A measuring tape pressed into her hand meant that the task was unavoidable. Sure, the measurements would be good to have if she needed something that fitted her right but that didn't mean that she was happy about anyone with knowledge of what the numbers meant would be able to tell her size information. It felt like something that should only be her business not someone else's. Drusilla didn't seem to notice the grimace that flickered across her features, the Symenestra still caught up in giving her information concerning this harvest thing. Perhaps she was trying to frighten the huntress by telling her something that could be out of a scary story. Red scarves showing that a male was hunting for a female, she'd remember that although she was fairly sure that...
"I think we kill male Symenestra on sight. I remember someone telling me something about it. I don't think many Inarta would get much of a chance to look for a red scarf. We'd just shoot. I think I can understand the why behind it now though," the Avora explained. Her eyes flickered from Drusilla to her drawing as she finished speaking and could see the amusement dancing in the spider's eyes although she was obviously trying to keep a straight face. The corners of her mouth were twitching, ready to curve upwards into a smile at any tick she saw. A groan escaped her at the compliments the seamstress tried to give her, trying to turn a negative into a positive. Why did the girl bother when her meaning was clear: Azira couldn't draw.
Then she had the strangest questions fired at her. She stared agape wondering if the woman was pulling some sort of joke on her. No, she seemed serious. She had to laugh. "You want me to tell you what I would look like if I was a dress? Have you been taking Warp or something, you'd have to be to come up with that I think that it was normal." The girl might laugh but it was clear that Drusilla actually wanted an answer. The teen didn't have anything to say to her though, it was too ludicrous a question for her to even consider going about answering it. One that made sense but that the huntress didn't want to reply to was offered next. She fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable about being near the other woman. The last thing she wanted to do was share.
She shared with you, her mind chimed in unhelpfully, providing her with a feeling of guilt. The seamstress had indeed shared her past and it hadn't been a pleasant one but still there were things that Azira had never told anyone. Well actually there were plenty of things that she'd never told anyone because she hadn't had anyone to tell them to before. She didn't have to tell her everything, she could just tell her some things, right.
"Um... My mother was a glassworker and one day... there was an accident. I was seven. I was there when she died." Her words came out in a whisper, unable to bring herself to voice them any louder. She looked away from the seamstress unable to meet her gaze. If she did, she was sure that she'd start crying. Words came unbidden then, tumbling out before she could censor them. She was in the past, she forgot herself. "I spent some time in the nursery but only for two seasons because I moved into the Yasi Quarter. They knew that there was something... wrong with me. They tortured me for it. Because I wasn't like them. They did terrible things to me. I was scalded with soup once. The entire bowl. No dinner, burned skin. Because I was weird and I was only interested in archery. I was apprenticed when I was eleven but it couldn't have come soon enough. I never talked to any other hunters, only Si'iara and she... she died in the Djed storm and I haven't had anyone, not since."
The girl bit her lip, eyes closing rather than allowing her gaze to remain on the floor. She hadn't meant to say so much but that still wasn't everything. She hadn't mentioned Lorthen and she wasn't going to either. It still left her feeling vulnerable, she'd always used her secrets as armour. If people didn't know that she had been a victim then she couldn't be victimised again. Drusilla had been nothing but kind but yet the young woman expected to be dealt some sort of blow, verbal rather than physical. Her eyes returned to those of the seamstress only briefly before flitting away again. "Is that enough information for you?"
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