Timestamp: 79th of Autumn 513AV
In, pull, cross, out.
Cross again.
In, pull, cross, and out.
Check the door.
Cross again.
In, pull, cross, and out.
Rosela paused to rub her forefingers together before grabbing the needle again and resume stitching.
It had been herringbone stitches all day long, hemming a seemingly endless supply of trousers. She had decided to try out a new method of sewing several items in a row, by doing an entire cache of a single item at a time, but dividing the work by the type of stitch, rather than fully completing one item at a time.
It hadn't gone well thus far; the only thing worse than doing backstitches for five bells solid was doing herringbone stitches for the remaining five, and knowing she had buttons to put in for several hours more. Even worse, the process hadn't improved her speed by much at all, so the effort was essentially wasted. Much of the day had been stormy and after a small rush around lunchtime, the shop had been dead.
Pausing to check the door once again, watching the sun move painstakingly slow down the horizon, she finally heard the glorious sound of the evening bell. She threw the trousers, a stylish black wool pair, onto the desk and trotted to the front to flip the sign. On a normal day, she'd stay late to finish the set of trousers, but her mind was frazzled and impatient. She'd already had to redo the hem of two pairs after realizing far too late that the hems were crooked.
She didn't like to linger in the front of the shop after she closed, lest she mislead someone into thinking she was actually still open, but for the moment, she paused to stretch cat-like in the back mirror. Her figure was looking good, she decided, and she was gaining back much of the plumpness she'd lost in her seasons of hard living just after arriving in the city. At some point, she'd have to return to watching her weight, as she did in Ahnatep, but she was doing well for the time being.
"Vanity is one of the great mortal flaws," the shadow under her front desk remarked, and Rosela snorted.
"I'm assuming jealousy is one of the great flaws of your kind?"
"You should hope for such high regard."
Moving briefly to the desk, she reached into the shadow and pulled out her purse and her stiletto dagger. The purse she clasped in her left, middle hand, and the stiletto was pushed into its sheath, hidden in the right side of her dress. She didn't take it home often, and the decision was usually based on whim, rather than any sense of safety.
Seeing no one outside, she lowered her stance and spread her feet, as she'd learned in her lessons at the Kendoka Sasaran. She felt powerful, carrying a weapon on her person. Not to actually use it, one of the benefits of being Kuvan was having access to the Kuvay'nas, but because she could use it, if she wanted to.
With a short breath, she whipped the dagger out, making a small thrust towards an imaginary opponent. It was low, she imagined it would be the belly. Slipping it slowly back, she made two more practice draws and thrusts before the shadow under her desk took it upon itself to comment.
"Are there are a great many knife fights on your walk home?"
"Until either one of you cares to step in on behalf of my defense, or I get a personal bodyguard, it's not out of the question to be mindful of how I may defend myself." Lifting her chin self-righteously, she turned and moved toward the door.
In, pull, cross, out.
Cross again.
In, pull, cross, and out.
Check the door.
Cross again.
In, pull, cross, and out.
Rosela paused to rub her forefingers together before grabbing the needle again and resume stitching.
It had been herringbone stitches all day long, hemming a seemingly endless supply of trousers. She had decided to try out a new method of sewing several items in a row, by doing an entire cache of a single item at a time, but dividing the work by the type of stitch, rather than fully completing one item at a time.
It hadn't gone well thus far; the only thing worse than doing backstitches for five bells solid was doing herringbone stitches for the remaining five, and knowing she had buttons to put in for several hours more. Even worse, the process hadn't improved her speed by much at all, so the effort was essentially wasted. Much of the day had been stormy and after a small rush around lunchtime, the shop had been dead.
Pausing to check the door once again, watching the sun move painstakingly slow down the horizon, she finally heard the glorious sound of the evening bell. She threw the trousers, a stylish black wool pair, onto the desk and trotted to the front to flip the sign. On a normal day, she'd stay late to finish the set of trousers, but her mind was frazzled and impatient. She'd already had to redo the hem of two pairs after realizing far too late that the hems were crooked.
She didn't like to linger in the front of the shop after she closed, lest she mislead someone into thinking she was actually still open, but for the moment, she paused to stretch cat-like in the back mirror. Her figure was looking good, she decided, and she was gaining back much of the plumpness she'd lost in her seasons of hard living just after arriving in the city. At some point, she'd have to return to watching her weight, as she did in Ahnatep, but she was doing well for the time being.
"Vanity is one of the great mortal flaws," the shadow under her front desk remarked, and Rosela snorted.
"I'm assuming jealousy is one of the great flaws of your kind?"
"You should hope for such high regard."
Moving briefly to the desk, she reached into the shadow and pulled out her purse and her stiletto dagger. The purse she clasped in her left, middle hand, and the stiletto was pushed into its sheath, hidden in the right side of her dress. She didn't take it home often, and the decision was usually based on whim, rather than any sense of safety.
Seeing no one outside, she lowered her stance and spread her feet, as she'd learned in her lessons at the Kendoka Sasaran. She felt powerful, carrying a weapon on her person. Not to actually use it, one of the benefits of being Kuvan was having access to the Kuvay'nas, but because she could use it, if she wanted to.
With a short breath, she whipped the dagger out, making a small thrust towards an imaginary opponent. It was low, she imagined it would be the belly. Slipping it slowly back, she made two more practice draws and thrusts before the shadow under her desk took it upon itself to comment.
"Are there are a great many knife fights on your walk home?"
"Until either one of you cares to step in on behalf of my defense, or I get a personal bodyguard, it's not out of the question to be mindful of how I may defend myself." Lifting her chin self-righteously, she turned and moved toward the door.
