Scarf hunting

[Vythmiirik]

{Vythmiirik's shop}

In a reasonably nice part of the town, there is a shop on a street. Actually there are many shops on the street, a cobbler, a jeweller, a carpenter, and a weaver's shop. There are many sounds and smells, people talking, going around their businesses and some haggling over sales, the smell of fresh cut wood is strong in the air; a new delivery it appears.

The weaver's shop is well cared for and kept clean, a sign of pride in a simple shop; perhaps a sign of how hard it had been earned. Blue paint adorns the walls and a welcoming sign hangs over the front "Weaver's den" it says, appearing to be a small joke amongst the crafters here; one which is taken with good humour. It's a reasonable sized shop floor you see as you enter through the door, the soft tinkling of a bell as it is rung sounds in your ears as you pass the threshold.  It's a simple shop, with a counter, a shelving unit seen behind, with many brown paper parcels in slots with tags, and a large curtain covering a doorway. In the back room the soft clacking noise of a loom is heard, along with a gentle voice "One moment please, and I'll be with you!"

A moment passes and a silver reptilian head pokes out from the back curtain, soon followed by the rest of the silver dragonborn, a rare type for her species as she has wings, the leathery skin between silver fingers is a soft blue hue; they're kept folded against her back, but occasionally move slightly for balance purposes. She possess a longer tail than most that is kept carefully in control and out of the way.  Observing her new customer as she walks out she smiles as she speaks, "Hello, how may I help you today?"

[Kara]

Kara pulled the ragged cloth tighter around her neck. Lady Talisa had given her an ultimatum: if she was going to cover her collar, it would need to be done with something suitable for a vampire's favorite. She wasn't just a ruffian anymore and her clothes ought to fit her status. So she'd started prowling shops, but what she'd found were silk or light cloth scarves, all in human sizes. If she was going to make it work, she would need to find a place that catered to non-humans and according to her research, the top-rated one was this place - Weaver's Den.

Custom work sounded promising at least.

She stepped inside, her ear twitching at the sound of the bell. It looked simpler and more bohemian than she'd expected. Lady Talisa would've taken her to an upscale tailor. Kara would've preferred a grungy shop specializing in leather. But she supposed that this would have to do. If nothing else, seeing the weaver livened her. It was rare for her to see Dragonborn, let alone winged ones in a color that made her think of the silver jewelry that some vampires preferred.

"Hi," she said simply.

Kara wasn't sure what to say next. How did one ask for summertime scarves to cover a thrall's collar? But instead, she leaned against the counter, rolling her shoulders to do her best to look casual.

"I hear that you do custom scarves. So... do you have anything like, light and airy? Like silk or those Arab things? Because fur is a real bitch in the summer as it is and well... I have full time scarf needs."

She smirked, finding her footing. It was easier to use snark to manage her way through dealings with strangers. She leaned back, as casual as if she owned the shop.

"And I can't be looking like a damn librarian, you know?"

[Vythmiirik]

Vythmiirik blinked a little at the rather obvious display and sighed; well she'd seen worse, and was also distinctly unimpressed; but resolved not to dwell on it. "Of course ma'am, I've had many customers with fur over my years who've needed fabrics for full year wear, so I'm sure I can accommodate you," she leans back through the curtain contorting to reach whilst still keeping an eye on her customer at an unnatural angle, only made possible by utilising her wings and tail for counterbalancing, to pick up a book on a counter top.  Which is just to the side of the curtain in the back room, which is very obviously a workshop of some kind.

"Will this be a custom job or are you looking for a ready made item?" she asks.  "Because if you want to know what I have in stock already" she gestures at the book. The book turns out to be a sample book with many different fabrics of different weave types some much finer than others, and others more hard-wearing, but not as soft to the touch.  Vythmirrik's skill in weaving is clearly seen, as not many in the Wayward city can produce fabrics like this. "Please have a look through, these are all the fabric types I currently have in stock.  I can make you a scarf from one of these within a hour or so; if you want a full custom job with detailing though; that will take longer" she gestures to the now open sample book on the counter, before asking as she looks through the stock list detailing what methods she used to treat the various fabrics "Are you allergic to anything?"

