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Tomix
The Hero of Falconreach, Riese, was no longer an unusual sight around Ravenloss. Though she did still stick out like a sore thumb, what with her impractically bright red Rogue leathers stark against Ravenloss’ drear and sun-touched skin and openly friendly smile even starker against the undercity’s gloom, Tomix found there was something almost comforting about how much she contrasted the undercity.
“…Happy Frostval?”
Now even more than before.
A bright red hat had joined her ensemble, her feathery brown hair now topped with a floppy red hat with a white fur trim, a fuzzy white pom-pom adorning the pointy tip, as well as a matching white fur trimmed red cape. The little dragon always following her around wore a similar hat, though the red of its own hat seemed dull in comparison. The chill in the air told him it was winter aboveground so the additions to her usual gear could all just be for practical reasons but that didn’t feel quite right, his friend had never been bothered by the cold before…
“Yeah! Guess you didn’t know but it’s a holiday around these parts. Happens around winter. It’s a tradition to give your friends gifts for Frostval—though don’t feel obliged or anything,” she added as she pulled out a package from apparently nowhere, one somewhat haphazardly wrapped in brilliant green paper embossed with a pattern of golden daggers, and placed it into his unready hands. “It's all for fun. It's just that Frostval was actually started in my honor so I feel more obliged to follow tradition.”
Setting aside how his friend surprisingly unsurprisingly had a holiday in her honor, he carefully undid the wrapping paper, the cheerful packaging stark against the dreary surroundings. Inside was a thick woollen scarf in a shade of purple not unlike the gems on the spirit-looms he wielded. A small metal charm gleamed near one end, one in the shape of the soul-needles (or soul claws, as he liked to call them) that manifested on his looms.
“This is…nice.”
He examined the gift between his hands. As used to as he is to soulweave, this seemed to be of good quality. There was a good thickness to the knit. The fabric he could feel through the gaps of his looms was soft and fluffy. Good quality yarn. There was a good amount of stretch to the fabric as well, stretch that he vaguely remembered spoke of quality among knitwear. But there was something else, something…
“…Did you make this yourself?”
“Mhm. Didn’t have much time, what with everything that’s been going on, but I thought it came out pretty well, if I do say so myself.”
The stitches were neat, even, and tight. There was a good thickness to the scarf. The little soul-needle charm was a perfect replica of his soul claws. The color was just right for what he usually wore. It was nice.
“Didn’t know you knit.”
“I do a lot of different kinds of needlework when I’ve got the time. It's good exercise for the fingers, helps keep ‘em nimble for my lockpicking and knifethrowing, plus it’s a good skill to have if I ever get an injury that a potion can’t handle by itself. Also, it’s relaxing, knitting, embroidering…”
He delicately unfolded the scarf, admiring the rows of neat, even stitches. Holding it up at level with the top of his head, he found it was actually as long as he was tall. While he was unfamiliar with how long knitting usually took, this couldn’t have been a quick job. This took time. Real time. In between all the work she did as a Hero and adventurer, in between assisting him in the hunt for the Gate Keys, she had knit this, along with however many other gifts she planned to give out for this ‘Frostval’.
It really was nice.
“Besides, I don’t have a Dragon Amulet or anything, but I’m positive my baby dragon likes it, too. I made the little guy a matching hat as a joke and now he refuses to take it off. It’s really cute but it’s starting to smell bad.”
He carefully folded the scarf in two, taking care so that not a stitch would get caught in his looms. It really was a very nice scarf. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d received such a gift from someone unrelated to him.
“‘Course I’m sure that’s not normally an issue for you, given soulweave doesn’t stain but…oh. Oh, no…”
He slung the scarf over his neck and was immediately struck by how soft and fluffy it felt against his skin. It really was very well-made. With care, as well. It was clearly by intent that it went so well with his Soulweaver’s garb. He pulled the length of it taut against the skin of his neck and felt a smile touch his face.
“Why did I decide to give you of all people a scarf? You’re a Soulweaver, you can make a scarf that never gets dirty and changes color whenever you want and—and never pills!”
