“You are the innkeeper?! I can’t believe we hadn’t met until now! You’re a bit of a recluse, aren’t you?”
The innkeeper had not given her a name, but Naadiya had overheard the name ‘Tazrae’ and knowing the dark-haired newcomer to be Shiress, she deduced that the other was Tazrae. As she was thinking of this, the weight of blonde’s words sunk in.
“Oh… we forget you? How odd, your curse seems to be as much on you as on everyone else. I hope this is not insensitive to ask, but do you have children?”
Naadiya had definitely heard the scampering of a child on the wooden floors of the inn. Without true windows, it was hard to keep sounds entirely muffled if everyone was inside. She could not imagine who would have it worse, a child who would forget everything about their mother everyday, or a mother who’s child would always forget her.
She confessed to not having brought a cup, but accepted the one offered gladly and took a hefty sip, silently thankful that she was not forgotten by all on a regular basis… But also wishing some people could have forgotten certain things about her… Thinking of what she wished could have been forgotten, she took another gulp, this one she barely tasted as it raced down her throat.
“That’s right…. I am the man…. It comes and goes. I don’t really know what triggers it, it’s all very inconvenient. I’ve torn the seams of two dresses trying to take them off, once in male form. The one thing I have noticed, is the pain that comes right before. It’s like the cross between a cramp and the world’s worst gas, but nothing comes out, and when it stops I’m a man. Meanwhile, I don’t think I’ve felt anything when turning back into a woman.”
Naadiya was nodding to Tazrae, when Shiress’ question surprised her.
“Weaving is the creation of fabric from yarn. Well one way of doing it anyway. Probably the fastest, compared to knitting, or crocheting if you want large pieces of fabric, or if you need something sturdy. A loom the apparatus I use to take those yarns and interlace them in such a way to make a variety of different ‘weaves’.”
Gladly, she accepted the mandolin from Tazrae. Though she had no training with it, the two shared a natural affinity for song.
With a strum of her neatly manicured fingers on two of the mandolin’s strings Naadiya made a simple beat as she sang in a lilting tone. Her voice was unfiltered honey. Sweet, and thick with the occasional bit of grit from lack of formal training.
“Though I am not a man,
Grow a beard I can.
It comes, it goes
But nobody knows
How, or when,
Will it happen it again?
Prooobaablyy,
Confused by my own biology.
Always hide inside despondently.
But I don’t want to be,
This anomaly.
Seeeriouslyyy.
Gods, please help me.”
She broke off the improvised blurb of a song laughing.
“I think you may have spilled your wine! Why did you ask that? Do I look like a man? I’m not being argumentative, really, I’m honestly asking. Since this surprise penis thing has started, I’ve been growing facial hair unlike every before and sometimes I forget to shave my face or miss a spot.”
Reaching up with the hand that did not hold the instrument, she rubbed the lower half of her face, feeling for any thick beard hairs gone rogue. The same hand darted back to the food and she grabbed a grape and tiny chunk of cheese and popped both in her mouth at once. They were well enough that after a bite of two she was already considering reaching for more and with the third bite she gave in and grabbed a piece of bread.
“If anyone wants to take the lead with the music, please feel free, I’m just winging this.”
She was playing with the strings, testing out the sound each made and seeing how high, and how low the instrument could go. Picking up the same two string beat she had started earlier, Naadiya added a third, a light contrast to the deeper pitches of the other pair.
Low, low, high. Low, low, high.
Sometimes inspiration hit her, but she wasn’t exactly a songstress, so Naadiya hummed gently just to accompany the sound of the strings.
Turning to Shiress, she asked “Wait, so I’m the man, and everyone forgets Tazrae, but did you get stuck with one of these curses or have you escaped whatever net we got caught in?”
Having arrived a little late to the party, she had missed several gaps in the conversation.
Another sip of wine and an accompanying grape? Yes please, I think I will. Naadiya found it intriguing to think she was eating two stages of the same fruit. Somehow, it felt less odd than the initial realization of how many dishes involve both chicken and egg in their preparations.
She handed the mandolin over to Shiress encouragingly.
