Needle of Your Eye

[Ataraxis]

That was the name of this quaint little haberdashery. As irony would have it, the store sat on the corner between a spear shop and an eye clinic, and Lillian wondered what managed to keep the business afloat. After all, its location induced in its customers the very vivid image of a punctured eye, while its very name was in and of itself a gateway trauma to ommetaphobia. Then again, it was a relief to know there was a good surgeon within walking distance if she ever put her eye out. In any case, her very rational fear of being blinded by metal and pointy objects notwithstanding, the girl needed to pick up her courage and enter the establishment, so that she could be on her way after purchasing a few common articles. Well, common with a slight twist.

Twinkling bells chimed as she pushed the glass door, stepping into what she could only describe as a factory of textile rainbows. Tall shelves spanned from wall to wall, fraught with endless spools of gossamer and silk and velvet and plush and taffeta, all coming in brilliant reds, regal teals, emerald greens, peacock yellows and various animal prints. Smaller stands and tables displayed stylish boxes full of buttons, some carved from redwood, some from onyx and obsidian, and many others made from nacre shells and polished pewter. As she had heard, the Needle of Your Eye really was the foremost seller of soft goods in this corner of the Bazaar, be that in quantity, quality or variety. That made her hopeful that whoever owned this store would have what she needed.

“Hello!” she said with a gleeful smile, stepping to the counter that was stacked with spools of thread and macramé supplies. She had seen someone move about in the storage room behind it, and hoped whoever was rummaging through the stocks had heard her. “I heard a good portion of your customers are enchanters, so I was hoping you might have a few prevalida sowing needles in stock? Two-eye needles, if possible. They need to have some weight to them without being thicker than the everyday kind, too.” She had somewhat truncated her explanation by omitting the fact that they needed enough weight to be thrown straight to some extent. Common needles would simply tumble to the ground or be lost with the smallest of breezes, which would be inappropriate for the use she had in store for them.

“Also, if you have any, how many could I buy with, say… a hundred coins?”

[Logan]

The woman had been busily at-work with her needle and thread repairing the seam some unfortunate young man had managed to rip during battle, when a young lady entered her small shop. Sliding her glasses down the bridge of her nose, the older woman's eyes peered at the younger woman. She continued to sew as the young woman explained her desire for specific needles. With a gentle hmm, the older woman set her fabric and needle down upon the small liviol table to her right.

"Prevalida," she countered calmly, "would not fall within your requested range of price. Not even remotely. You might consider Damascus or Dehlar. Both would provide the weight you want, though I haven't a clue why you'd need the extra weight." The old woman picked up her fabric and needle and began the repair once more. Looking up slowly she finished, "As I have always said, 'A heavy needle is a lazy needle.'"

[Ataraxis]

“I see,” Lillian said after a moment, not without a hint of disappointment. She remembered the days when she could buy a small dagger of the same material for only two-hundred coins, but inflation seemed to have struck hard since her last jaunt to the bazaar. “This comes to me as quite a surprise… to think something so small would cost so much. Then again, that is a testament to the quality of your wares.”

Lillian pondered how to proceed, as she needed to save as much of her life savings as she could for the next item on her purchase list. “You are quite right in saying that. Then I withdraw my request that it be heavier: a simple prevalida needle would suit my needs well enough. May I ask what the retail price would now be for one?”

[Logan]

The older woman laid down her sewing work once more. Raising a finger to the bridge of her glasses, she slid them up her nose into a more suitable position. She sat quietly for what most likely seemed an eternity, and then proceeded to explain, "You would be quite right in being surprised. Even I myself have been hard hit by the economics these lands are currently experiencing. The Red Hand had been a force in driving prices more affordable. Their subsequent removal from power, and dwindling supply of low-cost materials have really driven prices up significantly."

The older woman looked over the younger one with a big smile. "I remember a time when I was much like you," she reminisced nostalgically, "You probably think that was some time ago, but it wasn't. There was a time when I wasn't even a seamstress and owned my own shop. It wasn't long ago, really. Times have changed, though, and I must make a living how I can. If what you are really wanting is Prevalida for one purpose or another, I might be able to offer a small exchange to help lower the price considerably. A long-time friend of mine from down the way has requested the aide of a younger gentleman, and the younger gentleman is on a mission to acquire some Prevalida along with the son of the merchant."

She looked curiously to the younger woman, "I shouldn't expect it would take more than a day or two to acquire the metal, and I could offer a voucher for perhaps twenty free needles if you assisted them?"

[Ataraxis]

When Lillian had first seen the woman exit the shadows of the storage room, she had registered in her mind everything there was to notice about her person: the salt-and-pepper hair, grizzled either by age or stress or an enfeebling combination of both; the crow’s feet and the pale eyes that had once been a stunning shade of jade, now drooping wearily from decades of toil and intricate work; the fact that she was frail of constitution, but thinned and withered by harsh times that showed no sign of ever ending. She was advanced in age, but Lillian believed her when she said she had not been so old for so long.

