Much less lethal threads [OPEN]

[Deleted]

As Karredy stepped into one of the common caverns, she caught a few of the Weyrfolks' heads flick up as she passed. Not because it was special for a Weyrwoman to walk around in her own Weyr, or because she was particularly stunning--though judging by the handful of visitors from the Southern mainland (especially the men), she definitely wasn't bad to look at after a long-awaited recovery.

The main issue was that this particular Weyrwoman had only been walking around consistently for the past two months. (And you could cut that down to the past few sevendays, if you only counted solid blocks of activity.)

Plus, it wasn't often that a goldrider had scissors, thread, and a few yards of plain muslin in a basket. Karredy's current outfit--a tunic and trousers of middling wool and cotton, well-embroidered for propriety with her Weyrwoman's knots--had no worn seams or threadbare patches, so she wouldn't need to touch a needle for a long time, if it was even her using it.

Karredy remembered--in the functional, dry way most of her memories outside of family and Zalmaranth had faded into--that she'd come here as a weaver, not a Candidate. And she'd been good at it, too. She'd sewn at least half of the trunkful of clothes in her weyr, after all: Gather gowns, everyday dresses and tunics, towels and cloaks, handkerchiefs...

"But that's if you bother to crochet for more than three days in a row," one of her masters had lamented. "Fabric won't do anything if you don't care about sewing it!"

Ask someone else, came Zalmaranth's voice from their weyr. You won't get much done in a day.

I just want to see what I remember. Karredy folded the muslin over and started cutting the main tunic out. It's been two Turns and I haven't done any sewing or weaver-craft. Unless it's my riding gear or your harness, and that's tanner-work.

Why bother? You don't need to.

But I want to. Karredy said, and sighed as she cast around for a tangible reason the Weyrwoman needed to sew. It's... it's good to keep in practice, Zal. I won't need to ask anyone to fix things for me.

That makes sense. Less asking meant less talking, after all, and Zalmaranth had hated the months of Karredy's illnesses as much because it meant Karredy relied on someone who wasn't her as for actual concern about her rider's health.

Just because Zalmaranth didn't like showing affection didn't mean it wasn't there. After all, she'd Impressed Karredy because Karredy had a healthy streak of stubbornness, and her not-death last Turn had only cemented that she wouldn't give up.

Not like Talera, she mused about the two goldriders' meeting a few days ago. But as with most emotions that weren't anger, Zalmaranth found it beneath her to GLOAT because that would mean she needed to prove something; her statement was mainly disapproving, though tinged with disappointment.

You pissed her off once, Zal. Karredy started sewing the test-tunic up with a basic running stitch. And it was my fault we had to talk in the first place. Presently, she sewed up the other side and checked it against her front.

Something wasn't right, she noticed immediately. Why was it so skinny and short? She'd checked all her measurements...

"...I forgot to add the seams," she realized in dismay.

Her eyes stung immediately. She knew this wasn't a bad mistake--that was why everyone made a test pattern, after all--but that was the problem. Karredy from two Turns ago had long passed the point of making novice errors like "sewing things inside-out" or "forgetting about seam allowances," and the fear surged up that she'd forgotten other things, too. Did she still remember crocheting and knitting? Not just the basics that half the Weyrhold's folk knew, but the elaborate lace-making stitches she'd learned from her masters?

You can learn things again if you want, Zalmaranth assured. Like everything else.

But Zal, I'm tired of that. She clenched her jaw and started snipping away at the seams, brown eyes almost black with nerves. (And tears. But she was trying REALLY hard not to cry.)

[kevna]

He stretched, leaning back in the chair, and rolling his shoulders back and forth. It had been a long morning, and he was glad it was finally afternoon. He had always enjoyed mornings on the fisher boats, enjoyed the twilight, that moment where night and morning kissed before night gave sway to the sun's warmth and strength. He imagined the stars fading, the pink and purple sky.

I would like to see that someday. Agureyth rumbled in his head, a sense of appreciation in his tone, as well as laziness. 

