Moongazing [solo]

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Brunnhold's college town, located inside the university grounds.

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Juniper Feldspar
Posts: 86
Joined: Sun Nov 18, 2018 12:53 pm
Topics: 10
Race: Wick
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Foxing
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Tue Mar 12, 2019 9:49 am

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Around the stacks| Mid-morning
9th OPHUS 2718
Juniper drifted through the market, covered basket on his arm, in a distracted haze. He might not find it today, not that he knew what he was looking for…

...it just has to be perfect…


The perfect fabrics for the perfect garment.

Bundled up against the cold with a warm purple velvet scarf and grey leather gloves lined with lambswool, Miranda coiled around his neck under the plush, heavy fabric. The hem of his grey wool coat rippled in the stiff, cold breeze, flashes of shimmering purple dupion lining flickering through every once in a while.

With this model, any palette would work, but he rather wanted something to enhance the wearer, not simply display his creation…

Everything he saw was too brash, too much. Velvets too plush, brocade to busy, colours to loud.

The stalls all seemed to blend into one rainbow wash. The little tailor could feel a headache brewing at the back of his skull, and was about to give up, when…

...what's that?...

He stopped as a sparkle caught his eye. It was a bead-seller, dishes of ersatz gems and soft pearls glinting in the late winter light. Arranged in a rainbow spectrum from deepest red to palest purple… but then his fingers were sifting through tiny crescents cut of shimmering mother-of-pearl, and a lump caught in his throat.

...perfect…

He could create his own.

Some moments later he was on his way home and realised that he had no clue what money hand changed hands, but his basket was full of little packets of beads in shimmering quartz and silvered glass and mother-of-pearl… and cost bedamned, if focusing on an ongoing project would stop him daydreaming through his actual paid work…

...that's not why, though, is it?...


It had been well over a month since they had slipped into his shop, and despite the gorgeous things he was paid to make, day in, day out...

...making them something beautiful won't stop ye thinking about them…

He shook his head, and heels clipped on the cobbles as the wick increased his pace, heavy basket weighing down his arm.

...ye don't want to stop thinking about them…


He stopped outside a coffee salon, distracted by the scent, and it must have filtered through his scarf too, for the miraan poked her head up with a chirrup, sniffing with interest.

“...would that be so bad, though…” he asked himself, reaching up to absent-mindedly caress his pet.

He vacillated for a moment in the doorway, earning a narrowed eye and disgruntled grumble from a leaving golly, but was too drawn in by the heady scent, and shouldered his way through the door to find an empty table and set his basket down upon it with a sigh.

As the little wick sat, waiting for the serving girl to work her way round to him, he tugged off his soft gloves, unwinding his scarf in the warm, cosily-lit interior. Miranda snaked down his arm to curl up in his lap under the table, as she usually did in public spaces where they weren't sure she'd be welcomed.

Tugging the basket towards him over the table, the tailor flipped open the woven wicker cover, sifting his hand through the heavy little shifting packets within until he found the slightly lighter one he was after… and spilled those shimmering moons into his palm.

...one week with them, less than, that's all it took for ye to go starry-eyed over some spoke you'll ne'er see again...


He looked down at his lap, where Miranda gazed up at him, no doubt waiting for the cream she always got in places that smelled like this.

“What d'ye think, jinga?”
he whispered, gently stroking her softly feathered crest. “Ye think we’ll see them again?”

He hoped they would. And if they did, well…

...then I can dress them as they deserve...


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