Yet, there was not only frailty about this woman: she had a vigor to her carriage, something intrinsic about her personality that had endured the wear of time and blossomed along with her wisdom. The dress she donned was also resplendent in both its weave and humility: emerald taffeta with snaking crimps, extending from a conservative neckline and down to her ankles in a subtle yet majestic cascade. There was nothing haughty about the dress, and it did not hide her age behind flash and pomp: it complimented it, and made her wisdom more effective an accessory than any ring or necklace. And more important than anything else, deep within her emerald eyes was a great fire, the kind that said her end would not be coming any time soon - that dared death to even try. Lillian was glad to see that.

That, however, did not mean the woman could not do with some help around.

“I would be thrilled to assist!” Lillian exclaimed in genuine enthusiasm, with sunshine on her smile. “I’m not quite certain how I would be able to help, but… I’ll do my best.” She considered asking just what this ore retrieval would actually entail, and what skill set a girl of sixteen could possibly bring to this endeavor, but she decided against it: some way or another, she would make it worth the seamstress’ while.

This was when she remembered something important. So taken aback was the little librarian with the woman’s kind proposition, it had been knocked right out of her skull, and she felt rather silly for that. “Actually, I was going to suggest helping in some way or another, as I have some skill as a seamstress myself. In fact, I still would like to lend a hand, if you would accept it?”

Before the woman could answer, she went on. “My mother was a seamstress herself, and she worked in a shop just like this… well, not quite like this. Not as pretty… but here wares were. Being here… it makes me nostalgic.” At this, her mind jolted back to reality, and she realized that for a moment there, she had lost herself. “I’m sorry, I tend to ramble on. But please, let me help. I truly would like to repay you for your kindness.”

[Logan]

The young woman identified her sub-skill-set of being a seamstress, and the older woman laughed quietly. "I should have known," she responded. "It makes total sense! A youthful exuberance coupled with a steady hand. How could I even consider turning away such an offer?" The older woman nodded appropriately, and returned to her sewing.

"When you return, I will have a few garments in need of repair for you to work on, dear one," the older woman had taken a shining to the younger one, "And you know, as a young lady, I'm sure you'll come up with some way to help the young boys." She winked and returned to her sewing, hiding a slight smile and grin.

[Ataraxis]

“Wh..what?” the teenager only managed to reply, her voice high and tremulous from the shock and embarrassment. “I… I don’t… the boys… I mean, I’ve never… what?” Lillian’s mind was racing, unsure whether the woman’s comment had been an innocent joke or something lewd, but then she felt even more mortified at the idea she was accusing a woman her age of being bawdy, or that she herself had even considered the possibility that there was something salacious in that quip. Her cheeks flushed redder than a freshly-harvested beet, and she turned away to hide this side of her she had never wanted anyone to see.

“I-In any case, I’d be g-glad to take care of them…” her mind blanked, until she quickly spun to correct herself, waving her hands about in complete disarray. “The garments! I meant the garments!” She wanted to pound on her head for beseeming this image of a bubbly and socially-gauche teenager, which for all intents and purposes she was. That it was true was, to her, no reason to shout it from the rooftops like she was right now. “S-so… what, uhm… what would I need to do… for the Prevalida? I’m not sure what competences I have that could help its acquisition. Not that I’m going back on my word! I’d just like to know so I can properly prepare, if it’s something I can do, is all.”

[Logan]

At first the old woman sat there giggling in a manner more befitting the younger woman, but as the younger woman continued to trip over herself in embarrassment she decided to speak up to ease the mind of the younger. "While I would never propose such an arrangement as you were implying, I was merely implying you could accompany the men on their trip and see to any needs they may have. How you meet those needs is purely up to you," she inwardly chuckled to herself.

She wasn't really suggesting the young girl meet those needs, it was entirely up to her if she did. The older woman did consider for a moment what exactly she could manage out of Jacob if certain things went well, but she let the thought pass. She couldn't allow herself to be okay with such prostitution, even if it would've been quite lucrative for all parties involved. Shaking her head she looked to the young woman once more, "Your skills, talents, and assets are your own. Perhaps they will find need for you to mend a garment while traveling, or to help haul the materials. I am unsure, but I know you will be a welcome commodity for the young men."

Inwardly she kind of hoped the young girl would take a shining to Jacob's son, but she wouldn't let onto that. Not one bit.

[Ataraxis]

With every second into the woman’s explanation, Lillian felt the increasing need to dig a hole in which to crawl and hide. She dearly wished she had not blushed and gyrated like that, since her embarrassment seemed to have spurred the woman on, putting out innuendo after innuendo with such a carefree attitude. “I’m not… not that kind of… person,” she said meekly, hoping to clarify. The notion that the seamstress could imagine her as being a girl of such loose morals was mortifying, and clearing that misunderstanding felt, at that moment, more important than even her life. Foolish, but it was not something she could help.