[Kara]

"Yeah," she said when asked about allergies. "I'm allergic as hell to non-alcoholic drinks."

Kara was surprised that the dragonborn wasn't impressed by her, but then again, she was conservatively dressed by her standards in a finely tailored leather overcoat that concealed her weapons and a bright red shirt that wasn't as low-cut as her usual. At the same time, however, she was impressed by the dragonborn's professionalism.

"Custom for sure," she said. Kara felt comfortable as she browsed, feeling almost like she was being spoiled again. She just wished that Lady Talisa was with her to pick something out, but she knew her tastes. "I want something that no nobody else is going to have. Bright colors - and black. And a few with really shiny embroidery, something to go with jewelry and definitely silk. I like silk. Maybe like..." She rubbed her finger over a swatch of thicker cloth. "Two of these in olive or brown for getting tactical or on the road. But silk, yeah. Like eight or nine of them, all different colors in really nice silk with... I don't know. Some random patterns, but I wanted a couple with three bats embroidered in gold. It's a family crest."

Her voice trailed away as she realized what custom designs would mean. First, she would need to find some way to give the dragonborn an example of the Dolingen family crest to copy. Perhaps one of the business cards for the club that her mistress had given her to hand out. She didn't think that the store owner would appreciate her taking her pants off to show her brand. But regardless, if the dragonborn needed to take measurements, she would need to show her what was under her scarf.

"Hey, stupid question, but if I do custom, do you need to measure, like, my neck or anything? Because if the answer is yes... things are going to get complicated."

[Vythmiirik]

Vythmirrik just gave Kara a flat look at the allergic to non-alcoholic drinks comment.  "Right" she didn't bother too much with it "So I can utilise any dyes and fabric treatments suitable for your species then, good to know"

"Well, when I do a custom pattern, it will be one of a kind because I hand make it; takes time, but will be utterly unique, so you wont be able to get it easily that's for sure.  Bright colours...like yellow or red or neon pink?  There's a lot that falls under 'bright colours' do you have preferences?" Vythmirrik pulled out her carbon pad from her hip pouch and opened it up fitting the carbon sheet between so the copy would work.  "So how many scarves in total do you want?" it was hardly the first time someone had gotten over excited in her shop so Vythmiirik, very flatly, dragged the rant back to somewhere she could start an invoice.

"I have enough silk thread for six scarves at the moment until the new thread spools come in, which will be next month" she paused in thought "Do you need a rush for any of these?  Or should I just give you notice when they're all completed?" after all custom weaving took time, as it was a delicate process and Vythmiiriks loom for custom works was a hand-loom, which allowed her greater creativity at the price of speed.

"Bats? Hmm I can do that; done trickier things in my time. You have an example?  Or would you be willing to draw one for me? Along with any other patterning you might like, random I can do; but I generally find a theme works best for custom works.  Like flowers, or diamonds for example" it beat sewing magic runes into fabric that's for sure. Either Vythmirrik didn't get the symbology or she didn't care, Vythmiirik's own clan markings were proudly displayed along her lower legs so who knew.

"Measurements?  Hmm I'd need a general size to work to; but I don't necessarily need to measure you if you know what size you'd like."  Vythmirrik gestured to the current sorry excuse for a scarf Kara was wearing, "If you want it that long, you can tell me how long that is and I'll work to that" she was clearly used to people who didn't like to be touched for whatever reason and wasn't bothered by it in her own blunt way.

[Kara]

Kara was taken aback by the dragonborn's quick responses. She wasn't used to these kinds of questions. When Lady Talisa told some hireling or shopkeeper to proverbially jump, they didn't ask "how high." They just started jumping until Lady Talisa was satisfied. Then again, Kara supposed, she was not her mistress. She was just another customer ordering an item.

"Right," she said. "So, uh, how about six nice ones for now? Red, gold, blue, black - bold colors, noble coat of arms type stuff. And I need one right away. After that, just send them when they're ready. But that symbol thing, I guess... uh, hell. Like this?"

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a custom-made business card. It was printed on thick, textured blue-black cardstock with shining golden lettering. On the front, cursive text with the name "Sanguine Allure" and the address in Wayward City. On the back were the three bats in flight of the Dolingen family sigil.

