[Closed] Off the Leash (Ava)

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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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Shae
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: Too pretty for you
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Tue Oct 01, 2019 5:44 pm

Roalis 10, 2717 | Evening
Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
.
Coins jingled in his pocket and there was a bounce in his steps. His fingers were curled around the neck of the battered old guitar that had made him money today. The wick whistled cheerily to himself, heading back from the direction of the Dives, pleased with how the day had gone.

He'd managed to escape the shop today, the matter of convincing his mother being an easy enough one. It had been a beautiful Roalis day, the sun practically splitting the stones and there was a pleasant bustle outside. The temperatures so far this season had been hot and humid, a mugginess that made the air sticky and oppressively heavy. It wasn't that long since the rainy season and that wetness had persisted, crawling into the new month. However, today had been a perfect day. There had been no morning mist like on the other days and he had known that it would be a good day to go out. It wasn't the kind of day where he was likely to end up with sweaty fingers slipping and sliding over the instrument's strings. Not the kind of day that made people eager to scuttle on past, sticky and fanning themselves, impatient to get to their destinations. Instead, it was a good day to play. A good day to be heard.

Shae had been quite right of course. He'd been able to play with reckless abandon, music firing his soul while the day's warmth made him dewy. There had been sour notes aplenty but he hadn't cared and his audience hadn't seemed to mind too much either. Maybe some of the coins tossed his way had been thrown out of pity but some people had lingered, especially when he took off his shirt. It hadn’t been a tactic - it wasn’t one he’d have expected to work - but it had been bloody hot, especially staying still for so long. When he got into his music, he managed to work up quite a sweat! Making music could be hard work and it couldn’t be helped that he was so… passionate.

Admittedly, he hadn't been entirely focused on playing music and making money the entire day but taking some time to steal some kisses with a pretty witch certainly wasn't a waste as far as he was concerned. It did mean that he probably hadn't made quite as much money as he could have. Still, there was a tally or two in amongst the forts and the occasional hats so there really wasn't any room for complaints, not from Tessa anyway. The teenager had diminished that money a bit but he'd had to eat and drink after all his hard work. What was more, he'd be home long before dark although there was a fair stretch in the evenings so in truth, he could have stayed out for awhile yet. The sun was only starting on that slow dip where shadows grew long and everything was turned to gold in its slanting rays.

As he strutted through the Painted Ladies on his way home, the relative youth of the evening struck him and he wondered why he should have to head home just yet. Tessa would find something for him to do, some tedious and dull task, something he wasn't in the humour for right now. The wick couldn't understand why handing over his earnings didn't free him of such nonsense but he knew from experience that the coins in his pockets would be no defence against the seemingly endless chores that his mother devised. That didn't mean that Shae couldn't put his time to good use. He had a prospect in mind that seemed more enjoyable to him and if all went well - assuming he didn't screw anything up this time - then he would actually be helping his mother out. Not that Tessa needed to know that.

Drawing near to home, he headed for the new draper's shop instead of his own although he hesitated at its door. Woven Delights. He'd been in here just a few days previously making an utter fool of himself but he'd vowed to come back. That didn't mean that he didn't feel a little apprehensive about doing so. It wasn't like she'd have forgotten what an idiot he'd been and clumsy as well. After the fact, the young musician had considered his actions and his words and had cringed. There was no guarantee that re-entering the premises sans his mother would make him behave any less like a child.

Still, he took a few deep breaths and considered his purpose. There was a point to this, not just some flight of fancy that had occurred to him. Ava Weaver had the potential to be an ally and a friend to his mother, one that would be sorely needed when he left home. It was a matter of convincing the young woman to be on the witch's side without getting distracted by having his brain drop. She was seriously distracting but he was steeling himself, charged with purpose. He pushed the door open.

The bell tinkled merrily, the scents of fresh and varied materials filling his nose. He peeped in surreptitiously, not wanting to disturb her if she had customers but the coast appeared to be clear - unless she had someone in the backroom of course. In any case, he straightened, eyes darting up automatically to check that there was space for his head.

"Hello Miss... uh... Ava?" he called out, wincing noticeably. Circle strike him, why hadn't he thought about what to call her. Calling her Miss Weaver seemed strange, Ava alone too familiar and yet Miss Ava seemed strangely artificial. The guitar bumped the door jamb, sending a discordant hum through the air. Shit. He hadn't considered the guitar. He could have dropped it home, should have but then he would have had to explain to Tessa why he was going back out. He just had to avoid bumping it into anything, yet another one of his appendages that could upset the order of the establishment. Leaning it against something was a possibility, near the door for instance but that would be too presumptuous of him. Instead, he allowed his grasp on it to tighten, holding it close against his body as he stepped up to the counter, eyes moving to the draper herself, a small smile for her.

"I hope you don't mind me dropping in like this but... I wanted to talk to you about something. If I may. And I promise I won't cause any trouble this time!" he interjected hurriedly, fingers moving to curl the hair that hung loose from his ponytail. "I am sorry about that - the silk - even though everything turned out okay. It might not have so... I'm sorry. Can I- Is it all right if I call you Ava? I don't want to..." he trailed off, blushing as his gaze darted down to his feet.