I thought you were sleeping.

Your memories are far more interesting then my dreams. Besides, I have an itch. 

But I just oiled you! He groaned out loud and rubbed his face, realizing he would have to get up from his very comfortable chair. It was the best one in the common room too! It was in the corner, mostly reserved from everything else, and in the perfect place to see and hear anyone entering the hall or approaching him. 

That's what you get for having the almost largest dragonet in the clutch. The reply was smug, and the young man felt another indulgent smile cross over his face as he imagined his bondmate rocking his head side to side and giving him that haughty look. 

I am not making that look. Tak'ril chuckled at the heated reaction to the vision. Right, right. He tried to keep the amusement out of his voice and stretched again. I AM NOT. 

Tak'ril held up his hands in surrender, not that his bondmate could see, but at least could sense his white flag. That's when she walked in. The Weyrwoman! He had never seen her so close, and he could she that with her bundle in her hands, she held also a sense of determination. His curiosity peaked, he sat back in his chair and watched as she laid out cloth and began working on it. 

She is weaving... The thought was more sad then he intended, as he pictured his mother, with her long curly brown hair salted with silver, bent over an old pair of his breeches, repairing one of many holes he had created from his one of his fishing expeditions... She misses you too. He blinked away the memory at the soft, intuitive thought his dragon sent his way, continuing to watch the Senior Weyrwoman bent over her mission. She seemed to be struggling.

I think she is going to cry. You should go over there. His dragon sounded concerned, seeing the bent over Werywoman with more wisdom for his age. 

No she's not. Takril stated, factually, obtuse to the stress she was having, and thinking he knew better than his young bonded. Yeah, I really think she is... At that he squinted, focusing on the woman, and realized his dragon was actually right... A pit in his stomach grew. There was nothing his dragon could say to get him to approach a Senior Werywoman. 

What do you think she could do with those scissors?

Oh shells. He swore, thinking of all the things a frustrated woman could do with scissors, and jumped to his feet. He approached the brunette, kneeling down in front of her. He reached out as if to help, then quickly withdrew them again. 

"Uh, err.."

Well say something. Agureyth took on an amused tone, gently prodding the young man.

"Uh, can I, uhh, help you with... Are you okay?"

Great, now not only did he feel stupid, but he sounded utterly useless and idiotic. 

@kiba

[Deleted]

kevna

Between arguing with her own dragon and the sudden, irrational fear that she didn't know how to weave anymore, Karredy had completely missed that one of the weyrlings was talking to her until he was right in her face.

"Oh! I... hello," she coughed. One of the bronze weyrlings, she noted from his knots. He was one of the younger group from Aerroth's newest clutch--the one that had lost three hatchlings, she recalled mournfully. "Tak'ril, is it?"

Did he come over because she was getting upset over a tunic, of all things? Another cough to stall for time, and Karredy brushed a dark curl back from where it had escaped.

"I'm... I'm fine, I was just testing this out," she told him feebly. "I came here as a weaver, not a Candidate, but after I Impressed Zalmaranth, I haven't had much time for sewing."

Especially not after I "died," came that ever-present thought. But she tried to smile anyway.

"Thanks for asking, though. Do you want to sit down? I won't bite."

[kevna]

Maybe you should take the scissors away from her... His dragon naively rumbled in his head. With an ever so slight shake of his head he replied silently, She's the Senior Weyrwoman, and a woman, I wouldn't dare. Plus, it looks like she's calming down. She seemed shocked, and it made him feel even more uncomfortable, but she collected herself quickly enough.

"Uh, right, yeah, Tak'ril." He affirmed awkwardly. "I'm.. Uh. Sure that it'll come back quicker than you think. I haven't had the chance for sailing since impressing Aureyth, my dragon, but if I've learned anything, muscle memory is more dependent than memory memory." His voice was hesitant, but he tried to make it reassuring. 

He debated her offer, he knew Agureyth needed to be oiled soon, and fed as well, but a little while later wouldn't hurt him any. 

