Constance: Making Femurspine

[00:40] Cast upon like a dulcimer's strum would the set piece of a primed and prepared space gleam past all the rest. Across the smallest space dubbed as the group's own little 'base' clings a smaller nook, bore with the requisite tools and materials 'collected' by their oh-so gracious delusional doubles.

Present lies the meandered items, long collected from their olden excursions for purchasing during the initial brunt of their first costume's make. What remained now sat upon the tabletop, gouged of their prime uses yet kept out of the frugal nature of the hands that sought to use them.

"Hm. This is a little different from when I made my own staff, aha," she opens. "But I think it's almost kinda the same, so I should know how to do this; with a bit of help, aha."

In this instance does the base confine itself to its creation. Melded together by craft wood and copper craft wires, the initial shape of the soon-to-be staff is slowly set on its course.

Whilst she occupies herself now, there is a humble glance about to Nicholas. "Ah, can you take the bones we got and wash them in the water basin for me? I kinda don't want to work with the muddy dirty stuff we found them in, aha." Delegation, as simple as so.
(Constance)
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[00:57] Having returned to their headquarters, the duo move over towards the tabletop in which several items collected during their trip abroad are laid.

Receiving the statement of her needing a bit of help in the artifact of power for their masked alter-ego, Nicholas provides a singular nod as a hand moves upwards to push at the bridge of his glasses, driving it upwards along his nose.

"Sure, I can do that." He says, having no problem getting a little dirty since he was washing it off anyway. That's how he saw it at least.

The angular piece of bone is taken first, placed into the water and it is rapidly scrubbed and lightly grazed with the stiff bristles of a brush, sending the dirt and grime of layered weeks, months or years falling from.

It doesn't take long before the first piece is thoroughly cleaned and set aside to dry for Constance's purposes with it. "That's one!"
(Nicholas)
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[01:09] Whilst the decomposition of marrow found itself cleansed of its muck and grime, the throne in-which it would have sat softly begins its formation of creation. The winding smoothness of its make gleams despite the simplistic and unassuming materials brought for its formation.

In time, the initial length of the scepter itself shimmies into view. The sturdy composition of the base made manifest, kept decorated by the accessories marred upon its visage by the hands of Constance.

Careful does the motions of her hands motion mold the very aspect of silhouette. The slender figure that rises upon the apex, missing only the bones that had been posed to be upon it for the time being.

"You know, I never would have thought it'd be making something with a goat's head, aha." A light-hearted comment made as the first piece is taken from its damp seat. "But here we are, I guess."

With her own mold lies the slow and methodical building of a paper mache cast, primed to keep the piece set, the ideal placement for where the skull shall rest. "Why did you pick to make this character again? I forget if you got inspired from a book or if it's just something you wanted to do."
(Constance)
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[01:44] Next was the skull, it being much larger and more complicated to clean relative to the simple angular wishbone that had been selected to serve as the guard piece for the skull centerpiece.

It was a simple visage, having taking a closer look upon it. The snout of it being elongated and on the thinner side, the horns were well curved and as the bristles were dragged across the hardened keratin, he could see that they were quite well kept. At least, there was minimal chipping.

"Hm?" Nicholas looks up form the skull towards Constance as he heard a question posed towards him in the midst of his cleaning. "Oh, uhm. Why? You mean why I wanted to play Cage?"

He asks, though he doesn't seem intent on waiting for confirmation as the boy answers the question on the premise that this is what his compatriot of the dice was asking after.

"Well, I just think its a cool design, you know? The idea of a skeleton, freed of magical control and given their own will. Instead of embracing their new existence though, they wish to return to that which they once were." Nicholas says, having been hard at work scrubbing the last bits of grime from the insides of the bovine skull.

"He doesn't remember his life before he became a skeleton, but he just knows that he has to get back to the life he lost. So, flesh and blood is what he'll reclaim for himself, to bring him that little bit closer to what he feels he should be." He explains, holding the skull up in the light afterwards, turning it this way, then that as he inspects it.

Then holds it out towards Constance. "Skull's clean as its going to be!"
(Nicholas)
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[01:51] "Huh..."

A glimpse behind the mask. For what is truly meant for those that live the secondary life, the nuance brought forth to their slow machinations had one bore the curiosity of the black-haired lass.

In silence, listening intently to words parted and a story woven, would the neck of the scepter gleam to its finalizing form. Held aloft by copper wire and padded down by paper mache, the crest which were to hold the crowning skull had set.

All whilst the anecdote and explanation provided by Nicholas lands its mark. "So it's really just something neat you wanted to do. Something you wanna see what happens, huh?"

Simplistic curiosity. Much like a writer yearns to speak the tales of their characters, this in-turn functions similarly to so.

"Well, I'm curious about it now too, aha." A foil to her own musings. A creative output generated for the hand that starves for tabletop entertainment. Sometimes, it were as simple as that.

Yet, soon enough, the skull itself holds upon the placement upon the drying matt. Its ivory feature parried with the protruding ram-like horns had made for an occultic visage. A perfected point for that of the character of Cage.

Slowly, much like the previous bone, there builds the compacted points of the base of the skull. One-by-one they are attached upon the tips of the holder, where craft glue and paper mache slowly stamp it in-place as the finalizing touches begin.

"Alright, now's the fun part. If you wanna help, it'll make this faster!" As the scepter dries, brushes gleam from a small compartment as a bucket of paint is hoisted upon the surface of the worktable. "All that's left is to paint it a color, aha. I was thinking purple, maybe it'll help fit with the costume!"
(Constance)
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[02:13] A few nods in response are given. Nicholas thoroughly enjoys the concept he's created for this, even if the vast majority of it is improvised on the spot. Aren't a lot of great actors capable of extraordinary improv moments though?

Surely Nicholas was well on his way to becoming one of the greats. Which meant he'll soon have an amazing six pack, since all great actors have them. . Right?

"Right? I want to see where it all goes!" He exclaims, the raw excitement of a kid in a candy shop breaking through as childish passions shine.

Dark hues watch as Constance attaches everything into place, and on the subject of helping paint it? "I've never painted before, but, sounds cool.. You can fix it if I mess it up right?" He asks seconds afterwards as he reaches over to pick up a brush to begin the task of colorizing the ivory crown of his alter-ego's staff.

"Yeah, purple will be cool."
(Nicholas)
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[02:19] "Uuuuuuh…" Could she paint? Can she carry where her companion believes they may find error in? "Maybe... aha... yeah."

A shaky answer. But nevertheless...

Slowly does strokes of purples begin to careen across the scepter's girth. The prospective scheme of the hues upon the skeletal character's main mantra shimmers with each addition of coating.

In time, the mish-mashed confabulation of various knickknacks of cheap wares and animal bones would eventually find something... presentable.

"It's starting to look decent, aha," she comments, bathing upon the status of the piece as the finalizing sheen of paint ebbs across the surface.

Moments later, it lives.

Femurspine, the Throne of Bones.

"Aha... this turned out better than what I was expecting," she chimes, exhaling a soft breath as her paint-stained features lean back upon a resting posture. "It actually looks good, aha."
(Constance)