#baronyofthesilverwolf

"Huh? Sure."

"I Mean, the creator was another natifve.. Oneida tribe maybe"

Thistle can tell... it's kinda pretty, if you like beads.

Art leans in to look. "You'd have to have a lot of patience or very steady hands to string all those tiny little bits."

"I think this is all chimerical, because Ted didn't seem to see it at all. It's not nearly as glowy as it was, but... the fire's here are kinda tied to the magic, maybe?"

"Oh, yeah. It's pretty." Of the necklace.

Art looks at what Thistle is holding. "So what's up with the... is that an egg? A bit... hard worn, though. It reminds me of those dinosaur fossil pictures in Gawain's books." Indeed, it looks like it might crumble at any moment.

"An egg? I guess it's shaped a bit like one. It's greenware. Old greenware. But I think it's stable enough to fire so it doesn't' get destroyed..."

"I haven't tried firing anything purely chimerical yet."

He blinks, and gets a distant look in his eyes. "If that Chimera was... then this might be... " Art's eyes open wide. "Yes! Put it into the kiln!"

"Okay. We'll we're here."

"Yeah, let's see what happens!"

The three of them crowd into Thistle's workshop. It's not exactly small, but any room can feel small with a Troll looming in it.

Gwen tries not to feel selfconcious about that. She really can't turn off LOOMING

Thistle is probably aware she has an audience. Probably.

Chime? Citron flits over, and fusses around Thistle's hair for a bit.

But the nocker is right on setting up the kiln - one handed, with the other gently cradling the, well, it is kind of egg-shaped, yes.

"Hey Citron. Careful you don't singe your booty."

Chime! !! The little yellow never has fashioned a sort of skirt out of a few of the golden Jub-Jub feathers.

"Chime?" "Chime!" Now Turq and 'Treuse, often seen flying together, zip in check out the party. The air is quickly crowded.

"Okay. THey missed you"

"They don't like the school."

CHIME! Loud agreement

Art rubs an ear.

"HEY, Madder! Don't you dare!"

She carefully yanks on her salamander gloves (using her teeth so she doesn't pose extra risk to the greenware in the opposite hand)

The never looks up guiltily from where he was sticking his head into the flue.

"You'll burn off your eyebrows. Idjit."

Art digs into his pocket, and pulls out a red bag with rainbow writing. He gives it a rustling shake, and QUICKLY has attention. "Who wants a skittle? Ah ah, the deal is you have to take them out to the garden."

The Nevers quickly confer in a chorus of bells, then line up to each take a candy piece, and zip out to the Garden. Citron remains, stubbornly, though the candy is tempting. She lights onto the worktop, away from the Kiln, to watch.

An amused snort.

"Hope you don't mind me bribing them. Or that they'll be zipping on a sugar high later. It works on Gawain." Art says with a shameless grin.

Meanwhile, The greenware is cradled carefully in her salamander glove, and soon the kiln is crackling.

"I can handle them on a sugar high. That's what headphones are for."

She squints, and gentle places the pottery into the middle of the fire. The gloves protect her hands, removing the need to use tongs which might crumble the delicate clay.

The unglazed, raw oblong is placed into the heat of the kiln, gently enough so that only a few small flakes crumble off.

Art leans over her shoulder and peers in, and whispers.... "Now what?"

The flames lick merrily, and... nothing else seems to happen.

"Well, firing takes time. You watch, it'll change color."

Thistle can tell that a piece of greenware of this size might take a while to fire - not too long, but probably no less than a half hour before she'd check it. Then again, if it's hollow, that might make a difference. It was hard to tell from the weight, and not knowing how dry it might have been.

Gladiola watches curiously.

"My big worry is being gentle enough - it could pop."

"Do we need to close the door? Miss Marigold scolds me when I open the oven to check."

"Yeah." Sigh. She wants to watch!

He pats her on the back. "Let it cook! Maybe it will be a precious ore inside a rock geode."

A smile

"That'd be cool!"

It is summer, and quickly getting very warm inside the workshop. Thistle is used to it, but Gwen finds her stone skin sticky with perspiration.

"Worse than a sweat lodge"

"Better than?" Art suggests.

"Better than" she concedes