Itsy Bitsy Spider...

[Alysia Weaver]

Alysia hummed softly, fingers caressing the soft silk upon the spool before she lifted it off her spindle. Standing up, she walked carefully past her spinning wheel, past her loom and placed the new spool of material upon the shelf next to all the others. She would need to dye it...or perhaps she would not. This material after all was truly gorgeous, silvery white and smooth as silk while being as light as a feather. She had a secret, but she was not about to tell anybody what it was, at least she was not intending to do so anytime soon. She walked back past her loom and to her spinning wheel, still humming a soft tune, one that Mama Stilia had use to hum to her a long time ago. Perhaps Alysia was feeling exceptionally nostalgic for some reason in particular, but she believed it was simply because it had been so long since she had left home and moved out on her own to open up her own clothing shop.

She had spent a long time looking for the perfect place to open up her shop, having traveled through America, and several other places. China had really called to her, they had appreciated good work but she could not stand the mass of humanity that had all crowded in to the place. So she had come to Europe, to see if her wares would not only sell here but be appreciated. She was not about strictly making money, she only wanted enough of that to pay her rent. She did what she did because she enjoyed it. Pure and simple as that, pleasure of the craft of weaving together a magnificent piece of fabric as potential articles of clothing or linens. After all, it was genetic to her if anybody knew the truth.

Walking to the front of her shop, Alysia turned the small open sign from the Closed position over so that the Open was showing then walked to her counter. Slipping behind it she stood waiting quietly, picking up a needle and thread and beginning to sew a patch on to a the torn pants leg of her neighbor who seemed to keep tearing their cloths. Alysia did not mind at all, the thread was free and the needle did not really need replacing plus this kept her hands busy while she waited for customers. Besides, it was in her style to help people who needed her help whenever she possibly could. She continued to hum her soft song, working at placing the patch over the torn hole in the pants leg as she waited with the utmost patience for a customer to come to her store to purchase clothing, cloth material, or even things to begin attempting to make their own fabrics. She had several extra spinning wheels and even another loom for purchase in the front of her store, with the walls lined with different spools of fabric and materials to create and craft other fabrics such as wool, silk, and cotton.

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    Jack was in the neighborhood. Yes, he occasionally went shopping. The young mage couldn't exactly be dealing violence and plundering arcane secrets every waking moment, now could he? He wasn't a violent person, not usually, but, admittedly, he could be violent sometimes. On demand really. That was the distinction the young man acknowledged between himself and others, that emotion typically played a minimal role in his decisions.

    Eyeing the open sign, Jackson strode confidently into the store perhaps an hour or less after it had opened. The appearance of his clothes had never been much of a priority to him but, as he'd been branching more and more into social ventures, the young man had begun to see how shirking the usual murderhobo garb could be helpful. It was time to establish a relationship with a skilled tailor and, no, Wrath did not count.

    The mysterious figure who'd contacted him all those months ago. They'd done some work together since, though Wrath could never seem bothered to do anything in person, frequently employing tight-lipped bruisers to handle his dirty work, occasionally contracting Jack. He'd crafted a few things for the young mage but any articles of clothing he made were functional in design, adhering to some sort of utilitarian fashion but by no means pretty to look at, nor were they meant to impress. Mainly, they were meant to keep him alive.

    "Hello," The young mage greeted the woman behind the counter as he admired the work on display in the shop. It seemed better than anything he'd expected and, although he knew little of the art, began to hope. Although she was young, Jack could see no other employees in the shop and it surprised him that one of so few years could possess such skill. There was no other way to find out than to ask.

    Wearing a warm, friendly smile, Jack met her eyes once he was within a few feet of the counter, coming to a comfortable stop a couple feet away where he could speak at a normal volume without the woman straining to hear him. He was wearing simple clothing, dressed in a white dress shirt beneath a snug, black leather jacket above charcoal faded dark jeans and boots that were just a shade more worn than the jacket. Over his shoulder, Jack carried a small bag full of mystery items that probably pertained to the business he was currently conducting.

    "Is this your store? I was hoping to commission a few articles for my personal use."