If she'd had Rosmilda with her then she probably would have trusted the girl to fix it, her sewing skill exceptional, one of the best passives she'd come across who was so proficient in that area. Unfortunately, she hadn't brought the servant with her, deeming it pointless when she had intended to spend her time in the library during the day and socialise with galdori in the evening. She had two dresses with her for her two evenings and she had already worn her red, Hoxian-style dress so she'd intended to wear the purple, Hoxian-style one tonight. She couldn't afford to wear the same dress twice. She might encounter the same people and they would talk. The woman had been meaning to pick up some new dresses but not right now. Her options weren't plentiful. She could choose to buy new dresses or have it expertly repaired because she wouldn't let some sloppy passive near it.
Regardless of her decision, she would have to go to a tailor.
She donned a simple outfit, white blouse and blue skirt, wrapping her black cloak tightly around her before she bundled up her dress and stepped out of her room.
The young woman wasn't too familiar with the Stacks these days - it was quite a few years past time in Brunnhold - and despite making intermittent visits to the institution, she hadn't become reacquainted with it. As such, it was necessary for her to source a possible tailor and a good one. The Stacks was full of wicks and humans, as well as some passives, and so she wasn't keen to wander around it aimlessly, encountering all sorts of riffraff in the process. Her manner of dress wouldn't make her stick out as a well-off galdori but her attitude would, her field marking her as quite a capable sorceress. No one should bother her, no one should be that stupid but it only took one.
Based on the recommendations that she received, she discovered that there was a new tailor around in the Stacks, very new, the last week or so apparently. The novelty didn't make her feel particularly confident about the man's abilities but the claim that he made 'really nice stuff' and that he seemed to be doing all right with galdori clientele did make her feel a little better. It wasn't too far away from where she was at present and while she received a few other names, she didn't see the harm in going to check the shop out. If she had to visit more than one shop today then so be it.
When she stepped out into the warren of streets, it was late morning, mid-day fast approaching and she found herself sighing, gazing wistfully towards the campus proper. Sure, she would have been starting out this late in the day anyway - could she be blamed for getting her beauty rest when she could? - but she wasn't heading straight to the library and she had no idea how many hours might pass before she got there, had a chance to settle. Depending on how this little errand went, she might not be very interested in studying at all, an irritating notion given the effort she'd taken to make use of the Grand Library.
She wove through various bodies in the maze-like streets, flexing her field when people grew too close and watching them move away from her, leaving her with a bubble of space as if she was a soap droplet in oil. She trotted along, grey-black-shift field broadcasting her ill-humour to those around her who could read it. There was a slight pulse to it in any case, people wisely giving her a wide berth as she headed to her destination, following the directions she'd been given.
The shop she found was an old one, the building at least but the panes were sparkling, the sign shining and not yet weather-beaten. Her head tilted up, eyes taking in the name - 'Feldspar Tailoring' - and the design on the signs surface: tape measure, thimble, needle and thread and - perhaps the only odd thing - a silvery miraan. She considered its exterior, reading the neat little notice in the window, brows raising at the mention of discretion. What sort of work was the tailor expecting to receive?
She could tell little about the interior from this side, the windows muddling the view so that she could only gain a sense of colour as the shapes within were greatly distorted. It looked colourful inside, she could tell that much but the best way of assessing it would presumably be to cross the threshold. Doing just that, she was greeted with the soft tinkle of a bell, a subtle sound that wasn't too grating on the eardrums, something that she appreciated. The interior was warm, bearing the barest scent of something chemical, vanishing after a few moments although it was presumably something that had not yet evaporated from the staining of the counters. It was a worn little space but someone had gone to great effort to spruce it up, the juxtaposition of old and new surprisingly pleasant.
Rich fabrics in vibrant colours drew her eye, drifting towards the bolts before she could stop herself. The diplomat resisted the urge to reach out and paw the materials, allowing herself to experience them through her eyes alone, drinking in the visual textures and imagining how it would feel beneath her fingers. The pulsing of her field ceased, the grey-black-shift changing to something brighter and lighter to reflect her change in mood. The woman could never resist pretty things.
As such, it took a moment for Drezda to remember why she was here and what had been the source of great annoyance only moments ago. The Hoxian pulled herself together, turning, dress held carefully as she approached the counter to talk to... well, she assumed the owner but who knew for sure?
"Pardon me, I'd heard that you might be able to help me with something. I have a problem with a dress and I don't know if it's reparable. I actually need it to be reparable because I need it. Hoxian-style dresses aren't that easy to come by in Anaxas." Not decent ones, she added silently.
"Either you can help me or I can look elsewhere but I need something done about that!" she explained briskly, placing the dress down on the counter top, smoothing it out so she could point out that offending gape.
"Well?"