Woven Vexations

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Nymeria Fyrechild
Posts: 23
Joined: Mon Jun 03, 2019 3:30 pm
Topics: 6
Race: Human
Location: Vienda, Anaxas
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Writer: Vaelarys
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Sat Jun 08, 2019 7:22 pm

Painted Ladies - Vienda
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10/03/2719 ~ Late afternoon
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Searching for just the right, cheap, fabric, had been a merciless time-eater this day. She felt like she had trotted the entirety of The Dives muddier than it already were, and at last she had found herself face to face with the colourful world of The Painted Ladies. Considering that she was looking for cheap but still resilient fabric, she had thought it easier to find in the dirtier nooks of Vienda, where the means of the seller getting it wouldn’t be questioned. And yet, here she stood, at her last resort, about to venture down the street of colourful bricks. For a moment she pondered trying out the vendors of Kingsway market, but shook the thought, knowing that might be riskier that trying to haggle down the price with a real shopkeeper. At least it haven’t rained…Yet.

As she slowly started walking, searching for any sign of a shop that could sell her what she needed, she gave herself a mental pat on the back for grabbing her cloak last second, before leaving this morning. Though it didn’t rain, the black dress wouldn’t have been enough for the cold winds that every now and then would grab a hold on her hair. She had let it hang loose except for two small braids, pulled back into a small bun on the back of her head. It always felt a little warmer on a cold day, letting the long rusty locks hang loose to cover the back of her ears and as an extra layer on top of the high neck of the dress.

Catching her own reflection coloured by various extravagant fabrics hidden behind windows, as she passed the first shop brought her back to reality. For a second the sight of only colourful, light materials, catered towards the galdori, made her consider just not getting fabric for a second cloak. Made her consider dealing with the smell of wet spine wolf and accept her fate ruining her expensive cloak. Her memoir of a life not too good, but heaven considering what the life of poverty had brought upon her. No, she hissed internally at herself, You have saved on everything you could to get this poxy fabric, and now you’re going to get it. Whatever it takes.

She came to a halt as her reflection stared back at her, this time coloured by an array of different materials and even some earthly tones. Woven delights. Her gaze wandered from the hand-painted sign, to the stained cherrywood. It did seem expensive. But maybe, just maybe, she would be lucky this time. She didn’t pray anymore, but if she had been, now would have been the time. She approached the door with caution, as if the shopkeeper would come jumping out any time and ripping the little coin she had from her pouch. She pushed open the door, and a small bell made sure to tell on her. So much for wanting to browse with out eyes on her back.


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Ava Weaver
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Sun Jun 09, 2019 2:09 am

Late Afternoon, 10 Loshis, 2719
Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
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With Loshis upon them, the air had already started to cool. The bright blue skies and distant green fields of spring were gone, replaced with gray clouds that sank the entire city into a dreary morass, mud thickening the streets of the Dives even before the first rains actually fell. Ava didn’t mind; there was something blissfully pleasant about rain. She loved to sit at the window, steam curling from the top of a tea-filled mug, and contemplate the rain falling outside. These days, of course, the view was different, the mugs were chipped, the tea less expensive, and every second was so much more precious than they had been. In truth, Ava didn’t really have time for such reflection, and she hoped this Loshis would be as busy as the last few months had been – but, perhaps, she would be able to steal a few moments, good lady willing.

From a sales perspective, though, Loshis brought its own challenges. One might have thought that the rains would mean fewer customers, but Ava hadn’t always found it to be so. The open-air markets suffered, but she had a lovely indoor shop, a safe place to wait out a sudden cloudburst. She would have fewer customers from outside the Dives, though, and that meant changing what she put out on offer, a task that would wait until the rains had actually started. The worst of it was the mud; Ava knew she would need to clean the floor of her shop two, three times a day – perhaps more. It wasn’t a chore she was looking forward to but keeping the shop clean was worth it. Perhaps, this year, she would be able to afford someone to clean the floors for her.

