Loom, Boom, Doom (Rosela, please)

[Thomas Cosa]

50th of Spring, 515 AV
Red Diamond Fashions

"Is that everything today, sir?"

"I think so, thank you," Thomas nodded, breathing out a small smile. Fresh off the boat, nasueated, and incredibly tired, he wanted to consider the smile payment enough for the clothes he'd be purchasing. It was no small miracle he managed to reach the store, a not so polite suggestion by one of the guards who'd so wonderfully noted the wear and tear he called his everyday.

Sahova hadn't exactly demanded much in the way of appearance. He managed well enough with the clothes on his back, literally. Those same clothes, unfortunately, didn't manage well enough on the boat ride over to Riverfall. The cotton thinned incredibly easily, tearing at the seams; he somehow managed to keep them clean, not wanting to smell, but even still, it was obvious to all he was in due need of some clothes.

He frowned, catching sight of his reflection in a stray mirror. He'd been handsome, once, before Sahova had taken that along with everything else he'd had to offer. He managed to gain some weight, nothing impressive, on the trip, but even then he was too thin -- especially when compared to the towering Akalak. Stranger, his bejeweled golem, coiled against his neck and the silver wizard's ring afforded him some vanity, a small illuison of affluence, so there was something. He sighed, hoping that maybe Riverfall could restore some of what Sahova had stolen.

"That comes to 3gm and 3.6sm for everything today," the cashier nodded, straining a polite smile. Thomas nodded, collecting the money as the cashier beging to fold his purchase and bag them.

Ledger3gm for 3 pair simple cotton pants, 3.6sm for thee simple cotton shirts.

[Rosela]

”So this…goes here…” Rosela tentatively slid one handle forward. ”And this…goes up here…” Two hands holding the first handle in place, two more carefully slid another backwards. This opened a gap between the strings held taut in the front and with some triumph, she strung a third length of yarn between them. ”Okay, so then I just-“

click

clickclick

clickclickclickclick-

The second handle, which she thought was supposed to then slide forward, remained resolutely in place, the edge knocking lightly against another handle that she knew from previous experiments had to stay back or the front-strings would all fall out. Her groan of frustration rose into a snarl of anger and she attempted to leap up from the chair, only to quickly overbalance and fall back into it. Shoving the handles back, one sandaled foot lashed out and kicked at the heavy frame. It remained uncaring in the face of her efforts.

Mood swinging wildly into the red, she heaved herself out of the chair again, one hand on her enormous stomach, and shuffled towards the front. Someone besides the shadows had to hear of her frustrations. It had been a quiet day, so she assumed her desk clerk wouldn’t mind hearing her vent. ”Hudon!” She yelled before she was even through the door to the front. ”This stupid thing isn’t working. Send a message to that miserable Minous and-“

By the time she realized there was a customer at the front desk, Rosela had made it halfway up the center aisle. There was a moment of heavy silence as both she and Hudon, the Akalak behind the desk, locked eyes and slowly slid their attention to the young man. Her mood swing immediately dried up and she couldn’t quite remember why she’d so desperately needed to vent specifically on the shop floor.

”I’m terribly sorry…" The words echoed with an awkward laugh across the space between she and the thin, tall man. "Pregnant lady troubles. When things don’t work…” She waved a hand vaguely at the back room, unsure of the professional way to apologize for a mood swing.

“I’ll have Tim send a message to the gadgeteer. I’m sure he’ll get it working.” Hudon’s baritone was firmly set to ‘soothing’ and he slid the customer’s twine-tied bag across the counter. “I’m sorry, do come again.”

”Yes, I hope you found everything you were looking for,” Rosela chimed in, trying to regain some small portion of her dignity.

[Thomas Cosa]

Thomas watched as the clerk folded his purchases; a simple crossing of the delicate shirt arms, bringing the ends to meet the top before flipping it on it's front to hide the folds. A perfect white cotton square the result. There was a certain elegance to the quick movements, a delicate practice, he decided. Nothing so impressive as magic, but there was something to it, enough to warrant a small wisp of his admiration.

It calmed him, watching the akalak fold. Or it distracted him, anyway. Or it did, before a sudden yell caught both his and the clerk's attention, both turning as a round shape waddled across the store front meeting a heavy silence, and a cutting glare from Thomas. He'd had a brief moment of peace stolen, by an ephyarian no less. A small, almost forgotten, bitterness sparked inside as he remembered Laria, the smug witch who was no doubt rejoicing at her own lab; the very same that once belonged to him.

"I wouldn't know, I'm not --," he began, the cold harshness of his tone warming up considerably as he heard their need for a gadgeteer. "I mean," he smiled, quick to smooth out his voice, "No need to apologize. I couldn't even begin to wonder what you must be going through," he paused, thinking about what people ususally say to pregnant woman. They weren't exactly common on Sahova, and it had been so long since he'd had to interact with anyone even remotely considering the idea of reproducing.

At least in a biological way.

"When are you due? You must be so excited," he smiled louder, hoping to give off some kind of friendliness. This was easier. He'd played pretend happy and kind and stupid pulser for the nuits plenty of times. He could do it with a ephyarian, easy. "I couldn't help but overhear," he stopped himself, only just realizing his bluntness. Too late, he decided. Only thing to do is to move forward and hope for the best -- some kind of job. He needed money, and finding a job was the top of list of things he needed to do. "That you need a gadgeteer? Perhaps I could help?"

It was hard to hide the desperation in his voice -- hopefully, it wasn't anything too complicated. He wasn't the best, but he could do something, surely.

[Rosela]

A twist of embarrassment worked in the back of Rosela’s mind at the young man’s annoyed stare. She was pregnant, for Xyna’s sake, she was doing her best. With the practiced ease of one who often shrugged off judgements, she let it go and simply smiled. To her surprise, this seemed to work as the irritation quickly dropped out of his face in return.

He offered the common platitudes for one in her state and Rosela responded with the usual slight tilt of the head and a soft smile, laying two hands over her swollen belly. ”Thank you for understanding. My mind just flies away sometimes. They say early Summer’s the big date - then the real fun begins.” She ended with a single huffed laugh. That line always brought laughs from women, especially those with children, but she was experimenting with using it on men. Akalaks were usually more lighthearted about children, but human men were relatively untested. Like a flash of daylight, she felt in that moment that she had always been pregnant, every day answering a new customer’s well-meaning inquiry while smiling and tilting her head coquettishly about the creature that would eventually split her in half.

Her smile twisted awkwardly again at what she hoped was a lighthearted jab at her outburst, but her interest caught firmly on his offer. ”Help? Are you a gad-gadgeteer?” Her Common stumbled, but she looked him over intently. He wasn’t impressively dressed, but he apparently had the good sense to come to her shop, so she couldn’t fault him for that. A discreet glance to Hudon gave her only his abbreviated shrug, no overt warning signs. Waiting on Minous would take time, if he decided to come at all, the wretch. What did she have to lose?

”It would require a bit of discretion. I have a...contraption that I don't know how to work. There’s another business in the city that has a monopoly on a particular trade, and they won’t be happy that I’m producing on my own.” Folding four arms, she lowered her head and held his gaze. ”I paid 8 gold mizas a day to have the thing constructed. I’ll give you 8 today if you can tell me how it works, and another 5 for your silence about it.”

It admittedly wouldn’t be the end of the world if Yards and Yards found out she was getting into the weaving trade, but any petulance on their end would make balancing her ledger even more difficult than it already was.