He didn’t speak; he was busily and carefully winding the length of his new scarf around his neck, taking care to make sure the little metal charm was prominent over his chest.
“…ugh, I’m so embarrassed. I’m gonna…I’m gonna deliver the rest of the gifts, tell me when you find out the location of the next Key, alright? Bye, Tomix…”
Just as she slumped dejectedly back over to the portal back to Falconreach, Tomix pulled the scarf up over his nose and smiled into the soft knit.
“…It’s so warm.”
Danyel
If he were to be honest, Danyel felt… ashamed for how he had acted towards the Hero during the funeral.
From the letters his brother had written to their mother and sister, Danyel knew that this Hero of the Land of Dragons had been a good friend to his brother, one who had stuck with him through thick and thin, and whom his brother had regarded with utmost respect. That she had been unable to fulfill what Danyel had known well in advance was an unfair promise did not change those facts. That he had blamed her at all for the events that had transpired, knowing exactly what he did, was…
Unworthy. Unfair. Beyond unfair. He could say he was grieving (and he was, always would) but that did not excuse his actions.
Now, however, given that they were past that initial awkward interaction, he found himself rather relieved with her request. She had come as a client, seeking garments worthy of a royal event capable of obscuring armor or some other form of battle outfit, seeking his talents as a Soulweaver and nothing else.
This was the field in which he most thrived.
Beyond that, this presented an opportunity. While he was unsure as to the culture the Land of Dragons had surrounding its Heroes, much less the kingdom of Greenguard specifically, having a famous Hero for a client could not be a bad thing. While he would not charge for this request, in part as an apology for his words prior, in part as thanks for her having been his brother’s friend, any others going forward would be. And even if she never commissioned anything again, someone of her renown wearing his work to a royal event was already better endorsement than anything he could pay for, all without his ever having to set foot in such foreign land…even if part of him did wish to visit, just to visit—
—He had a client. He ought to focus, lest any of his students think him the sort to shirk one of the most basic tenets of any sort of craftsman: clients first.
“Now, let me take a closer look at you…”
He looked over her with a critical eye. Her current clothing was bulky and hid her build but heroic types all tended toward athletic builds and she didn’t seem much different. The only visible accessory she had on her person was a dangling dragon earring—a Dragon Amulet or somesuch, something that seemed to be of cultural significance in the Land of Dragons and therefore told nothing of how she would accessorize for the occasion…no matter, he would use a design that would befit a royal occasion regardless of additional ornamentation.
“Hmm.”
Medium brown hair, dark gray eyes, medium tan skin surprisingly absent of scars for someone of her profession, no cosmetics save a bit of mascara, decent enough facial structure that assuming she would prepare for a royal event in which she would attend as a guest and not strictly as part of security, something suitable would be…
“Yes, I believe I have some designs in mind that will be adequate.”
A long dress with detached sleeves or perhaps a suit with epaulettes, with gold accents given the ‘royal’ occasion, either would suit and he would make both. Bright red was his first instinct on a color that would suit someone with her coloring, perhaps with charcoal trim, but he would make clothing that would color itself according to her will regardless. Far be it for him to dictate what colors his clients wear, regardless of how ill-suited their choices often were for their complexion. Making such clothing able to obscure armor would be simplicity itself for one who had reached the rank of Headmaster, whether a full suit of plate as she’d worn when they’d first met or her current garb of—
His eyes narrowed. A long overcoat trimmed with fur about the collar over dark clothing not unlike those his students downstairs wore, all clearly soulwoven to his practiced eye. Good variety of textures, all used tastefully, nice implementation of non-soulwoven materials, decent structuring…
…the coat was rather tattery at the end but…
He thought he recognized the make of it.
“Your clothes,” he said suddenly. “They’re soulweave.”
She blinked. Her eyes seemed to darken and her mouth seemed to tighten before she let out a breath, one she seemed to have to force out, though the smile she gave afterwards appeared genuine. If a bit sad. “Yeah,” she said. As she spoke, the little dragon accompanying her skittered up onto her shoulder and nuzzled her cheek. “Tomix gave them to me. Frostval gift, he said. Frostval’s a…holiday around Greenguard.”