Ava was standing at the counter at the back of the room, studying her ledger and contemplating that question very carefully. Two years, and nearly every cent she had earned had gone back into the business, establishing trade contacts, building up inventory, making what had once been a rundown house a pleasant and welcome space. Could she squeeze a few more coins for cleaning? It would certainly be pleasant not to have to do it herself, although Ava never balked at any chore – no matter how dirty – if it was necessary.

She was double-checking the profit margins on her latest batch of fabrics when the door to the shop opened, the bell tinkling gently to let her know that she had a (potential) customer. Ava looked up, smiling gently, at the entrance to the shop, one hand resting gently on the columns of neatly printed numbers, black-lacquered nails a pleasant contrast against olive skin and off-white parchment.

From the outside, the window display was the most visible, but past it – even from the street – one could see that shelves lined three walls of the shop were stuffed full of colorful rolls of fabric, neatly organized in a pleasing rippling cascade of colors and patterns. Inside, the effect was nearly overwhelming, or at least might well be. There was little else in the shop – just the shelves lining the three walls, fabrics wrapped around rolls stacked vertically across them, and the neat counter at the back, with Ava standing behind it. The light streamed in through the big glass window, hazy and soft thanks to the clouds above.

As she often did, Ava wore some of her own fabrics. Today, she wore a dress with flowing almost-sheer sleeves, made from pale tan fabric, cuffed to cling at her wrists, small turquoise ribbons forming neat bows on the outer edges of her hands. The sheer tan fabric stopped at her shoulders; the dress from there down was made with what looked like cotton in nearly the same color. The dress was cut as if to be revealing, with a shallow but evocative v extending down her torso, but whatever might have been displayed was well covered by a second layer of tan cloth which stretched up to just below her neck, leaving just the barest edges of her collarbones visible. The dress curved in sharply at her waist, secured with another stretch of turquoise ribbon, then flared out, although the shape of the skirt below it wasn’t easily visible behind the counter.

“Good afternoon,” Ava said, voice soft and welcoming; the smile on pink-painted lips seemed to have seeped into her voice. “Might I help you to find something?”

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Nymeria Fyrechild
Posts: 23
Joined: Mon Jun 03, 2019 3:30 pm
Topics: 6
Race: Human
Location: Vienda, Anaxas
Character Sheet: Character sheet
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Vaelarys
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Sun Jun 09, 2019 12:20 pm

Painted Ladies - Vienda
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10/03/2719 ~ Late afternoon
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She stepped inside, and goose bumps covered her body with the sudden meet of a new temperature. It was nice and cosy in there, very unlike her own home. It was a shop, so of course it would have to be comfortable to lure in customers and coaxing them into staying. Behind the desk stood a woman, wearing a dress in a pale tan colour, with details of turquoise. She looked mature, though she was most likely only a few years Nymeria’s superior. A crown of curly dark hair fell around her face, to her shoulders and framed her face wearing a kind smile. ”Good afternoon” the shopkeeper welcomed Nymeria, before continuing the usual shopkeeper lines.

Her chin lifted ever so slightly in habit, made her peer down at the lady in an unknowingly arrogant manner, while ascertaining what kind of seller the lady would turn out to be. The slight curl of the edges of her mouth, returning the friendly gesture of a smile, didn’t quite reach her eyes. ”Good afternoon,” she returned the greeting politely, somewhat toning down her arrogant aura. ”If you could guide me towards some fabrics, more dive-cloak friendly, rather than,” she gestured towards the colourful, but not so sturdy, fabrics with a light nod ”That would be nice, thank you”.

The woman seemed nice enough, and she were human, so there was no need for Nymeria to behave hostile. Besides, she really did need some fabric, and as long as it weren’t galdori, she could probably have dealt with any race right now. Maybe she could even have worn a real fake smile, for the show. Instead she wore the closest to a genuine smile she could, which, to be honest, weren’t very close. She hadn’t properly smiled for a long time, for there hadn’t been anyone or anything to smile for. But again, there were no need to be rude, especially not towards someone who were, if not trying to help, at least not the man behind her foul mood.