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Ava Weaver
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Wed Oct 02, 2019 12:14 pm

Evening, Roalis 10th, 2717
Woven Delights, the Painted Ladies
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T
he woman stood in front of the dark blue silk, studying it, a soft, wistful look on her face. She looked as if she had just finished work; her straight, yellow hair was scraped back off her face, severe.

“It’s lovely silk,” Ava said, softly. She smiled from the counter, standing behind it, her hands folded one over the other. Her dress today was a soft brown, with cotton sleeves and skirt, and a rich silk top, glimmering in the light. The sleeves were long and straight; the skirt too, with a pointed hem at the bottom, accented beneath with a faint light green to lengthen the skirt, and at the wrists, silk like the top; there was almost no other accenting on the dress, but the silk hardly needed it.

“Too lovely for me,” The woman said, regretfully. She admired it again, then turned to Ava, and grinned. “But I’ve been meaning to come in and admire it for a week. My name’s Rosie Mullins.”

“Ava Weaver,” Ava said, smiling. “And no, not at all - the color would suit you perfectly. Please, feel free to come admire it any time you like.”

“No, no!” Rosie laughed. “Don’t tempt me like that. It’s a lovely shop you’ve made here.”

Ava smiled a little wider, glancing around. “Thank you,” she said, standing a little straighter. It had, Ava thought, regretfully, been a very long day; she was so tired. The moment this woman left, Ava decided, she would close the shop; go upstairs, perhaps. She could take a night off, couldn’t she?

“It must be hard,” Rosie grinned.

“I’m sorry?” Ava smiled at her. Hard? Hard managing the shop alone? Rosie wouldn’t be the first of her neighbors to express that opinion; even before the shop had opened, there had been so many gentle questions about whether there was a Mr. Weaver – whether Mr. Weaver would be helping with the construction, would be helping with the shop. Gentle questions; could a woman really manage such a burden? She knew she didn’t stiffen in anticipation of the question; she knew she kept nothing but a smooth, pleasant expression on her face. Something beneath it seemed to tighten, something she couldn’t name.

“Having so much lovely fabric around,” Rosie grinned wider. “I’d have a hard time doing anything but admiring it.”

Ava blinked at her, once, and then laughed, caught off-guard. “Oh,” she giggled, and leaned forward a little against the counter. “It’s a challenge,” she said, mock-seriously, and couldn’t help grinning.

Rosie grinned a little wider, a faint, pleasant light in her blue eyes. “I’d best get home but – have a good night, Ms. Weaver.”

“Ava,” Ava said, abruptly. “Please.”

“Ava,” Rosie grinned. “And I’m Rosie.”

“Rosie,” Ava agreed. She was smiling still; she had, she thought, needed that laugh; it had loosened something inside her chest she had not known was tight. “Nice to meet you, Rosie. Benea light your path.”

“And yours,” Rosie said, smiling. She left; the door of the shop closed behind her, and Ava thought the room retained a little of the pleasant warmth of her smile. She brushed her hair back from her face, and took a deep breath. She would wait a few moments more, Ava decided, before she closed; a few moments more, and she thought she did have the strength to face all those orders of fabric waiting to be cut. She didn’t feel nearly as tired as she had.

Ava knelt behind her counter, and took out the handful of order papers that she had, along with a little weight to hold them down. She set them on the counter, and began to sort. Two for cotton, one for linen, one for silk. Silk was, Ava thought regretfully, by far the trickiest; she hadn’t quite mastered cutting it yet. As lovely as this dress was, she ought to have been able to sell the fabric, but her hands had betrayed her, and she’d nearly ruined an entirely panel. It was the merest luck – and great skill on the tailor’s part – that had rescued it into the dress.

Ava was busy staring at the silk order when the bell rang, and she looked up, surprised, to see Shae Taylor at the entrance, clutching a large guitar against himself, a faint hum ringing through the door. He smiled at her, and Ava smiled back, reflexively, hardly thinking of it. She opened her mouth to tell him it was no trouble; her lips were pale pink today, her eyes rimmed evenly with black, and for all that it was evening, her make-up looked as fresh as if she had just applied it.

Ava inhaled, faintly, at his request. No, she thought; Miss Ava wasn’t quite – and it would be hard, terribly hard, to redirect him to Ms. Weaver, by now. She smiled instead. “Of course, Ava’s fine,” Ava said, not meaning it in the least, but aware that Shae would not be able to see that reluctance beneath her pleasant smile, the soft crinkling at the edges of her eyes. “Good evening, Shae. It’s good to see you again,” it was an odd sort of familiarity – uncomfortable, a tension in her chest strung in the air between herself and this boy who seemed to her so very young, fumbling and blushing. She was grateful for the substance of the counter between them.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Ava asked, smiling still.

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Shae
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: Too pretty for you
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Mon Oct 07, 2019 7:17 am

Roalis 10, 2717 | Evening
Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
.
She'd had her head down when he walked in, actively absorbed in something and yet she was quick to summon the smile, the wick immediately feeling welcome, wanted. It was so natural, so warming and the young musician couldn't help but smile himself. He wasn't entirely sure if it was possible to avoid doing so when faced with the pretty curving of her lips. Such a lovely light pink, a colour that he could never pull off with his looks, sure to clash horribly with his hair and freckles.