"This place isn't open yet by the way, but that's the design I was thinking."

She paused, drumming her claws on the countertop. Maybe it would be better to cut the knot and ask outright. Because to know what sized scarf she really needed, that would mean taking the one she had off for comparison.

"So, uh, another stupid question here: are you cool about vampires? And not 'reformed vampires' who are into praying and sucking blood out of plastic bags. I mean old school vampires, families that go back into the old days before the rift even. Families that do certain... things that some people get really judgy about. Because uh..." She paused again, looking intently into the dragonborn's eyes. "You're cool with all that, right? Because if you're not, I should probably just leave now and find somebody else."

[Vythmiirik]

Vythmiirik nodded "Six huh...so that would six silk and one asap, yeah I can do that. What one do you want first?" She started writing on her carbon pad pausing to look at the business card; night clubs huh.  Not really her sort of thing; but she didn't judge on that. "Yeah, this is a pretty easy design so I can do this pretty well, how large do you want it?  I can weave it in so it's all over if you want, or just in a corner, or front and centre?" she asked looking at the picture "Want me to post them to this address?" she tapped it on the business card. 

"Meh nightclubs aren't my sort of thing; more of a quiet cafe person myself" Vythmiirik responded with a shrug to the comment about it not being open yet.

She pauses for a moment and frowns, not particularly liking Kara in her personal space, but stubborn enough not to move; she stares back unblinking "I'm not particularly bothered by them, so long as they know what's best and respect my clan.  Guessing they're new in town, judging by this?" she waves the card around lazily before she sighs giving Kara a once over and seeing nothing wrong she shrugs.  "So long as you're happy I honestly couldn't care less.  We do have a pact in place with the locals, that the dragonborn of my clan are off limits, they do (of course) get benefits in return, but your master or mistress would need to speak with the clan council for the full details; if they are bothered by it at all; I dunno.  I'm still young enough that I'm kept out of most things."

"Any of that going to be a problem with you?" she asks turning the question back around; the back of her throat rumbling with her sub-vocals.

[Kara]

"I don't know," Kara said to the dragonborn's questions. "Just surprise me with the first one and mail the rest."

She was decidedly not surprised that the dragonborn wasn't interested in night clubs, defeating the hope that her looks could be deceiving. Then again, some of the strictest, most upright officers she'd known in Cheyenne led secret lives of kink, drugs, and hard drinking. What she wasn't sure about was whether she was relieved that a relatively uptight young dragonborn wouldn't be frequenting the club and possible causing trouble or if she was disappointed that she wouldn't get a chance to see Kara in a more familiar setting.

But that left the deeper matter of concern. And to that, Kara felt relief, smirking when the dragonborn said that she wasn't bothered by vampires and talked of clan politics. Her smirk only grew wider when the dragonborn mentioned her master or mistress. She clearly understood what Kara was and seemed at ease with it, more concerned about issues that were well and truly above Kara's station in life.

"Yeah, the Dolingen Family is new here. New business interest. And frankly, I have no idea about local politics. That's above my pay grade. So no. No problem at all."

She all but shrugged off the dragonborn's threat, grabbing a fistful of her scarf and pulling it away to reveal her collar. It was heavy, gilded with gold and engraved with ancient runes that identified her owner. She was proud of it and couldn't resist the temptation to raise her chin to give the dragonborn an unobstructed view.

"But anyway... I need however much scarf it takes to cover this up. Since well..." She grabbed the leash ring and turned the collar to show the join where the two halves had been connected permanently. "I can't take it off without chopping off my own head and I'm just sick of having to explain it to every vamp-hater and wannabe hero. Not everyone is as nice as you are."

Flattery was not Kara's strong suit, not unless she was flattering Lady Talisa, but she threw it in, hoping to win the dragonborn to her side.

[Vythmiirik]

"Okay that's fine, I'll start on the black one, I have plenty of gold thread so that will be the quickest to do.  I'm assuming you'd like it whilst you wait...well. It'll take me about an hour to weave it providing I'm not interrupted; then probably half an hour to finish it up properly.  You ok with that?" Vythmiirik asked having mused on things out-loud before. She had picked up another pad and was sketching out designs already as she spoke.