It were not that she was sad, that she didn’t smile. Not even the anger inside her burning her lungs and insides with a malicious and hungry fire, were the only thing at fault for her lack of smiling. She just didn’t get to interact that much with other people, aside from work, and shopping groceries, or the occasional thing she desperately needed- Like this fabric. And those interactions didn’t lead to close relations. She didn’t have the time to play around, making friends.

”It needs to be sturdy, and obviously not too expensive” she gestured to the window of the shop, as a reminder that they did find themselves to be in The Dives. ”Also I would prefer it not to be too colourful,” her nose scrunched up in a disdaining manner when mentioning colours ”If you hadn’t guessed, I’m not a lugger golly”. The last part was practically dripping contempt, and the curl of her mouth was long gone, replaced by a straight line, now turning into a sneer. Not towards the shopkeeper, no, at the sole mention of the galdori, not even bothering to hide the pure hatred she were harbouring towards the magic bearing race.



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Ava Weaver
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Sun Jun 09, 2019 3:30 pm

Late Afternoon, 10 Loshis, 2719
Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
Ava’s smile never faltered at the arrogant lift of her new customer’s chin or the smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The door slid quietly shut behind her, with the quiet click of a well-set frame.

“It would be my pleasure,” Ava said, tone as polite and friendly before. She carefully closed the ledger, storing the heavy bound book in one of the drawers at the back of the counter, locking it inside and tucking the key away into a small, secret pocket. She stepped carefully out from behind the desk. The tan fabric of the top of the dress fell from her waist to a sharp point and the front and back, stopping somewhere below her knees; beneath it was an underskirt in a darker brown, fuller, which mirrored a softer version of the same shape, falling to the ground. The ensemble revealed simple brown slippers on her feet, and just the barest hint of trim ankles visible between the gently upward sloping hem and the edge of the slippers.

Ava was just at the front of the counter when the customer continued, explaining she wanted not just something suitable a cloak, but something sturdy, not too colorful. Ava froze at the word lugger, just a brief flicker of stillness, as the young woman’s obvious anger swept through the room like a storm. They had only barely spoken, but the curse, tone and sneer were obvious enough; there was no mistaking them for anything other than rage, bald and undisguised.

In truth, it sent a faint frisson of fear down Ava’s spine. Such anger was dangerous, perhaps very dangerous. This young woman knew nothing about Ava other than that she was also human (at least, very likely); for all she knew, Ava might be one of those humans happy with the galdori and the way things had always been, one of those more scared of what change might bring than anything else.

“I understand,” Ava said, gently, sweeping past the moment as if it hadn’t happened, other than a delicate emphasis on the second word. “You’d like something sensible and all-purpose, I imagine.” Her smile had never faltered, and still didn’t now. “Have you thought about whether you’d like something lighter or heavier?” Decisively, she crossed to one side of the room, towards the back. The shelves there were all neatly organized earth tones, browns and dark greens, along with some grays.

“It’s best to feel the fabric yourself,” Ava told the young woman, still smiling. “I would suggest you look either at linens,” she stroked the middle reaches of the shelves with gentle fingers, “or wools,” Ava knelt, the movement easy in the dress, to indicate the fabrics on the lower shelves, and rose again just as effortlessly. “The linen won’t keep you dry in the rain, but it will be a bit cooler in the months to come. Wool will keep the rain off you, but it may be a bit – heavy for the thunderstorms and the heat that’s to come.”

“See what you like,” Ava took an easy step back, then another, making plenty of space for the young woman to look at the shelves. “You are welcome to take down anything which you’d like to look at more closely. There are cottons as well,” she made a graceful gesture towards the top reaches of the shelf, “and they are a bit cheaper, but perhaps too likely to get caught on something inconvenient.”

“Take your time,” Ava encouraged gently. “Let me know if you have any questions, or if you’d like my help with anything.”

