Closed Pins and Needles (Piraen)

[Anona]

Spring 31st, 514 AV

Anona clutched his coinpurse tightly in his fist as he peered inside the small shop window. There was nothing in the window as a display, like some of the pricier shops, save for a small wooden sign with the word "FABRICS" painted in blue. It didn't seem too special, but James had assured him that he would trust them with his fabrics over anyone else in Ravok. In truth, Anona wasn't sure how much competition a fabric shop would have in such an isolated city, but James's recommendation was enough to brush away any doubts floating around in his head.

He pushed the door open gently, and as he did so a small bell above him chimed cheerily. The shop was as small as it appeared from the outside, small and cramped and practically empty; there was a countertop along one side of the room, starting beside the door and running the length of the room until it ran into the opposite wall. The counter divided the shop into two sections, with each section being about as wide as the counter itself; the side of the room that Anona wasn't standing in extended into a hallway that left the room and his line of sight. If it weren't for the sign in the door, and James's directions clear in his mind, he never would have thought there was anything to be bought here, as there were no fabrics (or, in fact, anything at all) to be found in the room.

After a moment of silence, a woman appeared from the hallway. She was quite petite, easily a head shorter than Anona, and smiled widely at him.

"Hello there!" She walked until she was standing across the countertop from him and leaned on it, supporting herself on her forearms. "You interested in some fabrics, pretty lady?" The girl's eyes darted up and down his body quickly, in a way that seemed like a light, playful imitation of the way James would often look at him. He blushed all the same.

"Y-yes." He cleared his throat, blushing harder at his humiliating stutter. "Yes. I'm looking to have a new dress made for myself, and I want to buy the fabric myself."

The girl nodded at him, her lips still pulled up in a smile. "That's the only way to do it. No offense to dressmakers-- my father's one, and all!-- but if they have to get your fabrics you can bet your voice that they'll charge you double what it cost them to get it. What sorta fabric are you looking for?"

His mind blanked. He'd known this question was coming. Surely he did. How could he have not thought to predetermine what sort of fabric he'd need?

"Linen? Do you have linen?" Surely they would. Linen couldn't be that uncommon... could it?

The woman pursed her lips, but nodded. "That we do. We just had a big order of it, though-- one of the Larks, I think it was. So we've only got the one color left. Think blue will suit you?"

"Blue will be just fine," he said with relief.

"Wonderful!" Her grin returned in full force. "How much?"

"Ah." He hadn't the slightest idea how fabric was sold. He couldn't need that much for one dress. "I'll take... one?"

He flinched when she burst into laughter, quick and bright.

"That's cute. Alright, pretty lady, I'll just get you eight square yards. That should be plenty." Without so much as waiting for a response or an agreement, she disappeared into the back of the shop, returning again a short while later. In her hands she held what looked like a significant amount of fabric the color of the sky wrapped around some sort of tube. It was held together at both end by golden thread. She dropped the roll of linen on the counter unceremoniously. "Now, that'll be fifty silvers, beautiful."

Anona clenched his jaw and dug a single gold-rimmed miza from his coinpurse and dropped it onto the countertop. He grabbed his purchase while he waited for her to count his change from somewhere under the counter, struggling to find a comfortable way to carry the roll. The girl winked at him as she dropped the money in his hand, running her fingers over his for far longer than he would have hoped. He tucked his coins away and ducked out of the shop quickly. He thought he heard her laugh just as he left, but that very well could have been the bell chiming mockingly above the door once again.

He felt disoriented. The entire encounter couldn't possibly have lasted more than a few chimes, but he felt shaky and exhausted, which he only usually felt when he'd been around people for bells at a time. Perhaps the girl's forwardness had shaken him. He sighed and let his head fall back for a moment. The sky was cloudy, and a dull, gray-blue, just as it had been the day before. Perhaps they would get some rain yet again.

ledgerdocked 50 silver mizas from Anona's ledger for the exceptionally overpriced linen

[Piraen Saneka]

"No." Piraen loosely reclined in a Ravasola, allowing his obsidian eyes to lay on the sky above. "Just so much....no." The man shook his head in distaste. He had thought that living in a city protected by a God would have kept a lid on all the weather. As it turns out, it didn't. In fact, not only did it not keep out the wrinkle-producing, fabric-ruining, hair-tousling rain, but it also failed to protect the residents from a giant fish "monster." Pi rolled his eyes. From worrying about being enslaved to worrying about being eaten by one of his favorite snacks...the fun in Ravok just never seemed to end.