“Come on, they say we all have at least one good song inside waiting to come out. You don’t have to be any good, we promise not to laugh… much! Besides, with everything that has been going on, I’m not sure you will have the chance to this coming Tenday.”
She shook her shoulders in a shimmy, showing Shiress she may need to loosen up her upper back.
“If you’d rather not play, just sing and we will fill in the background to your song with mandolin and our voices.”
A low humming started in the back of Naadiya’s as she tried to invite a song out of the emerald eyed woman. Adding a little variation to her hummed melody, Naadiya tapped Tazrae’s leg, beckoning her to join the makeshift a-cappella music session.
Without the mandolin in her hands, Naadiya took another bit of fruit then rifled through her small bag, pulling out her embroidery supplies. Still unfinished, a linen top was set up with the embroidery hoop securing a section of the neckline in place. There was a needled threaded with a length of blue thread.
She had started to add small flowers in shades of blue to the top and the accompanying skirt that had been bought with it. So far she had sprinkled the right side of the otherwise un-dyed linen with blues from the center up to one of the straps and was now focusing on the left side.
Sharpened needle firm in hand, she plunged it into the fabric. The needle was shorter than some of her sewing needles, very narrow but with a tip that was designed to slide into the weave, not puncture it, like you would with a leather, for example. This kept the fabric from beginning to fray and tear from her additions.
It had taken her a minute to situate herself in a way that was comfortable enough that she could work her hoop and maintain her attention on the beachside conversation. Her back was somewhat supported by a combination of sand being piled up and shaped underneath the woolen mantle, the fabric itself, and a natural incline in the beach as she turned herself to be facing the water. Leaning back onto her ‘support’, Naadiya hiked up the skirt of her dress to be able to hold the hoop between her knees.
Her right hand pushed the needle in, and the left pulled it through to the other side. When she pulled with the left, she guided the thread with the right, making sure it would not tangle.
She’d continue to croon softly, offering an added instrument to the melody. The music did not hinder conversation, and though her hands worked methodically with the needle and thread, Naadiya was already starting to feel the wine.
Randomly she asked, “This is pretty decent wine, we have good grapes…We have great fruits here don’t we…” Her tone was a little far-away almost as though she was thinking out loud. “A huge variety really… and in large amounts already without the benefit of positive intervention from us… Does Stu bottle and export wines and other liquors?”
Naadiya couldn’t be sure if what she drank was of Stu’s making, or if the innkeeper had brewed it herself, or even if she’d bought somewhere, but she did know that Stu was generally the go-to for all things brewed. Talented he most certainly was. Charismatic as well. Always willing to impart his knowledge on others, too, but enterprising?
Starfruit-lime rum. Blood orange-ginger beer. Açai and cardamom wines. Cocoa or coffee liquors!Never had she tried her hand at brewing and was really only picking flavors she guessed might blend from what she’d tasted since coming here, but Naadiya could close her eyes and picture it all.
Between her knees, blue was starting to spread across the greige fabric, and she adjusted the placement of the hoop. When she rethreaded her needled, Naadiya grabbed a pale yellow instead of the tones of blue already scattered over the chemise’s upper half. With the buttery thread, she went inside each of the little flowers and made a tiny a tiny cross, then an X over it with slightly shorter limbs and tied off the thread on the inside of the garment. This moved much faster than the flowers which were already of a simple design. As the women spoke, tiny yellow bursts filled the little blue petals.
Ready for a tiny break, Naadiya slipped the needle into the fabric and back out so that it lay held in the weave. She sipped the wine and sighed, her mind was drifting back to sell Stu’s concoctions bottled, barreled or jarred. Of course… She’d also have to convince the man as he’d be doing the actual brewing.
Sip.
What would it take to make him go for it?Recently, Naadiya had overheard Dawn talking to her husband about The Outpost, was immediately interested, perking her ears up for details. She planned to go herself in the near future, in the hopes of establishing a trade partner who would sell her textiles. She had yet to work out the details, but it was something to think about anyway.
Sip.
If this place had such a variety of goods being traded at the same time, why shouldn’t they have some kind of booze merchant eager to get his hands on something unique and rare to come by where ever he hails from?“I know Shiress is new to the settlement, but Tazrae, how well do you know Stu?”
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