Don't think about that, Shae. You can't stain your lips.

But he had marked his eyes, the thin line of brown along the lids that had been painstakingly applied and probably didn't look anywhere near as fresh as hers. Oh no, he hadn't even thought about that little bit of cosmetic usage, something like a rebellion and yet really it was... a concession. It was something he could have instead of the bits of gender representation that he couldn't. Given the heat and how many times he'd wiped the sweat from his face, he didn't want to know what his appearance must be like right now.

The teenager was already self-conscious in her presence but that was something else for him to ponder. Had he had a chance to line his eyes on the day of his previous visit? Had she seen that little sign of femininity then? He didn't think he'd had a chance because Tessa had rushed him and it wasn't something that he did every day in any case. A wick would get it but humans could sometimes be leery about anything that bent gender as they expected it to be and galdori could be the same.

Thus far, she hadn't recoiled so maybe it had been rubbed off or she hadn't noticed it yet - he thought it was subtle enough after all. Although... maybe she didn't mind. In fact, she was unbelievably nice and despite his steeling, he could feel the colour creeping across his face. He wasn't here to be a boy blushing over a crush - not that it was a crush, it couldn't be, he'd only met her once - but his purpose was a little difficult to keep in mind.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, switching the guitar from his right hand to his left.

"It's um... it's good to see you too," he informed the counter, gaze flitting up to her face as he smiled timidly before dropping again. His right hand came up to undo the cord that held his hair in place, releasing gingery blond waves to cascade onto his shoulders. He ruffled it, separating the strands, some of which still clung together out of habit after being confined for so long.

Again the throat was cleared, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he considered where to start. Looking at her would probably help. There was no point telling the papers that she'd been looking over; he doubted that they'd pass on the message.

The guitar was passed back to his right hand with deliberate slowness, the end of the exchange marking the beginning of a change in him. The wick looked up, straightening to the fullness of his height, releasing a slow breath. The smile had dimmed, a slight downturn to the corners now, the barest crease between his brows. Right, he was serious now, he was. He wasn't thinking about how she got her hair so glossy - dark hair could be so lovely and shiny - or her use of cosmetics, the simple but complimentary cut of her dress or anything about how beautiful she was and how... together. He could be together too, in control. Just because he was sixteen didn't mean that he was incapable of being composed.

"I actually wanted to talk about... my mother," he began cautiously, brown gaze beginning to drift down as he considered his next words. It jolted back up, the young man swallowing hard. He was just nervous and inclined to drop his gaze, he hadn't been looking anywhere... untoward.

Please don't think I'm like that, please don't think I'm like that, he thought to himself, feeling his blush intensify.

Once again, he cleared his throat; at this rate, she was going to think that he was coming down with something.

"Okay so... we've been on our own for years, just me and my ma- mother. My father... isn't around, he shows up sometimes but it's really j-just us and if I leave then... then..." Shae began, hesitant and stuttering before the words rushed out.

"I only realised the other day that if I leave home that me ma will be on her own and she might be lonely because she doesn't have any friends. It's just me and the shop and always the work, so much work, she doesn't stop, doesn't think about anything else," the teenager blurted, voice rising a bit, both hands around the neck of the guitar now as he unthinkingly tried to twist it in his grasp.

"I never thought that she might be lonely, but I do know that I can't stay there anymore. I don't want to stitch and repair and wash and all that clocking chroveshit! I like playing and I'm not as good as me da but I make good coin and I don't mean to abandon her altogether, I'm not clocking selfish, course I'd give her money. I just need to leave and make my own way and not every once in awhile when I have to beg but now if I leave... she'll be all alone."

By the last words, his voice had lowered, becoming small, the shoulders hunching forward while he visibly deflated. This time, he made no effort to maintain eye contact as his gaze fell to the counter. He agitated a string making a discordant buzzing hum that seemed to parallel his current state of mind.

"Sorry for getting um... Sorry for being crude but I got a bit carried away," he mumbled, head bowed in a way that had hair swinging onto his face, partially obscuring it. "I know that you're new here and that you don't really know my mother but I was wondering if... if you'd be willing to uh... b-be her friend?"

The last elicited a wince from him, the teenager considering how he must sound; he was such an idiot. A childish idiot but... he'd had to try.

"You must think I'm moony, I'm sorry. You don't need me acting like an idiot and asking mung favours. You don't even know me! And after a day of work, you don't want me- shouldn't have to- I'm sorry!"

Agitated, he hugged his guitar to him, dragging his fingers through his hair in such a way that his scarlet face was further obscured. He should just go but... maybe she'd say yes?


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Ava Weaver
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Mon Oct 07, 2019 12:29 pm

Evening, Roalis 10th, 2717
Woven Delights, the Painted Ladies
Shae was staring at her, just a little. There was a pinkness to his face, the flush of a day spent in the sun, burned onto the tip of his nose. There was a little smear of brown eyeliner along his eyelids, just creeping up, and a mysterious bit of dirt somewhere along his jawline. He fiddled with his hair, a crimped line left in it even when he released the tie. He shifted his feet - he glanced at her again and his cheeks reddened further - he passed his guitar from his right to his left, and to his right again.