"Here will be fine." Nodding to the left footpath, Piraen stood. He readjusted the white shirt beneath his vest so that it was once again flush against his body. Pi hadn't bothered finding a scarf or jacket to pair with the outfit. After all, he was only making a delivery, and this particular client wasn't quite worth ruining a scarf over.

"No need to wait, I'll be a while." Pi leapt onto the footpath, sending groans and creaks throughout the walkway. A shiver crept up Pi's back; he briefly imagined the boards cracking from under him and dropping him straight into the mouth of a waiting fish-creature. After all the fish he had eaten, Pi could vividly picture the slimy insides of the monster as it swallowed him whole. He flinched, realizing that that might have been the exact same thought of his dinner last night. Pi tried his best to dismiss the morbid thoughts and focus on the task at hand, but the beady eyes of the lake monster were staring a hole through his mind. It was like the ghost of dinners passed. I'm going on a fish-free diet. I swear. Lies. But it helped ease his mind for the moment.

After giving up the proper payment to his driver, the man quickly disembarked. He had no intentions of getting caught in the rain, so he wanted to find his client as fast as possible. His steps were confident, though his mind was less sure. This client was a bit shady, and Pi didn't appreciate having to bring one measly pair of pants out to a foreign part of the city. As he neared the customers home--a cramped-looking building with a "Fabrics" sign hanging in the window--Pi breathed a sigh of relief. Half the job was done. Now all that was standing between him and a peaceful (and dry) day of relaxation was this man's coin.

Reaching the door, Piraen found a small note addressed to him. As he read it, his brow furrowed.

Dear Mr. Saneka,

I regret to inform you that I will no longer be needing your services. As it turns out, my wife had said she was leaving me chow, not that she was leaving me now. In any event, she will be making my clothes once more.

Apologies,
Sinderon

Piraen groaned, smacking the letter against his face. I hate wives. Husbands. People. Everything. What was he to do with the pants now? This client had an abnormally small waistline, and there would be no chance Piraen could every wear these trousers (not to mention the fact that they were, despite the beautiful craftsmanship, the ugliest looking pair of pants in existence). Another long groan drew out from the kelvic's lips.

Just as Pi decided to use the pants as a sacrifice to the fish-monster (one could never be too careful), a thin woman came swooping out of the door near him. Piraen's eyes skipped directly to her hips, quickly assessing whether or not they'd fit into these useless pants. After a few ticks, his analysis was completed. Satisfied with this adoptive mother, Pi pushed forward.

"Miss?" Nearing the young lady, Piraen jumped straight to the point. He still had some down-time to attend to back at his apartment. "Could I interest you in some extraordinarily ugly pants? They're free!"

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[Anona]

Anona had barely gotten his bearings when he was accosted once more, this time by a well-dressed man.

"Miss?" Anona jerked in surprise and turned to face him fully, clutching the roll of fabric awkwardly to his chest. "Could I interest you in some extraordinarily ugly pants? They're free!" Anona's brow furrowed slightly and he realized that the man was holding folded up cloth-- the aforementioned pants, he guessed-- in his hands. He couldn't see much about them, aside from their general color, and while he privately admitted that the color of vomit was not one that he would voluntarily wear if he had the choice, that seemed to be the pants' only flaw.

Perhaps the man was playing a prank, or maybe he was planning to steal the fabric he'd just bought when he loosed his grip to take the pants. He dug his fingers more tightly into the layers of blue linen. Perhaps the man was going to push him into the canal afterwards, to be eaten by the beast that dwelled in the depths below.

Why can't I go one day in peace and quiet?