“I’ll do what I can – within the realm of reason and decency!” she decided to add, as if her stance on the matter had not been made clear enough. “I’m very good with maps, and I’ve spent enough time on my own to fend for myself. I’m sure if they need me to trap a rabbit or any such game…

“Oh,” Lillian said simply, interrupting herself. “I can’t believe I’ve been so rude!” Lillian stepped closer to the counter, letting her hand reach between the jars and supplies and across to the woman standing at the other side. “My name is Lillian Sesthal: it’s a pleasure to meet you! And I know, it's after the fact... I'm very sorry.”

[Logan]

The old woman smirked and blushed as she grabbed the younger woman's hand. "Ahh, Lillian! What a beautiful name! I am Alexis Manna, and obviously," she said outstretching her hand and motioning around, "these are my wares. This is also my shop." Alexis pulled Lillian over to one of the dresses lying in a pile of many.

She picked it up and placed it against Lilith, checking size to shape and color to tones. "I believe I could pull this in a little and it would look absolutely ravishing on you," she said. "Furthermore," she continued, "it is yours to keep if it fits, right." Immediately, she began to sew and stitch a couple of spots, hemming as necessary.

Soon, the garment was back into Lillian's hands and Alexis was beaming. "Well, don't just stand there, beautiful, try it on," the old woman beckoned. "After all, what would the boys think if you show up in what you're wearing right now," she said as she winked and grinned.

[Ataraxis]

“I… I doubt they’d think much of me, no matter what I wear.” Lillian was not sure what to think; what she had thought would be a simple business trip had suddenly become an opportunity to dazzle and woo young men she had never even met. The idea was completely alien to her: not one time in her life did she have the luxury of even thinking about living the way most girls her age do. In fact, when she had entered this store, her mind was intent on acquiring the tools she would need to better survive on her own in a world that owed her nothing. While she had no intention of parading herself in front of these boys, even at Alexis’ insistence, this rare opportunity to breathe, just for a while… disarmed her.

“I guess… I guess my summer dress has seen better days.” Still, Lillian loved to wear it, because it was the only memento left from her mother. She had sewn it for her eighth birthday, too loose and too long so that she could grow into it. For the majority of eight years, it had been the only piece of clothing she had, save for a nightgown or the plain blouse and linen pants she wore when washing her dress. With her way of life, however… it had been frayed and ripped, and even her deft hand could not hope to fix it eternally. “Alright, I will. Thank you so much, madam Alexis. You’ve been so kind to me, I’m running out of things to repay you with!” She laughed there and then, making her way to the only dressing stall in the store.

When she was done donning the dress, Lillian did not open the door and step out. A wave of embarrassment had struck her, and she was feeling foolish for entertaining this fantasy that she could live a piece of this life she had read in so many books, a life where dances and formals and romance and cotillions were all the rage in the heart of young maidens. It did not suit her, she thought, nor did the dress she had found to be so beautiful.

When she finally stepped out, she did not look at Alexis’ face, preferring to stare down at her boots, still caked with dirt from the woods and streets. The dress was a satin of both cobalt and midnight blue, with simple cuts and a streamlined design. Rather than the short sleeves she was so acquainted with, there was only a strap that rounded back her neck, its thin ends tied into a subtle ribbon. Her back and shoulders felt bare and exposed, and while not plunging, she thought the décolletage was too revealing for someone like her. The hem of the dress floated inches beneath her knees, and the outward shape reminded her of blossoming petals without being too obvious or infantile.

It really was a beautiful dress, but she could not help but have this sinking feeling that Alexis was throwing pearls before swine. “Don’t pull any punches…”

[Logan]

As Lillian had stepped into the dressing stall, Alexis moved back to her sewing. She listened quietly as the young woman began to succumb to the idea of gussying herself up for a couple of handsome young men who could become potential suitors -- maybe. As the old woman finished the repairs, she moved closer to the stall and spoke quietly, "My dear young Lillian, there is a certain quality about you hidden behind the chess game you seem to play."

Alexis stepped back and hesitated. As much as the older woman wanted to see the younger woman in the stunning dress she had chosen for her, she also knew Lillian had to gain confidence and courage in herself to truly win over any of the young men she would surely cross in her travels. In a matter of moments she stepped out from the stall and allowed Alexis to gaze upon the dress and it's occupier.

Nodding quietly Alexis stood with her jaw slightly agape and one hand pressed against the side of her chin. She was completely awestruck. When Lillian had stepped into her shop, the older woman had no idea what lay in wait beneath the caked on mud and grime. She had no clue of the truly feminine creature stayed hidden behind the facade of the simple Lillian. And somehow, Alexis had to assume neither did Lillian.