"Good, wouldn't want to put my clan in an awkward position. We're not quite as harsh as some others, but we watch each others backs." She seemed relieved by that, though she herself might not understand things; enough trickled down to the younger clan members that they knew to be wary; it was evident enough that they were quite a sheltered bunch, at least to that side of things.  Vythmiirik was also making note to let the clan elders know of the new vampire family in town.

Vythmiirik stopped her drawing and leaned over to get a better look "Huh; well it looks like some people still understand good craftsmanship, you don't want to know some of the stupid ideas I've seen; though I'm not too fond of heavy gold myself, I find it clashes with my scales too much." She pulled out her tape-measure from her side pouch "Okay I'll be quick, are you intending to wrap the scarf around the collar or just wear it over the top, I can add some more solid edging on if you'd like", she quickly and efficiently got the measurements done, careful not to touch the collar itself, she didn't want her fingerprints anywhere she couldn't keep track of them thank you very much. 

"There that's all I need." Vythmiirik returned to her carbon pad and hummed as she worked out the costs in line with the measurements she had taken "Okay here's the price for everything you asked for, are you okay with this?" she held out the carbon pad with the worked out and itemised cost, it was expensive, but not extortionately so, the materials were after all very pricey and fine.

Vythmiirik didn't look too impressed at the attempt at flattery, but took it in stride, after all she was flirted with and flattered more than she cared to think about and wasn't really one for ego boosting. "You'll find no-one in the clan will care; so long as you're happy with it all that's enough for us" there really wasn't much more she felt like adding to that.

[Kara]

Kara had never been the most patient person, but she agreed to wait. If nothing else, it would ensure that she came back with something nice to show her mistress.

She leaned in while the dragonborn examined her collar. It was her pride, a mark of both her position and how valuable she was. Most of the Dolingens’ thralls would be marked somewhere and that would be sufficient enough to show who they belonged to, but not her. She was the favorite and her collar was both a sign of her high status among thralls and a signifier to any vampire that she was a beloved pet rather than cattle.

“I suppose you could say the say about the Dolingen coven,” she said, holding still as the dragonborn measured her.

There had never been a sense of personal space in Cheyenne and there was even less of one in the bunker. Any vampire could touch her with Lady Talisa’s permission – and many did. She loved it.

“And I need to wrap it around. The problem with scarves is that the damn things fall off and the only thing worse than running around in a thrall collar is when you get caught hiding it. Humans always think that you’re up to some shit.”

She glanced down for a moment, noting the markings on the dragonborn’s legs. They reminded her almost of the one on her thigh – some kind of marking that had been placed there not for decoration but with meaning.

“You know…” said Kara, reaching into one of her pockets for the bag of golden coins and the credit drive that she carried. “You never told me your name. Because if my mistress likes it, she might send others your way. And I’m not the only collared thrall around who’s sick and goddamn tired of cattle hassling me about it.”

Kara did her best to pretend not to care about the bill – that was something that the rich weren’t supposed to do. Still, she winced at the sight of how much of her mistress’ money that she was spending.

“Speaking of which… does the marking on your legs mean anything? ‘Cause I’ll show you mine if you want to see it.”

Though there was something about what the dragonborn had said that needled her. Something that she tried to hide under her smirk and her pride in her mark and collar. Was she truly happy with it? She’d told herself yes and, at least in the coven, she’d felt it. But in this strange city where she hid herself away and had to carefully introduce herself to strangers, it was harder.

[Vythmiirik]

Vythmiirik nods "Okay sign here" she points to a line on the carbon pad saying customer signature.  "Do you need a chair to sit on whilst I work?  You can pay once I've given you the first one."

"Huh not heard of that name yet, probably weren't in the area the clan lived before they moved here" Vythmiirik commented absent-mindedly; taking careful mental notes of Kara's words to pass on to her elders. 

She nodded at that and did some mental calculations "yeah I get it, I'll add a little bit of thicker edging to it should catch on the collar lip making it hard to fall off accidentally.  Thought about adding a small broach to keep it closed tight?" she asked idly as she returned to her drawing pad, working out the best design for what is needed.