Ava saw it all, but no flicker of awareness crossed her face; she held her smile, and she waited, giving him the time he needed. There was no sense of impatience to her, no gesturing or shifting; she was still and calm behind the counter.

And, given a few moments, Shae straightened himself up and he took a deep breath, and said that he wanted to talk about his mother.

There was no feigning to the flicker of surprise that crossed Ava’s face. Shae had paused again, and Ava kept her thoughts in check; they didn’t race and wander, but held behind her face. He would come to the point soon enough, if he had one; anticipating wouldn’t help her in the least.

He was calm at first - and then he wasn’t, a rushing of words like water bursting through a dam, pouring out and slopping over the floor of her shop. Ava let her eyes widen a little as he went on, but she listened, intently, and she never took her gaze from Shae’s face; she listened, as she always did, as if she had nothing else to think about, as if there were nothing else in the world but the person speaking to her. She couldn’t quite help it; it was second nature, now, and she wasn’t sure how else to listen.

Ava dropped her gaze for a moment when Shae cursed, recoiling very slightly. She didn’t think it wise to encourage that sort of familiarity; it was an easy way to draw a boundary between them, an easy way to write a line between herself and the rest of the Painted Ladies. Don’t be vulgar, she thought, and she knew it wasn’t her own voice whispering in her head. But he said clocking and chroveshit and whether it was the faint rebuke in her eyes or his own manners (she was sure Tessa must have taught him then), Shae was shrinking in on himself once more, but he didn’t stop, fumbling through the words, finally finding the question he had wanted to ask.

Ava softened, slowly. There was the faintest easing of her shoulders; her hands didn’t quite move on the counter, but perhaps the curl of her fingers relaxed, ever so slightly.

Ava thought of giving him a yes - a quick and easy answer, of getting him out the door and on home without any further mess, without any further time spent on it. There were a range of yeses she could offer that would be truthful enough, that would set him at ease and send him away.

And Ava thought too of a no, of a rebuke - or telling him that he was being selfish to ask this of her, to bother her. He had found that conclusion himself; she wouldn’t need to press especially hard. It would be terribly easy to make him feel just a little worse without seeming to try, to send him off and likely never to return.

Ava sighed, a faint, soft little exhale, and smiled at Shae. It wasn’t her shopkeeper’s smile now, and though it was still friendly, it wasn’t quite so warm; there was a little edge to it, a slight crookedness.

“Your mother’s a strong woman,” Ava said. “I’d be grateful to call her a friend.”

Ava held there, just a moment, but she didn’t stop. She could have; it would have been easy to let it end there, but she didn’t want to, and that was enough. She chose, and it sang somewhere inside her, soft through her veins, whispering: this is you.

“You want to be yourself,” Ava said, and her tone gentled now, softly, although the slight crookedness of her smile didn’t fade. “There’s nothing wrong with that, but I can’t keep it from hurting her. No one can.”

There was nothing wrong with the want, Ava thought, and she tried to let that show through in her tone – tried to keep it encouraging, perhaps even reassuring. It was childish, though, to think that one could do what they wished without harm to others. Shae didn’t have to choose his mother’s life – didn’t have to stitch and repair and all the rest, not if he didn’t want to. He was lucky to have choice; Ava didn’t begrudge him it, and she was glad to see that he knew it too.

But Ava thought it important that he make his choices with his eyes open, that he know what it was he did, young as he was.

“It’s good of you to try,” Ava added, even more gently this time, and held, still and patient behind the counter, and did not press further. Her face smoothed out, smile soft and a little sad, now, with no more crookedness left to it.

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Shae
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: Too pretty for you
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Mon Oct 07, 2019 5:36 pm

Roalis 10, 2717 | Evening
Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
.
He didn't know what to expect her to do after his bumbling way of approaching the subject, a thousand things he could and should have said now flowing through his mind. If she laughed at him for his foolishness, for the childish sounding request then he wouldn't be surprised. It sounded awfully childish to his own ears now but it wasn't quite what he'd meant. He'd wanted to ask if Ava would be his mother's ally, someone she could rely on in times of need, someone who could help take a burden so that she didn't have to bear it alone. She was in a position to have a close business relationship with Tessa, a symbiosis where each benefited from the other. The concept in his head was clear as crystal but he didn't have the words. As soon as he opened his mouth, the stupidest things always came out. He wasn't eloquent, he didn't have the skill or the vocabulary to weave words into complex descriptions. He'd seen players on the stage - who hadn't flipped a fort or two to catch a show? - and they painted such impressive pictures with everything they said, the need for props non-existent once they opened their mouths.

But Shae couldn't do that. He knew things by feel, knew them in a less definable way and it meant that every time he tried to take it out of his head and translate it, it always came out... wrong. And then he'd end up frustrated, hearing how poorly it was coming across and then he tied himself in greater knots and said things that he didn't mean at all. That wasn't what he wanted to happen. Miscommunication was one of his greatest failings and no matter how hard he tried, it never got easier.

He hadn't meant to swear for one thing, he knew better than that. It was vulgar and uncouth and not at all proper, not in front of her and he'd known that. But it had just slipped out and he saw the reaction but it had already slipped out. The wick had as much chance of reining such language in when he was in full passion as he had of stopping the colloquialisms and Tek from spilling over his lips - no chance at all!