Alexis hesitated a second longer, in deep thought, and then approached Lillian. The older woman placed her hands on either side of Lillian's face and pulled it up to look at her. Alexis turned her face to one side, planting a gentle friendly kiss upon her cheek, and repeated the action upon the other cheek.

"Lilly, I tell you this as genuine as is humanly possible," Alexis said, "every young man will have dreams of you. And not just once, but probably many, many times. What lay beneath your simple exterior was a beautiful butterfly just waiting for the cocoon to break open and reveal the true lady inside." She shook her head in absolute amazement.

Quickly, she ran to the back room and rummaged through the various odds and ends. A few moments of silence later, and knowing full well Lillian probably began to question her boldness in revealing herself in the dress to the woman, Alexis returned holding a pair of high-heels which had just been repaired by the shoe-maker down the way. They were a most beautiful cobalt blue, and the color and fabric practically matched the dress. She took Lillian's hands and gave them to her, "I want you to have these, Lilly. I don't think it is coincidence you arrived in my shop today. I've wanted so long to have a daughter of my own to share in these moment's with, but it was not to be. Please do not think me some kind of psychopath, for I am far from it."

Alexis moved over to a small wooden box covered by a large stack of fabric. She eschewed the fabric aside and opened the box carefully. Reaching in, she pulled something small from inside and grasped it in her palm firmly. "Lilly, I want you to have this also," she began softly, gentle tears forming in her eyes as she placed the gold chain and pendant into Lillian's hand and closed her palm, "it was my grandmother's, and as I have no daughter I hope you will accept it in her stead. And also--"

A pause turned into a lengthy silence followed by quiet sobs. "I'm so sorry," Alexis said through her tears, "I've always dreamed of a beautiful daughter, and when I have lost all hope you stroll into my shop. I...just...I guess if you would, I'd like to be a sort of surrogate mother for you. If you would have me." Alexis finished, wiping her tears from her eyes in a most delicate manner.

She kissed Lillian's forehead in an extremely frail, but gentle manner. The way a mother would a daughter. "And Lillian," she began as she concluded a little more comfortably, "I may not know you, but I know people. Inside your heart is something very good, and everything you receive in your life that is good is because you deserve it. Even these things." Alexis pointed to the dress, "if you wish, I could probably mend the dress up a little so it at least can hold up to the test of time a little longer. Free of charge, of course."

Alexis smiled. Relief was in the air.

[Ataraxis]

Lillian could not speak as the woman showered her with gift after gift, literally frozen stiff where she stood. Truthfully, she was at a loss for words, first because of the kind words of which she had felt so undeserving, then because the seamstress had now become as a doting parent. The gorgeous high heels she was given seemed out of place in her hands: she did not have the first idea of how to walk on what might as well have been stilts. Then was the beautiful gold pendant, its cold weight strangely comforting in her palm. What broke her heart, however, was seeing the woman crumble under the weight of her enthusiasm, tears flowing as the dam of her emotions finally broke after being kept in check for so long.

Quickly, she stepped forward for support, an action she respectfully declined. As the seamstress regained her composure, she wiped her tears and went to the little girl, kissing her on the forehead. It was Lillian’s turn to feel the tears brim, the memory of her own mother overwhelming her mind. There was something keeping her from accepting the woman’s words as truth, however, not because of a lack of trust or any suspicion in her motives, but because she had never been capable of finding herself worthy of anyone’s love. Her whole life, she had distanced herself with words like ‘colleagues’ or ‘allies’ or ‘acquaintances’. Friends had been few, and nearly all had died in some horrible manner, and so she decided never to get close again. That a person now wanted to take care of her, to be a mother… she could not take it.

“I… I can’t get close to anyone. Every time… it never ends well for them. I… I don’t want that to happen again. I just-”

Alexis pressed her palms against the girl’s cheeks, meeting her gaze. In her eyes, Lillian saw a kindness so familiar, the gentle chiding of a mother whose daughter was blaming herself for things beyond her power.

“I’m sorry for springing this up on you, darling,” Alexis said after a while. “You must think me daft for sounding so insistent. Please, think no more of it, but do keep these gifts. Nothing could make me happier.”

Timidly, Lillian nodded, managing a hint of a smile.

“And… if you would not mind… I have one final offer I would like to extend you. My home is close by: living near the store is much easier for business, after all. I would like you to come and sleep there tonight, and my friend and his aide would then pick you up in the morning.”

Lillian was not used to such kindness, and most of the time, her reasonable paranoia would have kicked in. However, she had always been a good judge of character, and knew Alexis had no harmful intent. “I planned on making lodging arrangements after returning from the bazaar… but I would be glad to stay.” Then, in a much lower voice, almost on the verge of tears, she whispered. “Thank you… so much.”