Fabric...(open)

[Dancin]

Daniella

"Stand still Dell" mutters my mother, I can hear her patience wearing thin. We stand in the fabric store, our store, beside the one mirror. I am standing on a wobbly foot stool, wrapped in silky white fabric, from nearly head to toe. My mother is near my ankles, poking pins into the thick ivory fabric.
"Sorry Mum," I say, staring glassily out the window. This morning is peaceful, sunshine streams in the window of the shop. People wander past our large window, sometimes glancing in, sometimes bustling straight past. I can smell the food from the butcher and the bakery near our doors. The slide and slip of the silk on my skin is soothing and slightly sensual. After a moment, my mother gives a sigh and steps back to look at the dress.
"Well, it's pretty good. What do you think Dell?" She asks, touching my hip to get my to turn. I have to duck my head to see in the mirror, but the dress is lovely, even with a bent neck. It's floor length with a short train and careful embroidering aroun the hem. The dress is form fitting, falling lightly around my hips. The neckline is a low vee with more embroidery. The dress has lace fluttery sleeves that hide most of my hideous scar, and lace to highlight the waist of the wearer. I glnace back at my mother and grin.
"It's lovely. This will sell for alot," I say, getting down off the foot stool. I give my mom a quick hug before, turning to the back of the store. I head towards our tiny bathroom to change and have just made it to the door when I hear the tinkling of someone coming into the shop. I sigh and go to help them, while my mom cleans up.

[Prince Inigo]

Zentaal Falkier

The man's red eyes glanced through the merchandise. He could 'see' the texture on each fabric, scowling a little. Coarse hands were slipped into a black coat as strands of Zentaal's hair swayed from the wind outside.

A black shirt, he was looking for a black shirt to replace the one he recently got holes in from arduous work. He found them quite annoying, despite what rags he kept when he was wandering from district to district for two years.

Zentaal was a bit picky with what he wanted: a dark t-shirt, between tight and baggy, soft but firm material, long enough to cover the belt line, no decoration. Indeed, he was only going for the common necessity of t-shirts.

[Dancin]

The man who walks in has an intimidating and rather frightening appearance, with his black clothes and hair. I realize we probably look ridiculous next to each other, with my white silky dress and curly blonde hair. I give him a vauge smile and ask politley what he is looking for. He gives me a quick description of the shirt he wants, and I feel my eyes widen. So specific, so perfectly specific.
"No problem," I say, turning to the single long rack of men's attire. I start flipping speedily through the shirts as I talk, "It's so refreshing to have someone who knows what they want. Usually people just come in with this vague idea and expect me to know what they want," I sigh slightly when I realize I am talking at the speed of light. Not that I am actually talking at 299 792 458 m/s but I am sure it seems like it. I pause, and glance at my mother who is rolling her eyes at me from the cash register.
"Well, we have these two, this one is exactly what you wanted except for the fact that it's dark green instead of black. This one has the white cross-stitching but otherwise, it is what you asked for as well," I say taking care to say each word properly, "Which one would you prefer?"

[Prince Inigo]

Zentaal loosened his face a little, though was keeping some annoyance inside, in his soul. He emitted a deep sigh. The fabric store did not even carry what he thought was simple criteria; and, now, his only choices was between one that was dark green in hue and another that had white stitching but black. He gave a little appreciation to the white-dressed, blond store helper; she at least tried.

The red-eyed man withdrew his hand from a comfortable coat pocket and extended the forefinger at the actual black t-shirt. "White stitching," Zentaal answered somewhat gruffly. Since he was not a fan of shopping, negotiating business between clerks was not his forte.

Zentaal reached into his pants pocket, took out a thin off-white wallet, and was digging through the money, his fiery orbs sorting rather than look at the helper. Each coin and paper was organized and kept straight - if a bill. The 18-year old did not like having things in a messy fashion. He finally let out his first complete sentence: "How much will it be?"

[Bryony Kit]

Brony Kit

I walked into the peaceful seam shop, looking at all the colorful fabrics. My gaze fell onto my own shabby outfit and I wished I had at least tried to clean up before I came into the store.

Their was a man at the front of the shop buying a shirt from a girl with curly blonde hair. She looked around awakwardly loooking at some blouses, fingering the hole in her black long sleeved shirt.