The fabrics were organized as Ava had indicated, with thick and sturdy wools on the bottom, strong and durable linen in the middle, and lighter soft cotton at the top. There was some variation in the colors, but all were the sort of basic earth tones often favored by humans. Ava wouldn’t hover, sweeping gently across the shop as if some urgent errand on the other side called her attention, only to gently nudge a roll of fabric back into place, making a minute adjustment to it that hardly seemed like it had actually been necessary. She glanced back over her shoulder at the young woman, then went back to her small adjustments, evidently fully occupied.

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Nymeria Fyrechild
Posts: 23
Joined: Mon Jun 03, 2019 3:30 pm
Topics: 6
Race: Human
Location: Vienda, Anaxas
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Mon Jun 10, 2019 8:03 am

Painted Ladies - Vienda
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10/03/2719 ~ Late afternoon
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The anger that been filling the room moments before, evaporated just as quickly as if had it merely been a ghost passing through the room. Her words had brought a momentary stillness to the shopkeeper, so short that she wasn’t even sure that she had seen correctly. But as easily as sweeping dirt under a carpet, the shopkeeper had simply acted as if nothing had been said except for her preferences of fabric.

She easily followed the woman in elegant strides, her back straight, her eyes following her every movement. As she talked and explained the pros and cons of every fabric, Nymeria listened intensely, her face bare of emotion. She studied the array of earthy tones she had been guided to, and as the woman recommended touching the fabrics herself, she absentmindedly reached out and let her fingers run over dark green wool. Her eyes didn’t follow the woman anymore, and one might think that she stopped listening. But she heard every word, and she tossed around the information in her brain, weighing out the benefits and disadvantages.

As she turned around to leave, Nymeria laid her eyes on her one last time with a slight curl of her mouth. ”Thank you” she said, not sure that the woman had heard her in her hurry to leave her to. She turned to the task at hand and reached for another fabric, this time grey linen. She knew that the cloak was meant to become one protecting her for the oncoming weather, so deciding between wool that would actually protect her from the rain, and linen that wouldn’t be unbearable in the warmer weather to come, was hard.

While looking, and carefully considering each fabric, she unknowingly grabbed the fabric of her cloak, getting the feel of it. She knew she’d never be able to afford fabric like this, in the state she was in, but she still had to consider it in terms of what the other cloak should be made from. While this cloak was warm and thick enough to protect her against most kinds of weather, it had no hood. The fur over her shoulders kept her warm, but when wet it smelled like a wet dog. And if she didn’t carefully dry it and care for it when wet, it would become matted. No, she needed a lighter cloak, that would still keep her warm and dry, but one she could also wear in the months to come. And one that could save a good cloak to be totally ruined before the year had run out.

Her fingers danced over the different kinds and colors of the fabrics in a concentrated manner, her eyebrows slowly getting knitted more tightly together in a thoughtful manner. There were also the less important, but still to be taking into consideration, matter of color. She liked dark greens and greys, but she preferred black. Brown would make her blend more easily into the background with other civvies, but it was a colour she bound together with her work, almost no matter the nuance of it. A black wool caught her attention, and she moved sideways before she kneeled down. The movement done in uttermost grace brought her down to the floor where a slightly thinner, black, wool, were hidden underneath bigger rolls of fabric. She grabbed around it, the common scratchiness of wool, meeting her fingertips. A fabric slightly thinner than the one she was wearing but made out of wool. It would keep her warm, but not too warm. It would keep her dry longer than the cotton and linen, and though the smell of wet dog wasn’t her favorite, she could do with it.

Rising to her feet with ease in a connected and elegant movement, she looked towards the shopkeeper, opening her mouth to announce her choice. ”I found just one that I wanted” wearing a smile for politeness and pleasantry, she pointed down towards the floor where it laid, almost hidden. ”I will probably do more bad than good if I pull it out of there myself, so If you will be so kind”.


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Ava Weaver
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Mon Jun 10, 2019 9:45 am

Late Afternoon, 10 Loshis, 2719
Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
Ava’s own fingers skated lightly over the fabrics on the opposite wall, conducting her own careful examination. She kept as much of her attention off the hard-faced young woman staring at the wall of earth tones as she could. The young woman seemed to have taken her advice, from what Ava could tell from her occasional glances; she was touching and studying different fabrics with a heightened intensity, frowning at browns and grays and blacks and greens as if the decision between wool and linen was one between life and death.