She's jolted out of her muses as she's asked her name.  "Oh?  Normally when one asks someone for their name they offer their own first.  Anyhow, Vythmiirik is my name." The aforementioned smiles slightly "I wouldn't turn away the custom, though I would hope people would have enough patience; if they all want hand woven scarves, well I wont be able to do them in a short time.  I have other customers after all, and rely on my stocks of materials."

"My leg markings?  Well yes; they're my clan markings, quite important they indicate my bloodlines and great deeds of my clan...well if you know what to look for." Vythmiirik shrugged and turned one of her legs slightly so it would be easier to see.  "Sure you can show me if you want to, up to you."

[Kara]

Kara signed where she was instructed, carefully putting down Lady Talisa’s full name and title. After all, it was her money that Kara merely held.

“I’m used to standing around and waiting,” said Kara simply. “I was a Marine – one of the President’s Own. No sitting on guard duty.”

Kara nodded at the mention of a broach, hoping that the dragonborn would choose something classy – ideally something in gold to match her mistress’ aesthetic.

“Oh… right,” Kara said. “Sorry, I’ve kinda gotten out of the habit, you know. My name is Kara Mackinaw. As I imagine you’ve already figured out, I’m Lady Talisa Dolingen’s thrall – her personal thrall.”

At the suggestion of comparing their leg makings, she undid the gold plate buckle of her belt and then stopped. To show off her markings, she would have to reveal far, far more than was proper in a public place. Even Kara, flaunting as she was, realized her limitations and refixed her buckle.

“Never mind. It would probably look bad if one of your customers came in to find me with my pants down.” She smirked. “Besides, mine just says what family owns me. Yours look like they got something more to say.” She studied them for a moment but was unsure how to even go about reading them. “You a noble by any chance? Because there’s like a thousand and one customs and courtesies that I’m supposed to be following if you are and trust me, the Dolingen Family takes that shit very seriously.”

She supposed that she’d have to tell Lady Talisa later and take whatever punishment her mistress felt fitting.

“I’m still new to all this,” she added, genuinely apologetic.

[Vythmiirik]

Once it was signed Vythmiirik tore it off and put the main copy in her register and the other she handed over to Kara "Here you go, I itemised your receipt so your mistress knows what you spent and how much individual parts cost". 

She shrugged as Kara explained she was used to standing around "Fair enough" she didn't even seem bothered by the reveal regarding the president.  Perhaps because as she is a dragonborn she cares less about what humans do to cling onto power, not like he ever had any power over her family after all. Vythmiirik picked up a box and looked through it for a moment, before picking up a small jewellery box and placing on the table. "I don't have anything overly fancy, but you can check these see if any of these broaches match your mistresses tastes, if not one of my cousins is a jewel-smith so I can direct you there"  inside the box were many simple, but elegant broaches and pins, probably meant as a placeholder so the customer can choose one better to their liking later.

Vythmiirik shrugged "It happens, you're in a new place and no-one knows you" she pauses for a moment "Yeah, I figured it would be something like that; well nice to meet you Kara" she performed a formal greeting; wings and tail artistically fanning out behind her to take on a rather graceful looking bow.

She does raise an eye-ridge at Kara's buckle fumbling, "Yeah probably for the best, didn't realise it'd be somewhere around there; most I see are normally on the upper hip or something".  Vythmiirik blinks at the question before chuckling softly holding her hands up to refute it gently "No, no; we don't really have nobles in our clan.  I am of a higher status than most, but not to the level of nobility.  I was born with wings and those are very, very rare so it's seen as something of a sign" she flicks them out so they can be seen a little better.

"Well it's fine.  I'm not mad, but I'm going to get started on your first scarf.  Feel free to continue to chat though I'll be able to hear you over my loom." Vythmiirik pulls the curtain back and loops a cord around it so she can see and hear before heading in to set up the loom to produce the smaller pattern of a scarf.  She sets up the silk and golden thread spools to make a star field pattern in the silk so it could shimmer as it's owner moved.  She planned to put the sigil on the end so it could be hug decoratively in front.   All woven as one piece of fabric so there wouldn't be any need of worry about the sigil disappearing due to falling off or tearing out.