In truth, he could use any extra garments he could get. His only good pair of pants had been soaked over a fortnight previous, and James had kept him so busy that he now feared he might never rid his small apartment of the smell of mildew.

But, here he was known. Even if this strange new man had no way of getting information back to James, the woman in the store behind him certainly knew, and he couldn't be seen taking handouts like some penniless beggar.

"I'm afraid I'm not in need of any pants, ugliness notwithstanding," he lied with a half-hearted smile. An idea crept into his mind and he spoke it before he could think to hold himself back. "I don't suppose you're a seamstress-- er, seamster," he corrected himself with no small amount of embarrassment. He wasn't even entirely certain that 'seamster' was a word at all. "Are you a tailor, I mean to say?"

[Piraen Saneka]

Observation was a key part of Pi's fight-or-flight system. As such, when the woman turned around Piraen took a tick to look at her thoroughly; he wanted to make sure he had a decent threat assessment before he got any closer. One could never be too careful, especially when you were a kelvic in Ravok.

The more he looked at her, the more Pi thought she resembled a child. He wasn't quite sure what gave him the idea. Perhaps it was the way she clung the fabric to her chest, or how she looked at him like he was some sort of foreign creature. Either way, he couldn't shake the association and it made him uneasy. He felt as though he needed to lower his voice, dull his personality, pull back his outstretched arm (which, at this thought, he did)...do something to placate the woman.

As she responded, though, Piraen couldn't help but show his disgust. He tossed his head back and groaned in mock anguish. "Shyke. Now I'm stuck with these." His current situation reminded Pi of that old saying: "If you love something, let it relentlessly beat you down and tire you out until you resort to meeting shady clients in a weird neighborhood with the potential of getting eaten by a giant fish-monster." I should've been a farmer. Pi mentally rolled his eyes. At least then he wouldn't have to worry about shop-searching or buying excess yardage for useless projects or finding owners for ugly garments.

Returning his gaze to his company, Pi shrugged. In all honesty, he didn't even know what to call himself. Could he really accept the title of "tailor" when he had no shop and made fashion house calls? If not, how does one sum that up into a one or two word job description?

"Seamster," Piraen chuckled; he had never heard it put that way before. Though, the more he turned the word over in his mouth, the more it sounded appropriate. "I like that. But, yes, that is what I do all day, every day. I eat, sleep and breath clothes." Pi squinted, wincing slightly as he realized that what he had said must've sounded bizarre. "Well, I don't eat them...that would make my job very difficult."

"Speaking of jobs..." Pi eyed the blue fabric pinned to the stranger's chest. He assumed that she hadn't brought up tailoring because it was her favorite pass time.

[Anona]

Anona couldn't hold back a sympathetic smile at the man's agonized groan. No matter how he'd come to own the garment, it was obvious that he was desperate to rid himself of it.

So he was a tailor-- or a seamster, whichever-- after all. It seemed that Rhysol had graced him with good fortune today.

The other man's joke took him off-guard, and he laughed before he thought better of it. It had been a while since he'd been in such lighthearted company; even when James jested, it was often dark and lewd, and sent unpleasant shivers down his spine.

"I suppose it wouldn't do you any favors to eat your clients' purchases," he joked, and that in itself was a surprise, too. Perhaps it was the smell of impending rain about the air, or the refreshing sense of lightheartedness that the tailor brought with him, but Anona felt more relaxed than he had in recent memory. He longed for more company of the same character, even if he never met the tailor again after today.

He wasn't so relaxed that when the tailor's gaze moved downwards he didn't tense, and begin to retract inwardly. Once the other man spoke, though, it was obvious that he'd been looking at the linen Anona had just purchased. Anona let out a small sigh of relief before speaking again.

"Right, a job. I'm looking to have a dress made, for myself, I mean--" Anona stopped at that. He'd gotten so relaxed that he forgot about his ever present facade altogether. His voice dropping wasn't cause for worry, as most would first assume that he was a woman with a deeper voice before accusing him of being a man in disguise, but his own thoughts were dangerous. He was letting his guard down, and that could only lead to his punishment.