There was no need to rush her, though, and no need to hover; Ava wasn’t so far away that she couldn’t come back to answer any questions, and she thought, somehow, that this young woman would prefer a bit of space. Ava went back to her careful adjustments; she took one roll out, smoothly, and swapped it for the one next to it, then stepped back to study the effect, wanting the eye to roll smoothly across a shelf of brighter fabrics as they went from pink to orange. The change pleased her, and she smoothed out the newly placed roll with two fingers. The luxury of being able to touch the smooth, expensive fabrics was one Ava worked hard to maintain; dry or rough fingers would spoil some of her fabrics. It meant she had to wear gloves for her chores, and carefully lotion of her hands nightly, but it was well worth it to feel the soft silk without the slightest pull.

The cloak the young woman was wearing now was wool – expensive, very thick wool, as nice as anything Ava stocked, with heavy fur around the shoulders that must be difficult to keep clean. It wasn’t the sort of cloak usually worn by someone who made sure to note that they didn’t want expensive fabric; but, then, perhaps it was exactly the sort of cloak to be worn by someone who was angry at having to make that clarification. Regardless, the young woman’s reasons were her own; Ava might wonder, but she didn’t need to know just to sell her some new fabric, and she wouldn’t ask, no more than she would ask what lay behind the hard, taut planes of the young woman’s face, or the anger burning behind lovely eyes.

“That’s thoughtful of you,” Ava turned from the fabrics she’d been looking at, crossing the store back to the young woman with neat, small steps. If she took insult from the ‘just one’ comment, absolutely no flicker of it crossed her face. “I’d be happy to get it.” She knelt, and practiced hands eased the roll of thinner black wool from the shelf without disturbing any of the others around it, until Ava held it gently in her arms. She rose and carried the wool to the counter at the front of the shop, laying it down and unwinding part of one wrap from the roll, smoothing it along the counter for the young woman to examine if she wished.

“It’s a lovely wool,” Ava said, smiling, the tips of her fingers still resting on the fabric. “A bit thinner than some of the others – a nice compromise for something you’ll wear year round. Do you know how much you would need?” Practiced eyes flickered over the young woman’s current cloak, but Ava refrained from making a suggestion.

There was one other thing to convey. Ava told the young woman the price per square foot with the same polite smile she’d worn throughout the transaction, her tone firm and unyielding, and left the information there. The wool was thinner than some of the others, but still dense and well-woven, and well worth the price. Ava would not, of course, stock anything that was poorly made, but there were trade-offs to be made in the thickness of the fabric, the denseness of it, the coarseness of the fibers, the richness of the color. The young woman had chosen towards the lower end of what the shop had, but not at the very bottom.

It was up to the young woman and her coin purse, then. Ava didn’t jump in with offers to show her cheaper or more expensive fabrics or try to badger her into buying; she just waited, smiling and polite.
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Nymeria Fyrechild
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Joined: Mon Jun 03, 2019 3:30 pm
Topics: 6
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Location: Vienda, Anaxas
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Mon Jun 10, 2019 12:27 pm

Painted Ladies - Vienda
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10/03/2719 ~ Late afternoon
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As the woman almost danced over the floor, towards her, Nymeria shortly wondered if the woman had had another life before she had settled in the small shop. Carefully gazing at the woman, always spitting pleasantries, she pondered if the mask that the woman wore ever tired her out. If she ever got tired of pretending to not notice the customers’ rude moments. If she’d let any potential customer slather her with rude comments. Maybe she just liked to pretend that she was kind to anyone, that she didn’t have a shed of negative feelings running through her veins. Nymeria didn’t believe it for one second.

