The Way I Work My Weave Pt II 53 of Winter 521 AV While Naadiya was getting used to waking up to find that Artik had already left, it was always a pleasant surprise to find him still there come sunup. He made soft grunts in his sleep that she could hardly consider full snores but they did have their own comical effect. Grunt, grunt, wheeze. Mumble mumble, grunt. Naadiya pushed herself up on her elbows and looked at the sleeping Svefra, wondering what he was dreaming about. Despite his sleepy speech, he seemed calm enough. Not a nightmare, then, she thought, running a hand through his hair softly enough to not pull it. Lucky boy. After one round too many the previous night, the two had come back to the inn. Artik began dozing off while seated on the bed, and Naadiya had kept him from laying back by propping him up with her bent knee as she braided his hair. First, she did one on either side of his head, behind his ears, then one at the very center of his hairline, and once she realized how enjoyable it was to not only weave his hair into plaits, but also to imagine his reaction when he became full conscious, Naadiya did the rest of his head. He would soon wake to find several braids springing out from a point atop his head where she’d tied them all together. He looked like a toddler, a palm tree, and a pirate had all fuzed together to magically create one large drunken mess. Lifting the arm that lay across her stomach, Naadiya slid out from under him and stepped off the bed. Artik rolled over almost immediately and resumed his soft snoring. Moving quietly, so as to not wake the man, Naadiya took the leather bound journal on the nightstand and something to write with along with a sharpening knife and when to open the shutters. Though the wind felt refreshing, it was wasn’t cold and didn’t bother Artik in his dreams of sailing over waves of coconut rum. Naadiya swung one leg over the window’s rail and then the other, and just like that she was out in the deck. Settling into a chair with her journal, Naadiya closed her eyes and tried to picture the design she would want to do in her forthcoming fabrics. Dawn had seemed to like the color combinations she’d been churning out and Naadiya wanted to make some place mats. They were relatively fast to weave due to their size and while locally they would have some novelty appeal, these small crafted luxuries often reached good prices far away where their style would not be so commonly found. Syka was likely one of the few places in Mizahar that would be able to produce Benshira designs in Isuas fabric, if not the only. There had to be a market for that, however niche it may be. Surely there were Benshira or at least the borderline offensive ‘Benshira-culture-enthusiasts’ with heavy pockets wanting to add to their collections in Riverfall. Ugh, she groaned inwardly, but if it takes some quasi-noble with a desert fetish in a faraway land to finance my climb back out of poverty, let them buy as many camel themed pillow cases as they can afford. And praise Syna, let them tell their likeminded wealthy friends. With her knife she whittled off a few shavings of wood until her point was fine enough then started making plans. She turned her journal so that the longer side of the pages was horizontal and sketched the loose shapes of mountains layered over each other, a sun in the sky and waves at the bottom. Then, she made little lines equally space across the top and made a note to know the space between each line would hold 5 warp yarns. Once she had drawn the lines going down the shorter side of the page as well, she looked over her design and began to estimate how the sizes of the shapes in her design would actually translate into passes with a shuttle, and amounts of warp threads caught or skipped, then adjusted her design to better fit realities limits.
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