It was just too much for him, the intent attention that he gave her and his own awkwardness in her presence, both coming together so that he'd fallen apart and said things the wrong way and in language that he shouldn't have used.

But he was profoundly grateful that she didn't laugh, as she might have done, but instead softened in what seemed to be sympathy. There was no immediate response though, the draper seriously considering his clumsy and misjudged words. The silence between them stretched on, the young man waiting with bated breath before releasing a sigh of relief.

An affirmative. She'd be Tessa's ally although he doubted that she'd managed to grasp his true intent from his fumbled rhetoric; she couldn't understand everything that he hoped for his mother's sake.

He relaxed, the tension in his form easing, the wan beginnings of a smile on his lips as he raised his eyes. Cut short, frozen as she continued on and then he shrank in on himself a bit, flinching despite himself as she said that there was nothing wrong with being himself. But that wasn't true. There was a reason why his flirtations with femininity had been only that - flirtations. Cautious and subtle, the sort of things that could go largely unnoticed by the custom that passed through their shop. Not as visible as a skirt on his lanky friend that had produced such revulsion from that galdor man that time, the one who had snatched back his clothing and withdrawing his custom. Tessa hadn't blamed him, hadn't asked him to stop but he had seen the weary hunch of her shoulders even through his own tear-blurred gaze and he had told himself that he did it for her sake; in truth, he didn't want to feel that way again, didn't want to be looked at like that and had such things said to him while his heart was twisted and squeezed within him.

Ava couldn't have guessed how her words would strike, kindly offered as they'd been, because she didn't know his history. He took a few deep breaths, waiting for the ache within him to dull but it wasn't in his heart, not in a physical sense although it certainly felt like it. The young man was deadly serious now, his expression pained. His glamour was like a storm clouds, heavy and dark and miserable with strikes of guilt and frustration darting through it.

"I... I know it'll hurt her. No matter what I do or how to do it... it'll hurt her. She says I'm too like my dad and he... He tried to settle in Vienda, he really did, but he couldn't take it. He's a spoke, he's got to travel, just as my mum has got to stay still; she tried his way of life too," he explained with a despondent one-shoulder shrug, half-arsed. "I've got to do it or I'll go moony and if I tried... I've got a temper, I can't keep it in and I don't want to fight with her. I'll hurt her if I stay and I'll hurt her if I go but staying would be worse for us both in the long run."

The teenager dragged hair back from his face, huffing out a frustrated breath. "I can't stop it but I just wanted to try to... make it easier on her. I'm not abandoning her, I will give her money, I will come back but... I feel like I'm abandoning her anyway. I just want to know that there's someone else who'll have her back if I'm not around and the two of you... sweet Lady, you could work closely together. You sell cloth, she can make and patch clothing with it, there are so many things that you can do for each other so it's not like... it's not a weird idea. I've thought about it but... I didn't want to assume."

His freckled face was radiating earnestness, lips pouted as he gazed at Ava, hoping that she'd understand where he was coming from and that he wasn't trying to offend. He moved to rub at an eye but froze, remembering the eyeliner that had been there and might still remain.

"I'm sure that you think that I'm very um... young but I'm not... I'm not stupid, I'm really not. I'm not innocent either. I've been looked at like that often enough to know that look, that tone of voice. Just because a fair few people can't reach the top of my head to pat it doesn't mean that they don't do something like it in the way they talk," he added a little hotly, the warmth coming to his cheeks. "Maybe I shouldn't have disturbed you, shouldn't have talked like this but it's not my fault that I don't have your... your... your way!"

He waved in her direction, unable to articulate what he wanted to describe her demeanour, her confidence, her composure. She could say the right thing while he could only trip over his own tongue.

"I'm just trying to look out for my mother. I don't think that she needs a man or someone to lean on, not when she brought me up when I was too young to help and still managed to run the shop. She's capable but she... she shouldn't have to be alone, all right? No one... no one deserves to be alone..." he finished softly, gazing down at his feet, swallowing spasmodically.

Shae was fairly sure that he'd just affirmed his own immaturity instead of refuting it.


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Ava Weaver
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Mon Oct 07, 2019 6:23 pm

Evening, Roalis 10th, 2717
Woven Delights, the Painted Ladies
Ava saw that she’d hurt him with that second sentence, when she’d said he wanted to be himself; she’d seen the way he flinched, the way his tall, lanky frame had hunched in, as if he could make himself smaller. She hadn’t meant it to strike a nerve; she hadn’t known it would. Should she have known? It was an uncomfortable question, squirming in her stomach, as she watched the wick breathe through what looked like pain.

Ava hadn’t thought it would be easy for him to hear; she had made her choice, she thought, and there had been harm to him. Something soured in her stomach at the feel of it, but she didn’t let it show on her face, holding still and steady against the counter. Had she weighed her own actions? Had she thought them through? Had she known the cost?

He was close enough that she could feel the weight of his glamour against her, suffocating, a match for the pain that pinched his face. Ava didn’t interrupt him again, letting it out – he went from frustrated to earnest and back again, reached to rub his eyes and froze, tries to find his words again. When he blushed again, when he gestured at her and complained that he didn’t have her way –

Ava’s breath caught in her throat, faintly; she felt it hitch, and she couldn’t – she couldn’t quite – something rippled over her face, and she looked away from the wick, and held, steady, her hands resting over one another on the counter. Her shoulders didn’t shake; her breath didn’t catch again – there was no need to blink away tears, because she had already smoothed away the feeling of heat behind her eyes.

