Timestamp: Fall 35th, 514 AV
Location: Pig's Foot Tavern
Time of Day: 21st Bell, Evening
Kech slumped down at an empty table, setting her pack between her feet. The buxom bar wench came over and asked what she'd like. Kechaiya ordered a pitcher of wine and slipped her three silvers. Reaching into her pack, she pulled out her leather bound sewing kit, setting it to her left. She then pulled out one of her skirts that had a rather large rip in it, courtesy of her traipsing through the woods earlier as she restocked her herbal supplies. Setting it in front of her, she pulled out the last item, a yard of fabric that mostly matched her brown skirt, that she'd purchased earlier for a single silver. She set that atop the shirt as the barmaid returned, setting the pitcher and goblet down on the table to her right. Kech smiled and watched her leave. She poured herself a draught and sipped at it, finding it surprisingly fruity compared to normal.
Then she set to work, pulling out a pair of shears from her sewing kit, and setting them down. Moving the fabric, she eyeballed the size of the tear, noting that it was probably a hand and a half long. Grabbing her shears, she'd decided on making a patch. Eyeballing it, she figured a half hand wide and two hands long would be enough. Placing the blades near the edge of the fabric, roughly a half inch from the border, she began slicing her way upward. When she reached roughly two hands, she stopped and turned the fabric counterclockwise. She then snipped the patch free from the rest of the fabric. She stowed away the shears and the excess fabric.
Flipping the skirt over so that the inside was facing upwards, she stretched it until she was able to get the sides along the tear straight. Then, using some pins from her kit, stuck pins to hold it in place. Stopping for a moment, she took another swig of her wine, looking around the bar. It was a fairly casual evening. The standard rabble were here, but for the most part kept to themselves. There was a dancer in an open area, but it wasn't Caela. This was a blackhaired woman with a wide variety of tattoos on the large amount of skin she let show. Kech found herself watching the woman for a while, sipping at her wine, enjoying her peace and quiet. She wished Merv had food for sell, but these days no one had any that could be spared, even if you had the coin.
But in the peace, she was also alone. This wouldn't have bothered her before, but this season something had changed within the woman. She found herself longing for companionship, longing for someone to talk to, about anything. But this town didn't allow that often, as everyone was too busy trying to get a one up on each other that friendships were often seen as a liability. Especially if you were a foreigner. She remember her drunken rambling a few nights back toward Caela, and found herself embarrassed by her behavior. She would have to find a way to make it up to the dancer.
Location: Pig's Foot Tavern
Time of Day: 21st Bell, Evening
Kech slumped down at an empty table, setting her pack between her feet. The buxom bar wench came over and asked what she'd like. Kechaiya ordered a pitcher of wine and slipped her three silvers. Reaching into her pack, she pulled out her leather bound sewing kit, setting it to her left. She then pulled out one of her skirts that had a rather large rip in it, courtesy of her traipsing through the woods earlier as she restocked her herbal supplies. Setting it in front of her, she pulled out the last item, a yard of fabric that mostly matched her brown skirt, that she'd purchased earlier for a single silver. She set that atop the shirt as the barmaid returned, setting the pitcher and goblet down on the table to her right. Kech smiled and watched her leave. She poured herself a draught and sipped at it, finding it surprisingly fruity compared to normal.
Then she set to work, pulling out a pair of shears from her sewing kit, and setting them down. Moving the fabric, she eyeballed the size of the tear, noting that it was probably a hand and a half long. Grabbing her shears, she'd decided on making a patch. Eyeballing it, she figured a half hand wide and two hands long would be enough. Placing the blades near the edge of the fabric, roughly a half inch from the border, she began slicing her way upward. When she reached roughly two hands, she stopped and turned the fabric counterclockwise. She then snipped the patch free from the rest of the fabric. She stowed away the shears and the excess fabric.
Flipping the skirt over so that the inside was facing upwards, she stretched it until she was able to get the sides along the tear straight. Then, using some pins from her kit, stuck pins to hold it in place. Stopping for a moment, she took another swig of her wine, looking around the bar. It was a fairly casual evening. The standard rabble were here, but for the most part kept to themselves. There was a dancer in an open area, but it wasn't Caela. This was a blackhaired woman with a wide variety of tattoos on the large amount of skin she let show. Kech found herself watching the woman for a while, sipping at her wine, enjoying her peace and quiet. She wished Merv had food for sell, but these days no one had any that could be spared, even if you had the coin.
But in the peace, she was also alone. This wouldn't have bothered her before, but this season something had changed within the woman. She found herself longing for companionship, longing for someone to talk to, about anything. But this town didn't allow that often, as everyone was too busy trying to get a one up on each other that friendships were often seen as a liability. Especially if you were a foreigner. She remember her drunken rambling a few nights back toward Caela, and found herself embarrassed by her behavior. She would have to find a way to make it up to the dancer.
