To Dice is to Paint [Construction Job C]
Jul 10, 2018 16:10:38 GMT
Post by Sho Tsuginaga on Jul 10, 2018 16:10:38 GMT
Next stop, Rosewood!
With how Sho hopped between the jostling workers and his ears perked into the sky, the elegance of a Bastemon could be considered all but destroyed. Behind the lavender veil, he crumpled his mouth with blushing cheeks. He held back his bashfulness as much as he could, just trying to get somewhere his leaping leopard legs weren't at all out of place. When he finally got to a break in the working crowds, he could lightly twirl, even just to calm himself. Sho could breathe. He could have confidence in a single thing.
He could bring pride to the image of cats in a construction site.
Alas, to do so he'd still need another crowd. This time along the flattened way, hanging on the trail of a scent. Even behind his veil, Sho could smell the edible heaven hanging in the air. He began to bumble towards it with his nose, arriving at something only an infant would call a line. There was something to how the smell met his nose, a quite goofy incredulity. There was no way it could smell like human food. He was no stranger to his mind playing tricks on him.
The boy masquerading as a feline woman was no stranger to the mind playing tricks.
Sho still felt certain in his ability to contribute. Not certain enough to move into the kitchen without even stammering out a request, but the work funnel would wait for no one. This little station became something of a conveyor belt of manufactured nutrition, and Sho's claws were used for anything but passing ingredients around. Things needed to be cut, diced, shredded and peeled, and a Bastemon's claws were exceptionally suited for all of them. Every strange looking plant or somehow grown meat was turned into a scratching post for him.
A Bastemon's mind wouldn't accept sloppiness, and neither would Sho's. His wild slashes slowly approached something uniform and routine, a controlled burst of energy that didn't seem to burn out. It produced cubes and crescents and whatever other shapes these hungry workers might not have a problem with. Sho couldn't hear them over the activity of mealtime madness. There was something beautiful he could sort out of the chopping blades and simmering flames, an orchestra only ears like his could fully enjoy.
It was everything he'd heard at home a thousand times over.
Things could only slow down from here. The noise would die down and the energy in Sho's fluttering ears would go with it. The lack of work to do would always be quite a loss. Sho wasn't even sure if he always did it for something, but at least he could help clean up and reset this place back to zero. Who knows? Maybe he could just stay here and munch on leftovers that no one would care about. They probably wouldn't kick him out if they recognized him.
Sitting at the edge of their cleaned stand, he bit and nibbled the last of something unrecognizable he ran through one of his claws. Without having spoken a word the whole day he fell asleep without a hitch. The cat in the construction site was satisfied.
With how Sho hopped between the jostling workers and his ears perked into the sky, the elegance of a Bastemon could be considered all but destroyed. Behind the lavender veil, he crumpled his mouth with blushing cheeks. He held back his bashfulness as much as he could, just trying to get somewhere his leaping leopard legs weren't at all out of place. When he finally got to a break in the working crowds, he could lightly twirl, even just to calm himself. Sho could breathe. He could have confidence in a single thing.
He could bring pride to the image of cats in a construction site.
Alas, to do so he'd still need another crowd. This time along the flattened way, hanging on the trail of a scent. Even behind his veil, Sho could smell the edible heaven hanging in the air. He began to bumble towards it with his nose, arriving at something only an infant would call a line. There was something to how the smell met his nose, a quite goofy incredulity. There was no way it could smell like human food. He was no stranger to his mind playing tricks on him.
The boy masquerading as a feline woman was no stranger to the mind playing tricks.
Sho still felt certain in his ability to contribute. Not certain enough to move into the kitchen without even stammering out a request, but the work funnel would wait for no one. This little station became something of a conveyor belt of manufactured nutrition, and Sho's claws were used for anything but passing ingredients around. Things needed to be cut, diced, shredded and peeled, and a Bastemon's claws were exceptionally suited for all of them. Every strange looking plant or somehow grown meat was turned into a scratching post for him.
A Bastemon's mind wouldn't accept sloppiness, and neither would Sho's. His wild slashes slowly approached something uniform and routine, a controlled burst of energy that didn't seem to burn out. It produced cubes and crescents and whatever other shapes these hungry workers might not have a problem with. Sho couldn't hear them over the activity of mealtime madness. There was something beautiful he could sort out of the chopping blades and simmering flames, an orchestra only ears like his could fully enjoy.
It was everything he'd heard at home a thousand times over.
Things could only slow down from here. The noise would die down and the energy in Sho's fluttering ears would go with it. The lack of work to do would always be quite a loss. Sho wasn't even sure if he always did it for something, but at least he could help clean up and reset this place back to zero. Who knows? Maybe he could just stay here and munch on leftovers that no one would care about. They probably wouldn't kick him out if they recognized him.
Sitting at the edge of their cleaned stand, he bit and nibbled the last of something unrecognizable he ran through one of his claws. Without having spoken a word the whole day he fell asleep without a hitch. The cat in the construction site was satisfied.