She followed the shopkeeper to the counter and watched her practiced hands roll out the fabric before her. ”It’s a lovely wool” the woman chirped, and for an instance, Nymeria thought to herself that the woman bore a resemblance to a tiny bird. Always gliding along the floors in easy movements, always in flowy dresses. Maybe, sometimes, she would even hum a little song, and dance along the sun rays hitting the floorboards of the store. Safe in her little birdhouse, from all the foxes and wolves prowling the streets.

Her hands had smoothed out the fabric for Nymeria to examine, and her eyes had followed her clean and soft hands as she did. There were no signs of the humanity that most bore in their hands, down in the dives. They looked like Nymeria hands had, a time long ago. Now, as she let her fingers run over the fabric, the once long and slender fingers had gotten a bonier look to them. They weren’t soft anymore but had instead marks of hard labor sprayed out on her palms. Marks of the horrid state of the world that they were living in. She wondered how her brother’s hands would have looked, brushing away the soft strands of red around her face, before he would have kissed her forehead.

She was brought back to reality, just in time to properly hear the bird-like woman’s questions and the price. It was fairly good wool, so she didn’t bat an eye at the price of the fabric. She had saved up, eating only stale bread and dried meat for a while now, so she had the money. She considered letting the woman suggest the right amount of fabric for a proper cloak. She had never sewn one herself, and the woman obviously had the upper hand when it came to this. Though Nymeria had plenty of practice sewing, she knew that the woman would have more. ”I need enough for a new cloak with a hood to protect me from the rain,” she looked up at the woman, and let their eyes meet as she spoke, ” I’ve never sewn one before, so you might have a better idea than I”.

As she reached for her coin purse, the metal cone hanging by the chain around her neck, dangled lightly at her side. The cloak, now out of the way, revealed the rows of black feathers on the front panel of her dress, along with the leather straps barely visible over her chest as well as the necklace of chain, ring, and cone. She would often grab a hold of the cone when she felt unsafe and would only be seen without the necklace when she worked. Though it hadn’t been designed to be a weapon, Nymeria didn’t doubt that an eyeball would do poorly against such a thing.

She let the cloak fall back into place covering the dress once again and looked up at the woman. The purse wouldn’t be heavy for much longer now, but at least she would have the fabric that she needed. And she wouldn’t have to save every fort she earned.




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Ava Weaver
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Mon Jun 10, 2019 11:03 pm

Late Afternoon, 10 Loshis, 2719
Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
Ava smiled. “I would suggest…” she examined the young woman carefully. She was perhaps an inch less in height than Ava herself, and the cloak she wore now went nearly to the ground. If she wanted a cloak to keep the rain off, not something stylish, that meant a good deal of fabric; perhaps six inches beyond the length from her collarbones to the ground, plus a few extra feet of fabric for the hood itself.

“Eight or nine feet of fabric should do well enough,” Ava said after a moment of calculation. “You’ll want a bit less than six for the cloak itself, and another three to shape the hood,” she smiled. “That is, if you want a hood that’ll keep the rain off properly.” She opened another drawer from beneath the counter, emerging with a long measuring tape which she laid against the edge of the counter, carefully arranging it. With easy, graceful motions, she unwound more of the wool fabric, smoothing it evenly along the counter with her hand so that there would be no ripples in the fabric, nothing to disturb the cut.

“Your dress is lovely,” Ava said, gently; her attention was clearly on arranging the fabric, but she spared time for the compliment anyway, smiling at the young woman. It was an impressive thing, with feathers layered into the fabric, and leather straps draped across it, an unexpectedly unique design. It said, quite as powerfully as the young woman’s hot anger did, that this was someone who didn’t care what others thought, who made her own way and her own rules – or, at least, who very much wanted to.

Once the wool was properly arranged, Ava took out a pair of heavy scissors, laying the sharp edge against the fabric in preparation.

The doorbell rang again, a bright tinkling noise that cut through the quiet air of the shop.

Ava looked up, pulling the scissors back and setting them down on the counter instead.