[Kara]

Kara took the itemized receipt and put it in one of the many pockets of her leather jacket. It was funny to think about how little had changed. The Cheyenne government would always demand receipts too, wanting to know what she’d spent even last fragment of silver or credit on. Lady Talisa had made things clear to her: she wouldn’t demand full accounting of every penny, but if money started disappearing en masse, Kara wouldn’t be receiving anything.

She’d began to look at the broches, smirking when Vythmiirik said that it was nice to meet her. But her flourish caught her off-guard. It was clearly ritualized, something as practiced as how to perform drill and ceremony for the president. She was taken aback, putting down the jewelry box. Her tail twitched slowly behind her.

“Ohhh…” she said. “Damn it, there’s this whole deal about ‘nobility by courtesy’ for things like that. Like some real ‘get out the tape and measure you steps within an inch’ stuff.”

She struggled to remember exactly what it was. She’d kneel for all the trueborn Dolingen vampires, kneel and bow her head for the leaders of the family, but her mistress always got the deepest, most submissive kneel of all. For a non-human noble by courtesy from one of the “better” races…

She lowered her head, closed her eyes, and gave a half-bow as she’d been taught to salute a low-ranking noble vampire, holding it and counting five seconds before standing back up.

Close enough, she supposed.

“I’ll let you get to it then, uh…” She was almost certain that a dragonborn had no right to be called “mistress,” especially not by a favorite. “Yeah, I’ll leave you alone, Vythmiirik.”

She studied Vythmiirik’s wings and leg markings as she left. It was a strange thing now. She was now part of a world more akin to the one of dragonborn – something ritualized and arcane from the other side of the rift. Vythmiirik hadn’t expressed much surprise about her life as a thrall or even the notion that she’d had a brand applied to her fur to mark her as such.

It was… curiously relaxing. Maybe her time on the road had taught her all the wrong lessons. It was humans who were the problem – humans and others pretending to be human. Here, she could be herself. Here, she was just another rift-sider following ancient traditions, not some strange in-between thing fooling around with half-kinky things that she only dimly understood.

“You know,” she said loud enough to be heard over the looms. “If this cousin of yours makes stuff as pretty as you do, I imagine he’s gonna see a whole lot of us! My mistress loves the shiny stuff!” She sighed, picking up a broach that looked like the heaviest and most expensive of the bunch. “Hell, you and me might be seeing more of each other too. Mistress really, really likes cloaks – the darker and fancier, the better. Makes her all mysterious and she can dramatically toss it off too.”

And, Kara noted to herself, Lady Talisa was prone to getting cold, even more so than most vampires. Her role as a “bedwarmer” was often a literal one.

[Vythmiirik]

"Huh, normally that sort of thing is only done during formal ceremonies.  It's pretty much considered superfluous when shopping or the like otherwise you'd be doing things like that more time than you'd be actually shopping."  Vythmiirk spoke allowing for the bow with all the appropriate decorum.  She wasn't bothered by the use of her name, it was not after all the informal shortened version of it and therefore kept it's full meaning in the draconic tongue.

The soft clacking sounds started as Vythmiirik started to weave, her fingers quick and dexterous as the danced over the weft, claws used to delicately pluck the loose parts clean as she worked.  Her eyes watches sharply as she did so and not a thread was found out of place.  As it was she didn't pay to much attention to the werewolf's actions unless her attention was drawn, mostly absorbed into her work.

"I'm sure Kethend will be pleased; he's always happy for new challenges, and his work is crazily detailed.  Oh, his sister blows glass if you ever fancy anything of that like too, real delicate stuff; truly I think Kepesk's the best in town."  Vythmiirik would always sing her families praises when she could, they were clearly a close nit bunch, probably raised as a group. 

"Oh cloaks?  I've made a few of those over the years.  To be honest I'm not as good a tailor as I am a weaver; it's why my stuff is so expensive because I weave it whole, no seams to be found.  Not that I'm bad at it mind you; but I've always found weaving to be the bigger challenge." Vythmiirik made her voice loud enough to be heard as well, but as Kara could note; she did not loose a single step in her weaving her focus staying on it at all times.  As she spoke and time passed, a part of the fabric emerged, a small part mind you, but enough that could be seen. The gold and black fabric was coming along nicely, it seemed almost like it was a liquid seeping out of a pool on a wooden frame; shimmering when the light hit it like ripples on water.  It would take time before it was completed, but it looked a good start.