In your opinion, maybe. His dragon grumbled. He sat upon the ground, ignoring the jab from his bonded. He gave the pieces of cloth on the floor a sideways glance, "So er, what are you weaving?"

[Deleted]

"I was making a tunic," she said. "And it's not even a tunic I'm going to wear, it's just the pattern for one." She sighed and poked at it. "I got the measurements wrong, so now it's too small."

If you wanted to get technical, she got the measurements right and forgot about the seam allowances; but then, most men didn't care about that unless they were weavers themselves.

She continued snipping away the thread, and then folded the sleeveless tunic back into a square. Just because it was too small for a tunic didn't mean she couldn't use it for something else later.

Then she checked back at Tak'ril; he wasn't sitting down and he was pretty fidgety, so Karredy wondered if he'd been doing something before he got distracted by her moping over a too-small tunic.

"Am I keeping you too long? You don't have to stay just because I'm the Weyrwoman," she assured. "Zalmaranth was difficult the minute she hatched--I haven't forgotten about being a new weyrling."

Of course she remembered everything; as soon as she'd been dug out of the ground, the healers had been quizzing her on Mavros, on Zalmaranth, on her family. After a few days of rest, they'd even done some basic tests to make sure she could speak and walk properly, to make sure she hadn't gotten any brain damage from her premature burial.

But the issue with her memories was feeling anything about it, she thought with a sinking feeling. If most of her memories were as good as dead and she could hardly get the motivation up to do things, what was the point in waking back up?

You woke up because you're strong, Zalmaranth told her.

I don't FEEL very strong, she admitted. That would need emotions, after all.

[kevna]

Oh that was too bad... Weaving was an unknown oddity to him, and he was grateful others could do it. Sure a hole here or there he could easily patch up, but making a whole tunic out of cloths, that could actually fit a specific individual, just sounded so sharding difficult. And time consuming. Which time was just a commodity he didn't really have with a young dragonet. He looked down at his breeches, which were looking a little sad, and made a note to stop by and pick up another pair after feeding Agureyth.  

He had settled into the floor quickly enough while the Senior Weyrwoman did her weaving, his body stiff and still with the discomfort of speaking to a stranger, and not just that, but to a woman...

You are going to have to get used to it. Women are everywhere.

His half smile was slightly in response to his dragons silent thought, and slightly in response to the Weyrwoman explaining how difficult her Queen had been as a hatchling. But wait... Had that been a dismissal?

Yes! I'm hungry, and this itch it growing. I can't reach it!

His dragon was starting to sound desperate... 

I am not desperate. 

"Yeah, Agureyth has been a handful, but I don't mind, I like to keep busy and be with him... I uh, guess I should head out, he's awake and in need of a good rubdown."

He didn't want to stay where he wasn't welcome. Plus, he probably shouldn't of interrupted her hard work. He used his thick, muscled arms to help push himself up off the floor, his long legs finishing the job clumsily and almost tripping him up. He brushed off his pants, and gave the Weyrwoman a respectful not and left at a slow jog from the common rooms, through the halls, towards his anxiously awaiting bonded. 

I am NOT anxious. 
   

[Deleted]

kevna

Oh, she'd been keeping him from his dragon, Karredy thought with a twinge of embarrassment. They were so possessive in the first few months; and the newly hatched Zalmaranth had lashed out at Gisellaine just for getting too close to her, after all. Karredy sighed and waved as Tak'ril left the commons.

"Thanks for saying hello, Tak'ril!" she called after him. "We can always talk again, if you have more time!"

Did she feel good or bad about the abrupt end to the conversation? It wasn't as disastrous as what happened with Talera--she and Takril had both been busy with something else, and that was nothing to feel bad about.

But she felt better at Tak'ril's reminder that muscle memory was harder to shake than mental memory; maybe she should start smaller with embroidery instead of making clothing, then.

She cut a square off the unfinished tunic and set it in an embroidery hoop.