There was no mistaking the man who entered; he was a galdor, perhaps an inch taller than Ava, with a thick head of bright red hair, yellow eyes, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut. A goatee that looked like it might have been trimmed and shaped minutes earlier elongated his chin, highlighting the contours of his face. Like his goatee, the rest of his outfit was impeccable, with a high-necked amethyst coat that trailed down to his knees and a flawlessly knotted silk tie. He tracked mud into the shop as he entered, with a casual lack of awareness of the scuffed footprints he was leaving behind him.

The galdor was not smiling. The very air in the shop seemed to change; there was a thick, charged sense of tension. He took a few steps into the store, turning with hands clasped behind his back to examine a shelf of brightly colored silks.

Ava looked as outwardly unconcerned by it as she had any small discourtesies from the young woman buying the black wool, although she was very, very still, her eyes on the galdor in front of them. Something changed in her posture, an inward shifting – a pulling back that almost wasn’t physical, as if she were holding herself smaller.

“Good afternoon, sir,” When Ava spoke, her tone was polite, the smiling overtones from before muted but still present. “Welcome to Woven Delights. Might I be of any assistance to you?”

The galdor looked at the two of them, actually looked, for the first time since entering the shop. He frowned, lips pursing faintly. “I’ll let you know,” he said, coldly, as if the question had been a terrible imposition. Hands still behind his back, he turned back to the shelf before him. He leaned forward to examine one fabric, and made a sort of ‘tsk’ noise, shaking his head slightly before stepping to the side and looking at the next.

"Of course, sir." Ava watched him a moment longer, then turned her attention back to the young woman, still smiling.

“Let’s get this cut for you, shall we?” Her voice was softer. She readjusted the wool, smoothing it back out to find the line she wanted to cut, then picked the scissors back up and set them to the fabric, making a well-gauged cut and beginning to part the wool with careful, neat movements.
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Nymeria Fyrechild
Posts: 23
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Location: Vienda, Anaxas
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Wed Jun 12, 2019 3:49 pm

Painted Ladies - Vienda
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10/03/2719 ~ Late afternoon
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She listened carefully to the woman’s explaining and faintly nodded as she laid out the calculations for her. Smiling every word, every movement done light and graceful. Even as she measured the wool, and unraveled more of it, she had the time to compliment Nymeria. Never out of pleasantries, she thought to herself, and merely nodded as a thank you. The was a likeliness that by lovely the woman meant strange, interesting, out of the ordinary. But it would definitely be out of her character to say such things, so even if she thought Nymeria was wearing the ugliest dress in the world, she would find some antonym of what she really thought.

The fabric laid splayed out before them, ready to be separated and bought. But just as the woman was about to seal the deal, the door let the both of them know that another customer had entered the store. The galdor stepping inside didn’t seem to know that the two of them were there though, not even casting a mere glance in their direction. Maybe he had a bell reminding him to be pretentious every hour of the day.

Nymeria stared at his back in the same way that he gazed on the fabrics as if they were not up to his standards. Don’t stain them with your dirty eyes, suddenly feeling protective of the fabrics that she earlier had scowled at. She turned her eyes to the shop keeper, suddenly smaller than she had been when the two of them had been alone in the store. Like a bird holding its breath in fear that the wolf would find it.

As she spoke Nymeria noticed a slight change from the way that the woman had spoke to her. She turned her head to look at the galdor, pursing his lips in a discontent manner. “I’ll let you know,”. He looked like a dirty hound had licked his face. He looked like a dirty hound would get sick from licking his face.

She turned her head as the woman spoke to her once again, this way in a softer manner. Was she scared? Nymeria observed her movements and tried to read her face. For a single moment, she had thought that the woman too, didn’t like galdori. Now she just looked terrified. Though, Nymeria doubted that the man would realize, before it was too late, if the little bird just went right for him and stabbed him. Those scissors looked sharp.

She looked down at the soft hands before her. So carefully arranging and caring for the fabrics. Wondered how they would look stained with blood. Lifted her gaze to the woman’s face. What would it look like painted with anger? Sorrow? Looked at her own hands. Had her brother’s hands been stained with blood? Would hers one day be?