[Kara]

Kara supposed that every act in the coven was a formal ceremony to some extent, something that she recognized from honor guard duty. Still, she noted that Vythmiirk that thrown in the first flourish when she’d introduced herself.

In a strange sort of way, she’d come to the point where following the ritual was easier and more comfortable than not.

Truth be told, the hard part was properly pronouncing the dragonborn’s name, one clearly not intended for her kind of tongue. She was struggling with it and reasonably certain that she was mangling it. At least to her ears, it sounded like some kind of noble name, certainly one from the other side of the rift.

“I didn’t think I was a challenge,” said Kara, smirking even if Vythmiirk wouldn’t be around to see it. “Unless he doesn’t have enough golden chains!”

Though she could see Lady Dolingen appreciating it and glasswork… or maybe not. Kara understood nothing about fashion, only what looked pretty or was edgy enough to suit her. A life of uniforms hadn’t given her much idea of how to dress “properly.”

“Got it!” Kara shouted. “Not a tailor then. Yanno, I got to get a lot of my stuff tailor-made, the nice clothes especially. Real pain in the ass being this big. But I guess I don’t have to dress around wings, huh?”

As seconds passed, she was starting to get curious about what exactly Vythmiirk was making. If nothing else, she dropped the small talk in the hopes of not distracting her or otherwise slowing her down. But still, she was getting impatient.

The realization came upon her that if she liked the scarfs, maybe she wouldn’t feel so ashamed about hiding her collar. Maybe she could even lend them to her mistress on occasion, something that they could share between them as they did with Lady Dolingen’s jewelry. Kara had nothing that she could truly share like that.

Slowly, she started to move closer, peering towards the loom in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the fabric being made.

[Vythmiirik]

Vythmiirik had long ago decided not to be too fussed if people couldn't pronounce her name properly; but she did appreciate it when people tried.  So she wasn't mad as Kara didn't quite get the correct intonation, but it was close enough that the meaning of her name was at least clear.

Ritualistic greetings were quite common when dealing with outsiders who followed the older pathways, so Vythmiirik had been raised to know all the steps and movements for if they were ever needed.  Though they rarely were, most people just dealt with minimalistic means these days.

Vythmiirik had laughed a little at that, "Unfortunately he does have limited stock for many things; we're not exactly in one of the huge and 'fancy' cities, so we're limited in what we have; but he does do wonders with it"

Nodding along to the point, Vythmiirik adds. "Yeah, wings are a bit awkward to get around, but I've not really known anything else; so I learnt to manage from a young age." She tilts her head slightly "Besides, one of my Uncles is handy with sewing, so it works out for us"

When Kara gets closer to try to get a better look, Vythmiirik doesn't react until she gets to a certain point, crossing her workroom's threshold; then her tail twitched quickly to the side, wings half unfurl as her senses picked up on Kara moving closer. "If you want to watch, you should ask" she reprimands gently; despite this she keeps working, there's now a visible length of cloth made, but it's not long enough yet to be a functional scarf as it hasn't been quite long enough but as time passes more and more of it is revealed; gently shimmering from the looms movements.

[Kara]

Kara frowned at the mention of “limited stock.” A shame, she supposed. She’d never been to a city as large as Wayward City but she’d certainly heard about them and studied them – or at least studied how to fight in them. Still, she’d hoped that there would be unlimited possibilities. Clearly, like everywhere else, that wasn’t so simple.

Still, she was curious and crossed the unmarked line from the shop to the workspace, wondering just what fabrics Vythmiirik had back there.

Vythmiirik’s reprimand, mild as it was, stung her like a whip. She stopped suddenly, coming quickly to attention, the boots on her digitigrade feet clicking together. Her rection to authority was instinctive, taught to her by training and then deeply reinforced when she became a thrall. She knew a voice of command when she heard one.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said firmly, almost mechanically. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Carefully, she took two steps back and halted, awaiting instructions. Her heart was pounding, as if she expected some punishment. Only a second later did she realize how absurd that was. Even if it wasn’t her money, she was a customer here. Why was she behaving like she was in service?

