Shifting in the shadows, Kahlua was surprised by what the crafter had gathered them there to teach. Rope making. Of course. Dragomir was so much smarter than she was, she was certain of it. Though she had been a master of her magic, creating glass items with an ease that seemed to come naturally to her, she had not been smart enough to think of other things to create or make, to weave or meld together. But it seemed Dragomir had. Despite their newly strained relationship, Kahlua was not upset that he was their Glazier. His contributions to the herd had been vast already, and it seemed that they would continue to be so.

But her attempts at hiding, at hovering unseen, have failed her. She is no sneak trained in the art of stealth. She considers leaving as Dragomir's ears fall back slightly, her own shifting in much the same way as she is uncomfortable with his anger, but she considers what other possibilities she has to be useful to the herd and decides that this is the only one. In much the same way that she is no sneak, she proved with her challenge that she was no warrior. She was not smart, so she would never fit in with the philosophers, and being a nurse required just as much brains. Kahlua could not remember one plant from the next, even if she tried. No, the only thing she was good for was making pretty things. Even if she and Dragomir were fighting for some reason still unbeknownst to her, she was a crafter through and through.

She emerged from the shadows, a soft smile trying to cross her face at Dragomir's laughter and joke, but the effect was dampened by her depression. For a sense of comfort, she made her way to her head-bobbing friend. Nasreen had grown on her immediately and Kahlua found that their two personalities melded together quite well. Brushing her side against Nasreen, if Nasreen would allow it, Kahlua was quick to follow Dragomir's instructions and gather up a fresh vine.

She takes note that she should have something to crush it against and almost moves to join him at his own table, happily comfortable with being in front of a large crowd, but the idea of Dragomir yelling at her for coming too close leaves her to following Nasreen to the rocky outcropping on the edge of the clearing. Slowly and methodically, she beings pressing down on the end of the vine. At first she does so too softly, the vine merely squishing beneath her hoof and springing back to its normal vigor. But she tries again, pressing harder, watching Dragomir as he wiggles his hoof softly back and forth and she follows suit. It is not perfect, for she has not had as much practice as Dragomir himself, but it looks ok and she is not too upset by it.

Encouragingly, though in a very flat tone, she says to Nasreen near-by, “It's ok, friend. You'll get it- just keep trying...” a soft smile turned up the edges of her lips, but it did not last long. For a moment, though, curiosity overtook the queen and she turned back to Dragomir as she continued separating the strands, nosing them apart as Dragomir was doing as well. “How did you figure out how to make rope?”


@[Dragomir] @[Nasreen]