OWL: Tis the season
Date: 23rd December 2004
Characters: Jack Sloper
Location: Jack's Workshop
Status: Private
Summary: Jack gets in the festive spirit.
Completion: Complete.
Finally. Two bastard weeks, three incarnations and a handful of cuts, nicks, scratches and trips to Andromeda later, it was finally done. It was only the size of his palm, but he was able to say he was happy with the finished product, at last. He'd gone through almost all of his supply of Butternut wood to create the small representation of a kitten that he planned to give Ginny, but he didn't mind. The grains had sanded up to a nice, high gloss, the entire process reminding him of working with Lindenwood, although this had been imported from Canada as opposed to the States. He treated certain areas with painstaking care, using no more than a coated cocktail stick at points to accent and highlight, shade and shadow with Tung oil, the stain providing highlights to the natural, coarse, Walnut-like grain. He'd only seen the small kitten that Ginny had adopted once (and, as per his prediction, it had hated him, hissing when he got close, and (he was sure) watching him with its beady, black little eyes), but that had been enough contact for him to memorise the shape of the ears and paws, the colourations of its fur and the shape of its nose. He'd begun to carve the little figurine long ago, his interest in woodcarving taking a mysterious upturn at the same time. Brushing the remaining flecks of sawdust from its surface, he held it up to the light, checking for any jagged or uneven edges for a final time before his disappeared into his store cupboard. He returned a few moments later, the deep, midnight blue gift box held posessively between his hands. He sighed lightly, as he blew the settling off of the top. No matter how hard he tried, he could never keep anything immaculate for long. Placing the carving gently, almost reverently inside, he reset the lid before he took it away from his equipment, murmuring a specific sealing charm on the box that would only let a person who had affection, serch for the caster open it. He hoped it would be a nice touch, as he tucked it back into the storecupboard, wrapping it in a dust sheet.
Frowning, he wondered if it was too little. Or too much, was it too personal a gift? Was it too poor a gift? He shook his head, he didn't have the money to spend on anything nice, and he wasn't sure anyway what stage they were at for gift giving. The kitten was personal, without being too personal. It had affection, and love in it, and he'd got a wizard up in Camden Lock to charm it to prowl and move when strong emotions were felt, so it had a kind of magical edge to it too. Added to the flowers he planned on giving her in the morning, he thought that was enough. Cracking open a bottle of beer, he took a long, celebratory draught before he turned his mind to the other box that lay on his workside. It wasn't quite so nice looking as the one he'd planned on giving to Ginny, but it was still pleasant in its own right. He took out a pen and paper, starting to write a note to the intended recipient as Kali fluttered down the stairs, her odd sixth sense telling her she was needed without him even asking.
Roger,
I hope you'll excuse the lack of a card mate, I thought it was fairly gay enough already that one bloke is getting another a Christmas present, heh. When I first started working in carpentry, and I'd completed my unofficial internship with the lads who'd taught me on a couple of jobs, one of the old boys gave me his hammer. He said it was some tradition that he'd been taught when he was training, and the guy who taught him before that, and before that etc.
Anyway, you've come a long way in the last few months, and I've appreciated both your help and your friendship a great deal mate. So yeah, here's mine. Just pass it on if you find occasion. Hope you have a great Christmas.
- Jack.
Characters: Jack Sloper
Location: Jack's Workshop
Status: Private
Summary: Jack gets in the festive spirit.
Completion: Complete.
Finally. Two bastard weeks, three incarnations and a handful of cuts, nicks, scratches and trips to Andromeda later, it was finally done. It was only the size of his palm, but he was able to say he was happy with the finished product, at last. He'd gone through almost all of his supply of Butternut wood to create the small representation of a kitten that he planned to give Ginny, but he didn't mind. The grains had sanded up to a nice, high gloss, the entire process reminding him of working with Lindenwood, although this had been imported from Canada as opposed to the States. He treated certain areas with painstaking care, using no more than a coated cocktail stick at points to accent and highlight, shade and shadow with Tung oil, the stain providing highlights to the natural, coarse, Walnut-like grain. He'd only seen the small kitten that Ginny had adopted once (and, as per his prediction, it had hated him, hissing when he got close, and (he was sure) watching him with its beady, black little eyes), but that had been enough contact for him to memorise the shape of the ears and paws, the colourations of its fur and the shape of its nose. He'd begun to carve the little figurine long ago, his interest in woodcarving taking a mysterious upturn at the same time. Brushing the remaining flecks of sawdust from its surface, he held it up to the light, checking for any jagged or uneven edges for a final time before his disappeared into his store cupboard. He returned a few moments later, the deep, midnight blue gift box held posessively between his hands. He sighed lightly, as he blew the settling off of the top. No matter how hard he tried, he could never keep anything immaculate for long. Placing the carving gently, almost reverently inside, he reset the lid before he took it away from his equipment, murmuring a specific sealing charm on the box that would only let a person who had affection, serch for the caster open it. He hoped it would be a nice touch, as he tucked it back into the storecupboard, wrapping it in a dust sheet.
Frowning, he wondered if it was too little. Or too much, was it too personal a gift? Was it too poor a gift? He shook his head, he didn't have the money to spend on anything nice, and he wasn't sure anyway what stage they were at for gift giving. The kitten was personal, without being too personal. It had affection, and love in it, and he'd got a wizard up in Camden Lock to charm it to prowl and move when strong emotions were felt, so it had a kind of magical edge to it too. Added to the flowers he planned on giving her in the morning, he thought that was enough. Cracking open a bottle of beer, he took a long, celebratory draught before he turned his mind to the other box that lay on his workside. It wasn't quite so nice looking as the one he'd planned on giving to Ginny, but it was still pleasant in its own right. He took out a pen and paper, starting to write a note to the intended recipient as Kali fluttered down the stairs, her odd sixth sense telling her she was needed without him even asking.
Roger,
I hope you'll excuse the lack of a card mate, I thought it was fairly gay enough already that one bloke is getting another a Christmas present, heh. When I first started working in carpentry, and I'd completed my unofficial internship with the lads who'd taught me on a couple of jobs, one of the old boys gave me his hammer. He said it was some tradition that he'd been taught when he was training, and the guy who taught him before that, and before that etc.
Anyway, you've come a long way in the last few months, and I've appreciated both your help and your friendship a great deal mate. So yeah, here's mine. Just pass it on if you find occasion. Hope you have a great Christmas.
- Jack.