Timestamp: 30th of Spring, 515AV
Velvet ties. Velvet wraps. Velvet shawls. Velvet…belts? Leaning over to scratch out that line item, Rosela shifted back to the potatoes, hardly seeing them in front of her. She was starting to put together her summer line, and had made it a personal goal to use up as much of her current store of velvet as she could. Not enough of it had gotten used in the winter for the Ice Masquerade, so she wanted it gone before it sat long enough to get musty.
Folding her fingers back carefully, she pushed the large knife through the potatoes with a quiet, methodical ssshunk. She was making beef stew…again…as it was one of the few things she knew how to make. Flipping the pieces of potato out, she continued slowly cutting until they were in bite-sized cubes.
What more could she do with velvet? Velvet trimming came up as an idea and she shifted back to her paper, holding the knife out away from her. Taking her pencil in another hand she quickly sketched a female figure, trying to condense her vague idea into something workable. Over the shoulders, she drew bunches of fabric in tiny, loose arcs, swinging them down low over the bodice. Her pencil stopped, having come to the end of the idea thus far, and she returned to the potatoes. She took another from the pile and began slowly chopping again, doing her best to think on the design without chopping a finger off.
Ayatah and her child were out of the house, and Rosela was relishing the silence, broken only by the low bubbling of the broth and the sound of her knife going through the potatoes. Likhren had pushed, hard, to come over during the day, but she’d shut him down without question. Her home was her fortress against the outside, she’d always said, but the position was a little hard to defend after she’d let slip that she’d taken in a tenant. In plain words, he’d reacted like a petulant child and threw an angry, yelling fit. He’d come to the shop and given her what she assumed was supposed to be an apology, but ended up being more of an explanation as to why she was entirely wrong, which then devolved into a shouting match.
All the sincerity had left him, Rosela had realized, and while the rest of Riverfall had seemed to take a breath of fresh air, Likhren had breathed in poison. Between one visit and the next, he became crude, impatient, and, worst of all, a broke gambler.
Somehow, Rosela had absolutely no inclination to see him.
”Oh, a corset…” she muttered quietly to herself, moving away from the potatoes once again, she picked up her pencil and began drawing in slightly arced vertical lines down the waist, pausing in between to make a note on colors to the side. If she was doing a thin look at the center, then the fabric below should balloon out –
THOOM
A shuddering boom echoed through the house and Rosela’s pencil skittered off in a startled, jagged line. Her unspoken question was answered immediately when a familiar voice rang out from the front door.
“Honey, I’m home!”
Velvet ties. Velvet wraps. Velvet shawls. Velvet…belts? Leaning over to scratch out that line item, Rosela shifted back to the potatoes, hardly seeing them in front of her. She was starting to put together her summer line, and had made it a personal goal to use up as much of her current store of velvet as she could. Not enough of it had gotten used in the winter for the Ice Masquerade, so she wanted it gone before it sat long enough to get musty.
Folding her fingers back carefully, she pushed the large knife through the potatoes with a quiet, methodical ssshunk. She was making beef stew…again…as it was one of the few things she knew how to make. Flipping the pieces of potato out, she continued slowly cutting until they were in bite-sized cubes.
What more could she do with velvet? Velvet trimming came up as an idea and she shifted back to her paper, holding the knife out away from her. Taking her pencil in another hand she quickly sketched a female figure, trying to condense her vague idea into something workable. Over the shoulders, she drew bunches of fabric in tiny, loose arcs, swinging them down low over the bodice. Her pencil stopped, having come to the end of the idea thus far, and she returned to the potatoes. She took another from the pile and began slowly chopping again, doing her best to think on the design without chopping a finger off.
Ayatah and her child were out of the house, and Rosela was relishing the silence, broken only by the low bubbling of the broth and the sound of her knife going through the potatoes. Likhren had pushed, hard, to come over during the day, but she’d shut him down without question. Her home was her fortress against the outside, she’d always said, but the position was a little hard to defend after she’d let slip that she’d taken in a tenant. In plain words, he’d reacted like a petulant child and threw an angry, yelling fit. He’d come to the shop and given her what she assumed was supposed to be an apology, but ended up being more of an explanation as to why she was entirely wrong, which then devolved into a shouting match.
All the sincerity had left him, Rosela had realized, and while the rest of Riverfall had seemed to take a breath of fresh air, Likhren had breathed in poison. Between one visit and the next, he became crude, impatient, and, worst of all, a broke gambler.
Somehow, Rosela had absolutely no inclination to see him.
”Oh, a corset…” she muttered quietly to herself, moving away from the potatoes once again, she picked up her pencil and began drawing in slightly arced vertical lines down the waist, pausing in between to make a note on colors to the side. If she was doing a thin look at the center, then the fabric below should balloon out –
THOOM
A shuddering boom echoed through the house and Rosela’s pencil skittered off in a startled, jagged line. Her unspoken question was answered immediately when a familiar voice rang out from the front door.
“Honey, I’m home!”