When he resumed speaking, he instinctively wanted to raise his voice to sound more feminine, but he forced himself to talk naturally so as remain consistent, and not to arouse suspicion. "I need a dress made for myself with the utmost discretion. Do you think you'd be up for the job?"

[Piraen Saneka]

Piraen shrugged. "Most likely not. I don't see it being either healthy or profitable."

As the woman tensed once more, Pi found himself seriously reevaluating himself. Do I look that suspicious? He didn't think that he came off as that intimidating. He was lanky, awkward, and covered sharp angles. His clothes were often soft and pristine, surely giving off a wimpy vibe. After all, what man's man would walk around worrying about whether or not his scarf appeared to be wrinkled? Precisely none.

"Utmost discretion...that's saucy." Pi smiled, though he wasn't too glad that his new acquaintance seemed to be closing up once again. For a moment there, it looked like she was just tense, nervous about walking the mean walkways of Ravok alone. However, as the two crept farther into conversation, Pi got the feeling that this lady had a little bit more than jumpiness hiding beneath her skin. She could still be nervous. Pi allowed, though his mind was quick to jump to the next obvious solution. OR she could be crazy, waiting until I least expect to throw me to that giant fish.

"Well," Pi cleared his throat. Now who's the nervous one? "I'll be glad to make your dress, Miss..." He allowed his voice to trail off into a question. Or, rather, a demand in disguise; he wasn't going to work with this shady woman until he knew more about her.

[Anona]

"Oh, Rhysol, I apologize. I don't know where my head's at." Flustered at his lack of manners, Anona awkwardly jostled the unwieldy fabric in his arms until, after an increasingly embarrassing struggle, he was able to hold his hand out in invitation. "I'm Anona. And you?" He smiled, surprised that the action came easily. The other man's playfulness was easy to feed off of; although he knew it could be dangerous to fall too deeply into it, he couldn't see the harm in allowing himself a bit of relaxation. And besides, if the man was going to make him a dress, surely he'd have to afford him some level of trust.

A pinprick of cold lighted on his outstretched hand, and when he looked down, a drop of water was sliding down his palm. He shifted his hold on the linen again when it began to slide slowly but surely out of his grip.

"I'm not sure what the proper etiquette is for this type of business deal," he said quickly, as he felt another raindrop hit his head, seeping through his hair and chilling his scalp, "but perhaps we should head indoors sooner, rather than later?" Even as he spoke, he noticed a raindrop land violently in the canal nearest them, slicing through the surface of the water and leaving only ripples behind it. Then another, and another, until the canal was moving almost violently. He quickly pulled up the hood of his cloak and shielded his newly purchased fabric as well as he could from the rain.

[Piraen Saneka]

"Anona, wonderful. I'm Piraen," Pi took her hand and gave it a quick shake. "That's Pi, as in the baked good, and Rain, as in the impending doom that is this weather." Piraen flinched as a drop soaked through his shirt. If they stayed out for much longer, then his shirt would pay the price. That simply could not happen.

Pi released Anona's hand and motioned towards the canal. "Oh, the process is simple, really. Measure, snip, sew. We'll have to see about pricing later, though. For now, we should head over to my home." Piraen placed a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder, leading her to the canal's edge. It took only a few ticks for their ride to arrive. The beauty of Ravok: every bad thing caused an equally opposite occurrence. Rain threatens to ruin the day, so the ravasola pilots upped their response time. Wouldn't want to miss a payment opportunity.

"Want to hear some of my philosophy?" Piraen hopped into the thin boat as he changed the subject. After a brief recollection of his balance, he outstretched his hand to the girl. In actuality, he would have offered help to anyone, man or woman, in this situation. Pi saw no difference between genders, especially when considering something so rudimentary as assistance. Everyone needs help, so he couldn't understand why it was only acceptable to offer help to a woman. Then again, that might just be the Alvadasian within him; the city of trickery and deception must have changed him.

