Solo [An Elegant Weave] Fits Like a Glove

[Sydelle Faraway]

85th of Summer

Well, it wasn't embroidery she found herself working on, but at least she'd chosen a table near enough to admire those who were embellishing that way. And if she'd had to choose, Sydelle still might have chosen her current project: prepping winter gloves for sale.

Currently she had several pairs of unadorned gloves in a box, and another box containing various scraps of furs. Project: attach fur to the gloves. It was just the kind of short, repetitive task that allowed Syd to lose herself in daydreams, while handling fabric - or in this case, fur - that felt simply amazing. All things considered, it was shaping up to be a very good day.

Selecting a pair of gloves, she slipped a hand into one and stared at it admiringly. It was a thin leather, just a tad too large for her hands, but it did an admirable job of hiding the callouses on her palm and fingertips. Turning the glove this way and that way, clenching and wiggling her fingers, she resolved to buy a pair at the first opportunity. It had been in the back of her mind for a few days, ever since she'd tried her hand at clerking on the sales floor.

With a certain relish, she reached her other hand into the box of fur scraps and pulled out a handful. The random assortment of cut-offs spilled out over the table, and Sydelle almost sighed with delight. But, though she was enjoying silken feel of them, she managed to focus her thoughts and begin looking for matching colors. None of this fur had been dyed, for which she was grateful; the natural colorations were beautiful enough, in her opinion, and dying them was just... Tacky.

But it did mean that finding enough length of scrap in the same, or very similar, colors was a bit of a challenge. Syd pulled off the glove she'd been sampling and laid it down among the furs. Side-by-side, it was easy to eliminate several colors right off as too dark or too light, and she separated them accordingly. What was left was a pile of very dark furs, a pile of very light furs, and a larger pile of scraps that fell somewhere in the middle.

[Sydelle Faraway]

Selecting the fur for the gloves proved remarkably challenging; each time she thought she'd made up her mind, she wondered if another combination might not be more appealing. It was more than a few chimes before she'd settled on the first pieces to use, and she decided that it might just be best to get that portion of the work completely out of the way before getting out her needle.

Pulling the remaining gloves from the box, she laid them out in pairs across the table. Some were clearly ladies' gloves, and some for men, and a pair whose intended buyer could have been either gender. Carefully inspecting the colors, Sydelle systematically went through the furs in front of her, selecting and dismissing and selecting again for each pair of gloves; once she'd decided, Syd tucked the fur into the gloves and set them neatly back into the box.

With a feeling of pride, Sydelle scooped the remaining scraps of fur into their box. She'd just succeeded in finishing up what she considered to be the hardest part of the job. After that, she could allow her thoughts to wander while her fingers went through the routine sewing - Syd was looking forward to a daydream or two.

Plucking her sewing supplies from her kit, she began the first few stitches confidently. After struggling the push the needle through the thicker leather, Syd gave up momentarily. Even with the added reinforcement of the thimble, the needle was clearly outmatched. Syd stuck her tongue out at the glove and dug around in her kit for a sturdier tool that wouldn't balk at a little bit of leather. She brandished it playfully at the glove, feinted as though she were dueling with it and then remembered where she was.

A glance around the orangery showed that no one had witnessed her antics, and Sydelle grinned to herself before threading the larger needle and setting it to the actual work. It took a bit of effort to pierce the leather, and Syd was glad for her thimble. In fact, even with the thimble, the pointed pressure was noticeable on her fingertip; the next step would be an awl, though, and she hadn't brought hers.

Struggling just a bit with the needle, Sydelle fervently hoped the other gloves would be no thicker than this one was.

[Sydelle Faraway]

'Her needle whips along,
Threads of silk to follow,
Necessity grows from her fingers,
All that her mind will allow.
Stitch! Stitch! Stitch!
Working with heart and love,
She sings with a voice of delicate pitch
While she fashions a mighty glove.'

The song came unbidden to her lips as she worked; with no regard for who might be listening, she sang the old song that reminded her of home and her mother. It seemed there was a verse for any occasion and, having moved from leather gloves to woolen, Sydelle had enough concentration to remember some of them.

A basic running stitch tacked the fur in place as she hummed merrily. If anything, the running stitch made the finishing work that much easier. There was no need to hold the trim even or level - she had only to secure it where it was already tacked down, and she did so with very little thought. The wool was much easier to work with than the leather had been; her thimble-finger went completely unused as she pushed the needle into the fabric and drew it tightly through the other side.

