the beach, I'm sure you can put this one to use somehow too, just be mindful of the sharp edges." Especially around your blind sister went without saying.

Lyra was working on something like a windchime, and Modesty shifted herself closer so Pythia was still within reach if she needed assistance or explanation of what she was working with, but also in case Lyra needed help with threading or balancing once she got nearer to the end of her construction. "This is going to be wonderful once it's done, make sure to tap the items against each other to make sure the sound is pleasant... unless the intention is to gift it to our enemies." Her smile was sweet, but humour laced her tone at the tease.

"speech"

-intel lesson 3/3-

Pythia's other senses send her nerves on end every so often. It felt as if a thousand eyes were staring at her at all times. A sensation that she could never really rid herself of, but one she told herself must be from the gods, from Abraxas himself. If she were to know it was actually her siblings constantly checking on her wellbeing, she might've been rightly pissed off. Just because she was blind didn't make her stupid or incompetent. Such were the feelings of uselessness though their every intention was to support her and provide her with the best opportunity of survival.

Maybe she was like these doo-dads they were constructing. Useless, but sometimes useful. She didn't know if she was pretty, she never would, but she also would never know if anyone else was either so she was okay with that fact. A frustrated sigh leaves her as her mind continues to reel, paws fumbling over the different objects. Unknown to her that Modesty is pushing different, easier items for her to handle, Pythia believes they're already within grabbing distance.

The larger beads and hollowed out horns are differently much easier to slide onto the cording. After a few more beads and other baubles, she holds it out to Modesty, her head canting to the side. "I suppose it could be... a necklace?" Pythia inquires, still unsure of her creation.

"speech"

Korona focused intently on her craft, her mother’s words weaving through her thoughts as she worked. Her cosmic coat shimmered subtly in the light as she fidgeted with her chosen materials.

When her mother’s gentle warning reached her ears, Korona’s eyes flicked up briefly. ‘Be extra careful who you give that one to, you've got God-blood and I'd hate to see it turned against you.’ The cautionary note struck her, and she felt the stirrings of great curiosity for what those words really meant. Still, she nodded subtly, acknowledging her mother’s advice.

Korona’s paws moved again, intertwining the cord and feathers with the quill she had plucked. She was mindful of each twist and turn, infusing her work with care and intent. Her mother’s voice floated over to Cutlass, offering encouragement, and then to Corsair, praising his concept. Then Korona heard Modesty address Gilda’s mishap with a shell, and Lyra’s wind chime project earned a teasing comment. Korona couldn’t help but smile. And finally, when she completed her project, she had herself a necklace, complete with quill and feathers.

THE KRAKEN

around him, his siblings work dutifully, each putting their own spin on the task. Las smiles, soft and fond. he loves his siblings, loves each of their big personalities and little quirks, loves that they’re all their own people. he nods to Modesty as she passes, quickly basking in his mother’s praise. her approval fills him like sunlight, warming him from the inside and spurring him to complete his basket as quickly as possible. working steadily, blocking out the rest of the world, Las ties off the final cord and steps back to admire his creation. it’s not…perfect, but it’s at least his. and it’ll hold stuff, which is kind of the purpose of a basket, right? Las spins it in a circle, skimming it for every flaw and imperfection. he makes a mental list of everything he’ll do better next time, then sits and lets himself bask in the simple satisfaction of a task complete. he’s not the most creative, but he’s determined, and sometimes that’s not so dissimilar.

"Cutlass Fallen"

Lyra was so engaged in her work that time seemed to glide away. She seemed to lack any conscious control and was just doing. Bore another hole. Pipe a string. Thread in the tingly items. Tie a knot? That required some assistance from Modesty. It was hard at first, but once she got the movements down the redundancy quickly became meditative in a way.

Some more time passed and the inaudible noise of Modesty's voice signaled she was making her rounds again. Lyra didn't realize this though, so absorbed in her task- in her need to succeed. The presence of her mother would bring her back down, the comfort of her celestial pelt and familiar scent seemed to snap Lyra out of her focus. She tried to keep going although she felt a little more pressure with her mother watching so closely. Did she think it was stupid? Was there a better way for Lyra to do this?

Neither of those things. Instead, Modesty gave her daughter praise. No, she gave something even better- validation. Belief in Lyra's creation. The young girl's tail thumped against the floor in excitement, her heart picking up pace as she stopped what she was doing to give Modesty her full attention. She took the advice to heart and nodded her head. While the last piece of commentary was food for thought, Lyra did not dwell on it for long. This was not for an enemy, it was for her sister.

*****

Her little paws were cramping by now and her jaw was tired of gnawing. However, when she tied that last knot, she couldn't help but be proud. This was worth it. Hopefully Pythia would see the point in it. A proud smile would come and not leave her face for a while. Lyra stood tall and stretched, looking around at all her siblings who either finished far before her or were close to wrapping it up. She looked at Korona and the necklace, it seemed cool. The feathers must have been hard to work with, she remembered how she tried to incorporate such things but quickly dropped the idea after discovering how dainty feathers were.

Next, her eyes would move to look at Cutlass. His basket was impressive, to say the least. She could only imagine how sore his paws were after all of that weaving. Others were working on their items but they were just far enough that she couldn't quite see what it was they were working on.

Finally, Pythia would be done. Her sister didn't look as happy as she was hoping. Perhaps her gift would cheer her up?

"Pythia!", she would call before she picked up the main branch, "I've got this for you!", she exclaimed. Although her words were muffled and nearly indecipherable behind the branch she carried. Proudly she carried over the chime. Setting it before her sister, she took a moment to lay the strings so Pythia could feel it.

"go ahead! Touch it! I made it for you! It's a little thingy- I don't know what it's called.... but if you hang it in the doorway, it makes a noise, so you know when you have visitors!" She eagerly brushed her paw against it, the chime made a half hearted rustle. There could have been far more strings and those strings could have been more densely packed with stones, shells, and other knickknacks. But it was the first thing Lyra created and she saw no flaw.


"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Gilda pulled a face at her mother's retreating back but tucked away the broken shell shards to use for something later. Maybe they'd be good for something pottery related? She busied herself threading on the beads, finding a few smoothed bits of sea glass to catch the light with a hint of twinkle that someone else had already bored holes into.

When she felt she had enough, she grabbed one of the finished baskets and wove the thread onto the sides like a decorated handle, there that felt suitably... beach kitsch-ie, right? Pretty and useful, for someone with more gems than sense. Sitting back proudly she looked over the work her siblings had created, and her brows twitched down. Was this really a lesson, of was her mother really exploiting child labour?

"speech"