[Anona]

Anona smiled at the man's-- Piraen's-- playfulness. In many ways, he reminded Anona of some of the gentlemen that he would meet when James would risk Anona escorting him to a party; the sort with slick hair and full lips with giggling girls hanging off their every arm, who would waggle their perfectly trimmed eyebrows and charm their conquests so easily with playful phrases murmured under the party din. They weren't entirely the same (after all, Piraen had made no motion that he'd even considered Anona anything other than platonically, and for that he was immeasurably gratefult), but the light and easy charmed worked on him just the same.

He nodded when Piraen briefly explained the impending procedures. It all seemed simple enough. He couldn't help but tense when the man's hand lighted on his shoulder, but quickly calmed himself as he was led to the canal. Thankfully, it didn't seem to take more than a few ticks for a ravosala to round the bend and stall in the canal beside them. The ravosalaman was older, though obviously not so elderly that it had hindered his ability to work, with sun-darkened skin and callused hands gripping the ravosala's paddle.

Piraen's offer to share his knowledge startled him. He blinked owlishly at the other man, oh so eloquently offering a stuttering, "Oh, ah--" before he was graciously interrupted as Piraen leapt into the ravosala. A smile tugged once more at his mouth when Piraen's balance seemed to leave him for a moment. This was an odd encounter, indeed.

He accepted the man's outstretched hand with no small amount of gratitude, eventually settling in the seat of the boat. As another drop of rain fell on him, Anona was faced with a decision: keep his cloak around himself and undoubtedly get his new purchase wet as it was impossible to fully cover it now that he was seated, or cover the linen entirely with his cloak and risk being drenched. After a moment's internal debate, he settled on the latter. After all, even should the worst happen, he was on his way towards getting a new dress that he could replace his ruined garments with.

That decided, he lay the rolled-up blue cloth beside him on the seat, unfastened his cloak, and quickly swaddled the cloth as well as he could, placing a protective hand over it for good measure.

As the ravosala began to glide down the canal, Anona realized how rude he'd been in ignoring Piraen's offer. He flushed, berating himself inwardly. He was all out of sorts today, it seemed. "Pardon me, again, Piraen. I don't think I'd be much of a philosophical conversationalist, but I've been told I can be quite a good listener."

[Piraen Saneka]

Piraen nestled onto the seat across from Anona. Normally, he would take a comfortable lounge position. For some reason, the man was at ease on the small Ravokian boats. Bizarre, seeing as he was a bird of prey at heart. Most would think he'd stay as far away from the watery death-traps as possible. Perhaps it was just necessity that forced Pi to grow so found of the boats. After all, there wasn't much choice when it came to transportation in Ravok: either he stepped out of his element and went places, or he stayed home.

As the rain pattered onto him, though, Pi wished he had chosen the second option. He sat squarely on the seat as he tried to make himself a smaller target for the water. He broke this pose for a sort tick, leaning back to give directions to the ravasolaman before quickly returning to his upright position.

"Don't apologize. Good listeners are hard to find in Ravok." Piraen tilted his head slightly, then amended his words. "Welcome good listeners, that is. Rhysol knows there's always a bad good listener...listening." If nothing else, I'll be remembered for my eloquence. Pi scoffed lightly at his oh-so clever wording before returning to his question.

"Anyway, it isn't as much of philosophy as it is a thought. Or an observation. I was just going to note that rain never looks like it is falling like they always say it does." Pi looked out over the canal as they glided along. Water toppled off of rooftops, ricocheted off ravasolas, slid across pathways...none of it just simply fell.

"I don't think I've ever seen rain that can just fall, unhindered to the ground. It always gets blown somewhere, slides off of something, bounces off of another. I think it is some kind of..." Pi paused, hesitant as he carefully chose his next word. "This isn't the right word, but magic. Controlled by something else, you know?" The tailor glanced over at his company, checking to see if she was as deep in thought as he was.

"It sounds crazy out loud." Piraen looked away, smiling, and waved the thought away. "I'm sorry for putting you through that, ignore me."

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OOC^ Piraen's version of small talk. If you'd like, you can post them arriving at his apartment. If not, it'll be in my next post. It felt rushed putting it in this post. Sorry.