Her ears reddened, something barely visible under her fur. She hoped that Vythmiirik hadn’t noticed. Instead, she slouched back into her lazy posture, leaning on the wall.

“Well, I mean… can I watch? I’ve never really made anything like this, nothing all artsy. In my school, we learned how to field strip M89A1s while the other kids were fingerpainting and scribbling shit.”

She smirked, but something about the thought dug into her thoughts like shrapnel. There were so many simple things that remained mysteries to her.

[Vythmiirik]

Vythmiirik had turned her head slightly and therefore seen using her peripherals what had occurred but was polite enough to pretend not to; her wings relaxed against her back once more and her tail returned to it's casual coiled position. She forced herself to calm down and slowed her work a small fraction, as she turned her head to actually look for a moment then lifting one hand pointed at a section in her work area that was out of the way of her loom; but still in a spot that her working could be seen...but most importantly was somewhere that Vythmiirik would also be able to see. "You can watch from there if you want, you'll get a better view than inside the doorway" she pauses before adding in an almost casual tone "Also I wont be quite as jumpy, instinctive responses are something I'm sure you understand well."  It was a subtle attempt at being calming and saying she understood, without actually bringing attention to anything verbally.

She returned to working at her normal speed as she listened before nodding and explaining "My father went through something similar when he was young; he's pretty normal for a gold dragonborn.  So during the exodus he had to fight for resources growing up, only the strongest really survived during those days, so he always made sure I understood how fortunate living in this city is for us.  What I mean to say is don't worry about it.  Some of my relatives had it really bad, I've seen how it affects them; so I wont judge."  She shrugged slightly at that, her eyes never left her work as she did so.  Vythmiirik basically focused on her loom as she spoke; it seemed she didn't like to think about what her family had gone through, and how little she could understand of it.

"Anyhow...what do you think so far?"  A sizeable piece of fabric has now been produced, thousands of tiny golden flecks appearing trapped within a shimmering black sea, though she has still some way to go before it's finished but, it's clearly taking shape. The sigil she will weave last.

[Kara]

Kara was surprised by how visibly tense Vythmiirik had been… not that she was particularly relaxed either. But she was thankful not to have a discussion about it. Maybe the dragonborn wasn’t in the mood to hash it out. Or maybe it didn’t surprise a rift-sider that a thrall would snap to attention at even the gentlest command.

In truth, she was shocked of all that a non-vampire could have that effect on her.

“Sure, sure,” she said, going to where Vythmiirik pointed and standing at ease, a sort of semi-formal, military pose. “And you’re right. Some vets I know, you sneak up on them like that and they start shooting.”

She smirked, realizing that she was coming dangerously close to yet another uncomfortable conversation. Since leaving the safety of the coven and being reminded of the “real world,” Lady Talisa had already asked her why she carried a gun around every step of the way – that it reminded her of a small child with a teddy bear.

“I wasn’t worried about it,” she said. “Truth be told, when I was a kid, I was proud of it. Not being one of the pampered little senators. Granted, I’m bitter as hell now. See, it wasn’t just school. It was everything. This one day, I’m standing at parade rest in full exo-flak for four hours, thinking about how I’m going to be up all night polishing my armor plates again, while a room full of these assholes are eating aquarium-grown lobster and bitching about too much lemon in their butter and…”

She stopped herself. Things had changed. Even if she was a servant now, she was enjoying those kinds of spoils. In fact, she was looking at one of them.

Kara didn’t leave the spot where she was told to stand, merely leaning forward to look.

“It’s pretty,” she said, biting her lip. “Really, really pretty…” She paused for a moment, fretting about how she’d been acting, intentionally trying to rile up Vythmiirik with the kinds of stories that she told in bars just to get a reaction. “I’m sorry. You’re making me something pretty and I’m bitching about things that are done and over. What your people went through, they probably would've killed just to stand guard in a climate-controlled room with a full belly.”