If only he knew, she thought, and the bitter fury of it startled her.

He hadn’t meant it, no more than she had, and as soon as the anger had come it was gone, leaving only the bitterness behind. Ava looked back at the boy insisting he wasn’t young, and understood she could not tell him how poorly it had worked. He responded to a thousand things she hadn’t said, voiced all his innermosts with a furious heat and descended back into a worried, sullen silence, looking more boyish than ever, and even the bitterness seemed to fade away.

“No,” Ava agreed, quietly. “No one deserves to be alone.”

Ava watched him from the other side of the counter still, holding steady and almost silent. She took a deep, slow breath, the calming sort, not so much for her own sake as his, and another, as if he might catch the rhythm from her. There was not much more she could say in response to what he'd said; she thought he knew that it wasn't right to ask her to shoulder his mother's burdens in his absence. She thought that perhaps that wasn't quite how he'd meant it either. She thought he meant it well, all of it, no matter how poorly it had gone.

“It’s nice,” Ava tried, gently. She thought she understood where she’d gone wrong at the beginning; she thought perhaps she could help. “That shade of brown, with your eyes,” she’d lost her smile, somewhere in the tsunami of words that had raged from the young man, and she found it again – not quite a smile, this time, but something like a grin, a little shared secret between friends. Dangerous, Ava thought; dangerous. It was a treacherous line to walk, but she –

Ava was not sorry for what she had said, not quite. She supposed that she knew now that Shae did understand, and she was sorry that the words she had tried had wounded him, when she hadn’t meant them to. But even without that, she thought, she’d have wanted to make recompense. And she did want to. Was that enough? Suddenly she wasn’t so sure; what if it was the wrong choice, yet again? It was a precious burden, she thought, and all the more wonderful for it.

But Ava had started down the path already, and she wouldn’t shy back, and so she choose again, carefully picking her way through her words. Her shoulders had softened again, whatever tension had rippled through her gone as if it had never existed.

“A bit of powder in the same color will help keep it from smudging.” Ava offered, like a hand outstretched to a drowning man, and her grin widened a little more, inviting him to smile as well.

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Shae
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: Too pretty for you
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Tue Oct 08, 2019 8:02 am

Roalis 10, 2717 | Evening
Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
.
Shae knew that his way with words was... lacking at best. He could screw up the simplest of communications, managing to say all the wrong things or to say things slightly wrong, but the effect was always the same. He saw the ripple travel across her face although he didn't know what it was. Was she upset? Enraged? Embarrassed? Either way, she was stricken in some way that he hadn't intended. All because he couldn't articulate himself. He could backpedal and attempt to explain himself again but he was almost certain to make it much, much worse.

When she did turn towards him again, her smile did not return immediately and it was amazing what a different its lack made to her features. Without it, she seemed older, perhaps a little weary but also... hard. Ava had the look of someone who was quite capable of looking after herself, a steel just beneath the surface even as she laid an impassive expression over her visage. The young man gulped and smiled tentatively, a show of teeth that was both nervous and brittle, ready to go to pieces at the tiniest word or gesture against him.

By the time her smile did return though, his own had gone, face slackened with shock, eyes wide and a little fearful.

So she'd seen- The eyeliner was still- She wasn't-

It was a compliment, a small unexpected peace offering that had him taking a hesitant step back, eyes darting from side to side, anticipating the drop of the other shoe. Was she going to call him a freak next? Had she opened like that so she could hit him with something nasty, making his pain more starkly visible?

The grin, the crookedness of it and that... knowing, conspiratorial look. He didn't know what to make of that at all. The wick didn't understand where it had come from for one thing. He dropped his gaze, well aware that the pink must be flooding his cheeks again. He let his arms droop, the bottom of the guitar hitting the ground with a hollow thunk, a humming twang in the strings as the vibrations spread and he winced. Biting his lip anxiously, he raised the instrument and turned it, checking the area to ensure that it hadn't fared too poorly on account of his carelessness.

It was a good excuse too and an obvious one, a decent reason to be distracted and not respond. He didn't know how to respond. No one had ever commented on his little affectations. They were always such minor things, so small that they shouldn't be too noticeable as to be striking and lead to a social backlash but they were something at least. They were never enough, he wished that he could do more, that he could be allowed to do more and not be judged for it. Well, not judged negatively. The idea that it might appeal to someone, that they'd find his gender expression attractive rather than repulsive would be wonderful.

Tessa had sometimes made little comments, attempted to help him in little ways but she wasn't one for makeup that highlighted. Her own use was subtle and natural looking, designed to obscure rather than accentuate and he was fairly sure that many people thought she didn't wear any at all. But she had helped him scrounge things, had never prevented him from expressing himself in this way. A mother's opinion was very different though. To have an attractive woman to whom he was a veritable stranger make a favourable comment.

