Olalla G. Semenov
Male— Ardent— The Pitt— Bio.— Plot
The sun had yet to crawl over the treetops of the jungle, yet to emerge through the canopy and onto the jungle floor below and for this Olalla was grateful. It wouldn't be as hot as it would mid-day, and therefore he was less likely to overheat even with his thin fur.
But, there were more important matters to attend to for the time being. What were those things, Olalla had no idea but he felt unproductive and wanted to change that. Leftover beams and scaffolding from the Welcome Centre were enough to at least get something started. So he made his way across the plaza to gather the materials. Once collected he made his way back to the open area that fronted the Plaza, closest to the cool shade of the jungle.
Olalla grumbled to himself as he brushed away various jungle debris from his work zone, soon beginning to dig the holes that the beams would stand in, wheezing slightly. One by one he slammed the wooden beams into their places, partially filling the holes with river stones and filling the rest with mud and sand. He sat and stared at the beams, huffing now. Olalla was still very much sick and sore, but as the saying goes; idle hands are the devil's workshop. Perhaps after this he'd see Leon and Oliver, after months of putting it off.
After a few more hours of setting beams and moving scaffolding, Olalla had the right wall up and a window in place. It was a start, but he wasn't anywhere near the finish.
But, there were more important matters to attend to for the time being. What were those things, Olalla had no idea but he felt unproductive and wanted to change that. Leftover beams and scaffolding from the Welcome Centre were enough to at least get something started. So he made his way across the plaza to gather the materials. Once collected he made his way back to the open area that fronted the Plaza, closest to the cool shade of the jungle.
Olalla grumbled to himself as he brushed away various jungle debris from his work zone, soon beginning to dig the holes that the beams would stand in, wheezing slightly. One by one he slammed the wooden beams into their places, partially filling the holes with river stones and filling the rest with mud and sand. He sat and stared at the beams, huffing now. Olalla was still very much sick and sore, but as the saying goes; idle hands are the devil's workshop. Perhaps after this he'd see Leon and Oliver, after months of putting it off.
After a few more hours of setting beams and moving scaffolding, Olalla had the right wall up and a window in place. It was a start, but he wasn't anywhere near the finish.