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Silently he gazed with a polite gesture on his face. Crowley returned the greeting with a dip of his crown. It was too obvious at the balls of cotton that stood by his feet, and the summonings that his mentor was now going to teach his apprentice how to weave. Farenjer was appealed by it, not only now he had something to do, but he could keep moving forward with his ambitious thoughts. And Crowley was a high ranking brother in The Basin, having respects from all the others below and above himself. Farenjer knew he would not only get something of how to sew and weave out of his time training, but about political things as well.
He fixated his gaze onto the clumps of cotton below. The weaver began to take the material out of it's past state, beginning another project of his. Farenjer watched carefully in observation. Little thoughts were contained inside.
Farenjer watched carefully in observation. "Today, I'll be giving you your first lesson in weaving," He inquired. Farenjer felt warming inside as he configured that this was indeed a teaching to be taught towards him. Icy orbs flicked back onto a held gaze over the cotton that stretched and wove into each other. The threads of soft and fuzzy material becoming finer and finer as the Weaver worked. It was perplexing to watch, he had never seen his mentor in action before.
Crowley spoke, questioning him why he had decided to pick such a path. Farenjer could understand why though, the majority of The Basin herd-landers were apart of the soldier rank. Few were sorted into the stealth, intelligence, and healing in the herd. But there was only two, to be exact, herd-landers that trailed on the path of the crafter. That was Crowley, The Basin's Weaver and adviser to Lord and Lady. And then, there was Farenjer, the apprentice to be soon taught. He spoke
"I decided that nothing would fit better for me then to become an artisan... To make something beautiful, whether it be passive, or destructive. I also decided on it because I want to help others the best I can. And I can't do that by breaking limbs and harming our enemies all the time." He added with a little humor mixed into his tone. "And I'm sure if I tried to give someone medicine I'd of mixed things up and give them something poisonous instead."
Farenjer wanted to add in how he would of felt too under pressure to learn everything there is and speak of it right on time. Being a scholar was something he had felt he wanted to do as well... but he didn't want something that made him stressed. The path of the artisan was the way he wanted to go on. He could acknowledge how others felt the job to be patient and craft their luxuries was far from exciting. He would only have swept his tail and kept on doing whatever he had been doing.
"Thinking. Speaking. Acting."
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[O] Big Black Horse and the Cotton Tree