His pulse was thunderous, the rush of blood affecting more than his cheeks in giddiness and pleasure. Shae's face must surely have grown redder as his self-consciousness increased, glad that the counter was between them, glad that he held the guitar which could be used to obscure. It wasn't intentional, it really wasn't but sometimes these things couldn't be helped. He didn't know if she be amused or disgusted if Ava knew what affect she'd had on him.

The teenager's smile was shy and uncomfortable, the redhead unable to meet her eye, feeling that she'd be able to tell too much from his gaze.

"I uh... th-thanks. I um... I didn't know that. About the powder. I... I don't have any. Not in this colour. Um..." he mumbled.

He'd thought himself poorly communicative before but now the youth felt worse, hardly able to squeeze words out, each one a struggle as his thoughts scattered in his head. Fingers rose, fluttering aimlessly by his face before he managed to find a strand of hair to distract them, tucking it carefully behind his ear while he licked his lip.

"I don't have a lot of uh... I have a couple of things but... it's not f-fair to buy a load of-" he broke off, taking a few calming breaths before his gaze darted up, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"You don't th-think it's weird?" he blurted, a hopeful light in his gaze even as anxiousness creased his forehead. The lip was caught between teeth again, brown orbs dropping again as he tugged the guitar closer to his form. He needed to calm down, not get so excited but the rush of her words was new and unexpected, leaving Shae unable to suppress certain... impulses.


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Ava Weaver
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Tue Oct 08, 2019 2:37 pm

Evening, Roalis 10th, 2717
Woven Delights, the Painted Ladies
Shae jerked back, blushed – nearly dropped his guitar, and anxiously checked it for damages. Ava would have winced in sympathy, but she thought it better to pretend she hadn’t seen – or, at least, that to acknowledge his discomfort wouldn’t ease it in the least. She didn’t press him for a response, or ask him to hurry up, not even as his gaze lingered overlong on the bottom of the guitar, as he turned it from side to side and then checked it again.

His face was even redder than it had been before, and for a moment Ava doubted – no, she thought, and it settled somewhere inside her. She could trust her instincts; she had to. This shop, this life – they were built, Ava thought, on her instincts. She had promised that she could do this; she had promised it to herself, but she wasn’t the only one who was counting on her. And she could do it. She had seen the eyeliner – she had seen that flinch of his, the lifting of his hand – she had made a guess, and she still didn’t think she had been wrong.

And how to handle it?

Ava waited, patient still, and Shae mumbled a thanks – fumbled his way through a few more words. Ava didn’t stare, but she didn’t look away either. She nodded gently when he said he didn’t have a lot of make-up – her collection was one of the few things she had kept. It was expensive, those little pots and brushes. She would take them, those gifts, and she would make them her own; she did not need to burn all of the past. She couldn’t; it would be a terrible waste. What she could turn to something new, of course, she had. And the rest? If she could use it, she would, and Ava had quickly found that she had a talent for re-purposing.

“No,” Ava said, easily, when Shae asked if she thought it was weird. She didn’t anticipate; she let him get the question out, and come to a stuttering stop at the end of it, his voice raised. But she didn’t hesitate, either; she didn’t make him wait for her answer.

It was, perhaps, a little more complicated than the quick no made it seem. It was not quite normal, for men to wear eyeshadow. And that weird of Shae’s, the way he had said it – fraught with the expectation of judgment, with shameful fear – no, Ava did not think it was weird, not in that way. She thought it was perhaps dangerous, but she felt he knew that without being told by her; she doubted that life had not already taught him that lesson. She could see it, she thought, in the hunching of his shoulders, in the catch of his voice.

“I think it shouldn’t matter,” Ava said, hands still settled on top of one another, the heavy weight of the counter between her and Shae. “I’m sorry it does.” She was conscious of not wanting to be too personal – of not wanting to reveal herself to him, not wanting to even dabble in the sort of intimacy that might lead to trouble down the line. She supposed it was already a bit late for that, but she would do her best to find a narrow line between encouragement and something stronger, and try to keep Shae firmly on the other side of it.

“The powder doesn’t need to be brown, necessarily,” Ava said, thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on the wick’s eyelids for a moment again. She found a brisk, competent tone very easily – it wasn’t hard. He wasn’t the first she had advised on make up, and those memories were pleasant and painful both. Ava would not leave them behind; she refused. She grinned, the heavy black kohl around her eyes glinting in the lowering evening light. “A complimentary shade would work as well, with brown liner. What do you have?”

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Shae
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Sat Oct 12, 2019 12:32 pm

Roalis 10, 2717 | Evening
Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
.
She really had her shit together. It was actually kind of maddening to see her so calm and collected and it seemed that she was largely unshakeable. Even when she was shook, it was a minimal reaction, nothing like what happened when ordinary people were thrown my something. Hell, it was nothing like what happened when Shae was affected by things. He could all too clearly recall kneeling on her floor almost bawling his eyes out and spouting apologies over some knocked silk. She was nigh on unflappable and the wick got in a flap over just about everything.

Clock the Circle, Shae couldn't handle a compliment right now. Actually, it was wild. He could handle women - or men for that matter - complimenting his appearance in general, calling him attractive, and a whole host of things but he was strangely used to those and less affected. Blushing was one thing but this! Maybe it had been the all the kissing not so long ago but it didn't feel like it was that. The youth had been seen, really seen by Ava and that was possibly the most exciting thing he'd ever experienced.