Eying her work critically, Sydelle smiled; she might not be the most experience seamstress employed at An Elegant Weave, but she'd pit her basic stitches against anyone's. Small and even, it was almost a shame they were nearly invisible in the pile of the wool. But that was the point, anyway. For now.

Syd cut a glance to the group of women and men working on the fancy embroidery. 'One day,' she thought firmly, 'I will be sitting there right alongside them, creating beautiful art on the fabric.'

'Her thimble taps a tune,
Sparkling in Syna's light;
While mending she pays no mind,
Working straight through to night.
Stitch! Stitch! Stitch!
While outside the fields are sown,
She sings with a voice of delicate pitch
Sewing a lace nightgown.'

At that verse, Syd chuckled; no nightgowns today, and no lace, either. But the song had done its job, anyway. The woolen gloves were finished, the gray of the wool accented with a lovely silver fur. Sydelle didn't know what kind of animal it had come from, but she was sure someone would be quick to snap this pair up. Though they would never be working gloves, they were fitting enough for daily wear and, if kept clean, would work for more special occasions, too.

[Sydelle Faraway]

Sitting back, Sydelle stared at the last pair of gloves. Though she'd initially been excited at working with the fur trimmings, after attaching it to several pairs of gloves, her fingers were beginning to revolt.

Flexing and straightening them repeatedly gave some small relief, but the soreness lingered and Syd wished for a moment that she had some of her mother's rosemary ointment. Though she found the smell a bit overwhelming, it did wonders for the minor aches and pains that came with long hours spent stitching.

'I really should learn to make my own, now that I'll be sewing daily.' One more thing she should have paid more attention to before leaving home, and something she would have to try to learn now. 'At this rate, I will never be bored.'

Restored, somewhat, after her small break, Sydelle picked up a glove and looked at it sternly, as though force of will could alone could finish the task. When that didn't work, she sighed ruefully and picked up a few pins. Placing the pins between her lips, sharp ends out, Sydelle began positioning the fur along the opening of the glove. Though the running stitch was a faster method, Syd was simply putting off picking up the needle again for as long as possible.

Once she'd tacked the trim in place on both gloves, however, it was time for needle and thread once more. As she began the small, slanting stitches through the glove, into the fur, and back through the glove, she allowed her mind to wander to the embroidery once more.

The women and men handling those finer, artistic details sewed daily, with such focus and attention to detail that Sydelle imagined they must have either remarkably strong fingers, or an almost continual ache in them. Though it didn't deter her from wanting to learn, it did give her pause. Maybe she should be less eager to learn the finer aspects of embroidery until she'd learned enough to make her own rosemary salves. Or other salves. Whatever else was available for sore joints.

Which was probably something else she should learn; what other remedies there were for what must be a common ailment. Since there was not an overpowering smell of rosemary emanating from the embroiderers - was that the title? - Syd assumed they must not all be slaves to that particular treatment.

Finding that she'd finished the circle of trimwork on one glove, she pulled herself back from her errant thoughts and inspected the finished product. It was straight, and seemed secure, and Sydelle tied the thread off in satisfaction. She wove the loose tails of thread back into the weave of the glove, finishing it off completely, and picked up its mate.

Though it was her last project of the day, she was determined that it would not be a sloppy piece; she began fixing fur to wool with her typical even, slanting stitch and picked up her train of thought.

Did they design the images they embroidered? Sydelle wasn't particularly creative in that way, but surely not all those who embroidered were artists. The designers must have something to do with it, and Syd knew she could follow someone else's instruction easily enough. On the surface, there was no reason she couldn't aspire to embroidery. If nothing else, the variety of the changing designs and colors would be preferable to the monotony of alterations and trim.

Of course, in her mind, she'd not only learn embroidery, but her needlework would become sought after throughout Syliras - maybe as far away as Zeltiva or Nyka!

While she'd been lost to her daydream, Syd had finished the second glove - 'Already?' - and she looked down at it in pleased surprise.

And then dismay, as she realized what she'd done.

A row of beautiful, small, even stitches held the opening of the glove securely... Closed.

With a groan, Sydelle dropped the glove, needle and all to the table and laid her forehead down in defeat.

[Vanari]

Sydelle

Observation	+4 XP
Sewing	+3 XP
Organization	+1 XP
Planning	+1 XP
Singing	+1 XP

Lores :

• Note to Self: Buy a Pair of Gloves
• Must Find Salve for Sore Joints
• Sewing a Glove Shut

Notes :

Good job!

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Cheers