She suddenly felt out of place here. Since she- illegally- had to hunt for food, she didn't have much money for trivial things like clothing. She didn't know what to do.

[Prince Inigo]

Tinkling at the door notified Zentaal of a presence approaching. He shot a quick analyzing glance of the person entering the store. For a girl, she was tall; but, in compensation for her height, she was thin and pale, certainly not entirely cut out for working laborious hours and days hunting in the fields.

The the red-headed girl was looking around poking a hole in her shirt, Zentaal was reminded of his encounter with the Falkier family years ago about his clothing. A couple of years wandering the lands, growing distant from his own company, he had accumulated many a tear and hole, even one that stretched from his upper thigh to his ankle on the side of his pants.

When he got rescued, both the old hag and Dantis presented him with fresh clothes, newly-washed. Zentaal was uncaring to give gratitude, but he had thought along the lines that if he worked hard enough he would have been able to afford them anyway. They did not need to pay for him.

Red orbs turned away from the girl and looked through the wallet. He withdrew a couple of bills that he thought was sufficient for a shirt not suited completely to his tastes.

[Dancin]

Another tinkling of the door drew my attention upwards from the wallet in front of me. A tall girl came in, her eyes wary and sad. I saw the shimmery tone of her ginger tone and jealousy burned in my stomach. I had always wanted red hair. She wandered into the store and I turned my attention back to the man who stood across from me. I took the money from him and returned a couple of dollars.
"We weren't able to find what you wanted. So you get it on sale," I say cheerfully, handing him the shirt. He takes it and I dash over to my mother handing her the money. I can feel the man's gaze bore into my back and tug at the fabric of the wedding dress uncomfortably. I turn around and walk past him to the red headed girl, still looking aimlessly around the store. She is poking at a small hole in her sleeve and I frown, she clearly isn't one of the wealthier people in the district. I touch her shoulder gently and smile.
"What can I help you with today?'

[Bryony Kit]

Bryony Kit

"I was just browsing. I hope I'm not a bother, am I?" I replied. The girl in front of me seemed graceful; she practically danced toward me. My frown seemed permanently engraved on my face today after all.

"Hey...do you... have any," I paused not sure how to say the next line, "Extra material that could be sold at a lower cost. You see, my brother and I have grown and while I can give him my handy downs, I think I may be a little too tall for a three year old."

I did not expect any help and my dad said my sister, before she died, had asked the same question to no avail. Maybe someone would be generous enough in these rough times to help out a weary soul.

"My names Bryony, by the way."

[Prince Inigo]

Zentaal did not flinch as the store helper snatched his money and gave back the change in a quick exchange. She sped off, leaving him to his own devices. The shirt was folded and placed on his shoulder. Immediately, the young man walked over to a rack on the right and inspected the material.

He had his eye on the clothes on the rack since he got in. Painful, spiteful memories rushed back into his psyche, bringing forth a more cold glare from him. Zentaal recollected his mother loving velvet material.

[Dancin]

I smiled at the tentative girl, trying to assure her that she wasn't at all a bother.
"Hey...do you... have any," The girl paused as if not sure of what to say, "Extra material that could be sold at a lower cost. You see, my brother and I have grown and while I can give him my handy downs, I think I may be a little too tall for a three year old." I chuckled slightly at the girl and gave her a helpful nod, indicating that she follow me. As we wandered to the back of the store she added, "My names Bryony, by the way." I turn back to her momentarily and give a small, silly curtsey.
"Hello Bryony, my name is Daniella," we reach the large row of fabric on sale and I pause to brush my fingers through it. I feel the familiar fabrics on the against my skin and list them off quickly in my head. Velvet, silk, satin, cotton, polyester, nylon, tuelle. I let my fingers rest on the satin for a moment and then turn to Bryony.
"You probably want the fabrics that, stretch and last longer," I say pulling her gently closer by her sleeve, "That'll be the cottons,polyesters and maybe the nylons. Cotton is the most affordable of those..." I see Bryony look nervously at the price tag and I instantly feel bad. I know what it is like to be poor, without this store my family would be done for. When my father managed to get the space it was like a miracle. I stand completely still for a moment and then lean in so that my mouth is relativley near her ear.
"We can probably slice that price in half. Or maybe even give you a 75% sale," I glance quickly at her face to make sure I haven't offended her but her expression is nearly undreadable.