But also really clocking embarrassing! The draper had made him all... all... self-conscious! Was it any wonder that he was all flustered?

Big brown eyes fixed on her face, teeth worrying at his lip while an attempt at a smile twitched around it, hopeful. She really didn't think that it was weird? That was difficult to believe, the sort of thing that someone said to be nice when it didn't really cost them anything to do it; they didn't really have to be supportive to make you feel better. However, when her next words came, a lump formed in his throat while he tried to find words to respond. He dropped his eyes to the counter top, gaze glittering with tears at the unexpected understanding.

He wiped tears away with the back of his hand, the smile he offered watery. It was strange to be so touched by her words, happy and yet crying. Clearly his body had all sorts of ideas about how it was meant to react to things today and the youth wasn't going to get a say in the matter. Being a teenager was clocking embarrassing, not to mention it left you all over the place. The boy hardly knew what he was doing half of the time and almost all of it was impulsive. His mother kept saying that no matter how he felt, it wasn't the be all and end all, nothing was as big a deal as he thought it was but no response seemed hyperbolic.

Then again, he was standing in a shop with a pretty lady filled to bursting with emotion and the giddy energy of it all didn't care where or how it came out. Anything and everything could be an outlet so why not all at the same time?

Being a teenager was clocking stupid.

Still, with so much going on inside him, there didn't seem to be room for much else; when she asked about what powder colours he had to work with, he frankly couldn't remember owning cosmetics, never mind the details about them.

"Um... I have... uh... white?" he hazarded, seeming to be asking Ava for confirmation about what he owned. "And one that's... kind of like my skin? Not the freckles but like... under it."

He poked his own cheek to illustrate the colour that he meant. "Skin colour. Would that... do it? Would it just end up covering it instead of helping?" he asked, nibbling his lip. He gave an awkward little shrug and a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm not good at this stuff... you know? What I have, I just... throw it on and... hope I don't look like a proper pillock."

He shuffled his feet and looked down, nervously fingering the guitar. "I should probably just go and... help my mother. Let you shut up shop and... I can get out of your hair," he mumbled, smiling shyly as he began shuffling backwards. He was all too aware that he couldn't just move away, couldn't simply walk out in an ordinary fashion, not without revealing himself and he'd done such a good job of keeping things hidden thus far - he hoped at least!

"Thanks for the advice but... I shouldn't take any more of your time. I guess that... I'll see you around?" He kept moving backwards, the guitar held before him like a shield, inching backwards until he hit the door and almost jumped out of his skin from the shock of it. "Okay. Thank you, goodbye!"

The wick very nearly ran out the door, aware that she possibly got more insight into him than he would have liked.


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Ava Weaver
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Sun Oct 13, 2019 3:18 pm

Evening, Roalis 10th, 2717
Woven Delights, the Painted Ladies
Shae’s eyes glinted with unshed tears, but Ava knew they were not from sorrow. She had shaken him, she thought. Perhaps she should have left well enough alone; perhaps she should have let the boy say what he wished and turned him away with easy answers. There would have been no unexpected pain, then, not for either of them, and no tears. But would that have been better?

Ava did not let on that she saw him teary-eyed, and happened to glance away just as the boy went to wipe his eyes. He smeared the eyeliner just a little more, Ava noticed, that thin brown line smudging over his lids.

She had meant it to be an easy question, the one of which powder he owned; she had thought it would give him something to focus on outside of his emotions. That was a trick Ava had learned long ago, and that without prompting. There had always been something to think about in those days; the angle of her head, the look on her face, remembering to hold still - not too still, not unnaturally still, but not to fidget either. It had all taken so much focus, once, and now it was almost easy to stand there, hands resting atop one another, a gentle smile on her face, a softness to her gaze as she looked at him.

“Try a very light dusting,” Ava said, gently, into the hesitant silence between his words. “Either color will lighten the brown, but not too much.”

Shae backed away then, easing backwards from her, as if he did not dare to turn around, as if he could not stay a moment longer. Ava watched him, even-faced, and didn’t take it personally. No, she thought, she was glad for what she had done. She had made her choice; she would stand by it now, come what may.

“Benea light your path, Shae. Give your mother my best,” Ava let him leave without objection. She held behind the counter until the tinkling of the bell was done, until the door was firmly shut to the outside world once more.

Ava stepped out from behind the counter and crossed the shop; she locked the door behind Shae, and drew the curtains that shielded the display of fabric at night, relieved to finally close the shop for the night.

Ava went back to the counter, and took out the silk order, double-checking the numbers. She found the heavy roll in the pile behind her, lifting it carefully with her smooth hands, and laid it out on the counter, unrolling loops of fabric and spreading them out . She took out the straight edge she used to measure and cut, her shears as well, and began to find the place where the seam would be.

When she was ready, Ava took a deep breath, and leaned her weight against the fabric, holding it in place with a firm hand and the press of her forearm. The silk was soft and slippery beneath her fingers and palm, and it wanted badly to shift against the fabric of her dress. Ava shifted it ever so slightly, and then again, and settled it back into place, unwrinkled. Trust your instincts, she told herself, and began to cut.

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