She shook the train of thoughts, with a confused frown scrunching her eyebrows together. ” Thank you” she said, not softening her voice as the woman had done. She looked at the women, concentrating on the task at hand. Then she glanced sideways at the galdor browsing the store, tsk’ing at different fabrics in the store. ”It’s not like you’re worthy of any of those fabrics” she muttered lowly enough for it to almost be a thought, well knowing that even if the woman heard her she wouldn’t say anything. Her masked fitted too tight.





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Ava Weaver
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Joined: Fri Jun 07, 2019 11:17 am
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Wed Jun 12, 2019 4:50 pm

Late Afternoon, 10 Loshis, 2719
Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
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Ava’s hands moved in practiced, easy motions, graceful, parting the wool with neat rips along the seam, largely using her hands rather than the scissors to keep from accidentally ruining the line. She was just taking hold of the fabric for another gentle rip when the young woman in front of her spoke, a half-muttered grumble, facing Ava but the words clearly meant for the galdor.

Ava looked up at her, smile flickering and fading. She didn’t say anything, eyes darting from the young woman to the galdor, and then back down to the fabric, her hands beginning to move again, motions as smooth as ever. To speak would only call attention to it; her cover, her survival, rested on the shop succeeding, and one didn’t succeed by insulting gollies. There was too much here that Ava wouldn’t want the Seventeen to find. The last thing she needed was a foolish girl unable to control her temper in the midst of her shop.

The galdor had finished a slow walk along the half of the shelves closest to the door, where the more expensive colorful silks and gauzes were stored. He grasped one, tugging it loose from the shelf, and made a face, leaving it half-exposed and slumped against the others. “Vermillion,” he announced, loudly, turning back to the counter.

Ava was about halfway through parting the wool. She smiled an apologetic smile at the young woman, and left the wool behind, stepping out from behind the counter and across the shop.

“Of course, sir,” Ava said, politely, coming to a stop in the middle of the store; she was between the young woman at the counter and the galdor now, hands gently clasped over the front of her dress. “We have several different fabrics in vermillion – a cotton, a silk and a satin. I would be glad to show you any of them, if you would like.”

“The silk,” the galdor said. His eyes flicked over Ava, lingering on the bodice of her dress; he never quite looked at her face. “Filthy shop, isn’t it?” He looked down at the floor, now smeared here and there with the mud that he had tracked in, and grimaced again, wiping his boots against the floor and leaving another smear behind.

“My apologies, sir,” Ava accepted his scorn without a flicker of an eyelash; she seemed not to even notice the unpleasant tone of his voice, her soft smile firmly in place. She stepped closer to the shelf, and carefully eased a bolt of vermillion silk out of the shelves, offering it to the galdor. He took it without ever touching her, and grunted in satisfaction, walking over towards the windows with it.

Ava walked back over towards the counter, still refusing to allow any hint of turmoil or distress on her face, as calm and implacable as if the encounter were going well.

“You call this vermillion silk?” The galdor’s voice crackled through suddenly charged air. "I could find better on Hollow Street. The color is the worst I've seen."

Ava stopped, holding still just before the young woman still waiting for her wool, and slowly turned back to the galdor. “I’m very sorry, sir.” She bowed her head, standing quiet and almost penitent, the picture of apology. “I’m afraid it’s the only vermillion silk we have in stock.”

The galdor was standing at the window. He had unwounded a length of the fabric and was held up to the light, gray beams streaming through it and turning the floor beyond a pale, light red. Tension rippled out from him, as it had when he first entered the shop. He tugged at the silk a little harder, and the red fabric strained out from the bolt and ripped. Ava jerked as if struck, a small, tightly contained motion that was over almost as soon as it had begun. She didn’t move an inch or let even a gasp escape, standing utterly still in the center of the store, head still bowed.

The galdor dropped the bolt of fabric on the now-muddy floor, his lips pursing as if the whole shop was too bitter a taste. “I’ll try the satin.” He said, looking up at Ava, wiping the hand that had been holding the silk on his pant leg, as if to rub it off.

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