“…I see.”
He did not care to meet her eyes then. Right now, he was a Soulweaver and she, a client. There was nothing more they needed to discuss.
“Weaving will take time, and I prefer to work alone, without anyone looking over my shoulder,” he heard himself say even as his gaze was inexorably drawn to the old family portrait hanging high above, looming constantly over his shoulder. “You may go.”
“…Are you okay?”
He found that the Hero was looking at him, as was her elven friend, though the little dragon at least was not. There was concern in her eyes. Understanding, as well.
He misliked the sight of both.
“—Tell me where the clothes should be delivered and I will make sure you get them,” he said brusquely. Perhaps more than was proper for dealing with a client but— “I shall have my Soul-Ally deliver them. As much as I'd like to visit again…I am kept quite busy here in Edelia.”
He didn’t quite hear the trio’s farewells, nor even his own response, so lost was he in thought, nor did he quite notice when they’d finally all departed. He had duties he should by all means return to. There was no end to the demands on a Headmaster’s time, especially during so busy a time as the Edelian final exams. One wherein his own sister was to be tested, no less. All the same, he stood still in the quiet of his office. Thinking. Remembering.
The gauntlets she wore. The soul-needles (soul claws, he remembered childish voices once calling them) were inactive but he was willing to wager they were spirit-looms in the style those who had earned the title of ‘Master Soulweaver’ wore. He owned a set of similar ones himself.
…the handiwork was similarly familiar.
That Hero, Riese, had not attained the right to wear such spirit-looms, not under the laws of Edelia. As Headmaster, he was within his right…no, he was obligated to confiscate them; those unrecognized by Edelia wielding such equipment was tantamount to impersonating a true Edelian Master Soulweaver, risking the very integrity of the name of Edelian quality. The clothes she wore alongside those looms alone already chanced risking Edelia’s name; they were decidedly not made in line with the current standards as set by the Weaving Council, even if, on the whole, speaking purely objectively, in his professional opinion, the make of them…the make of them was…
Danyel closed his eyes, lowered his head, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed.
“…It’s not bad,” Danyel admitted into the stillness. “It’s…decent work, Tomix.”
Katia
Her brother had written to her a lot about his adventures over the years, from details about the sights he’d seen on his travels, to his struggles against the Corrupted Elemental Spirits, and to all the people he’d met on his journey. One of those was the Hero of Falconreach, Riese, who he always spoke very highly of, both as a friend and as a Hero worth the distinction of a capital letter.
One thing he never mentioned was that she was a darn good host.
It wasn’t planned or anything. They just happened to run into each other while visiting her Tomix's grave. This wasn’t the first time that this happened but since their operation in the Nic Paradigm, they’d gotten pretty friendly with each other. So much so that when Katia mentioned wanting to grab a bite after, Riese was quick to invite her over to her house for a meal, which Katia had been happy to oblige.
And as it turned out, her meals were good. She had no idea what ‘zard burgers’ were but they were delicious, as was moglinberry juice. There were cookies, too, homemade with dark cocoa nibs, which were crazy tasty. All that, plus an invitation to spend the night, no charge (“You’re a friend! Stay the night, I insist.”) and this was one of the nicest nights she’d had in…
A long time, honestly. After… everything her family had been through the past few years, a quiet night at a new friend’s place after a good meal was just wonderful.
After the meal was done, while her new friend was still busy cooking because her dragon was apparently still hungry (for a tiny thing, it had a serious appetite), Katia explored the house. It wasn’t like Riese said anything about not being allowed to explore, after all…
It was there that she found a truly impressive workshop, one fit to put any blacksmith to shame. Rows and rows of armor and battle outfits lined the walls (she thought she even spied some soulweave among the motley of gear). Various different bits and bobs from different kinds of armor were scattered amidst the many work benches. A ludicrously elaborate scythe was propped up next to one of the many grinding wheels. Three different pairs of pauldrons sat in a line on an anvil next to the truly massive forge. One wall was—
Here, Katia paused. On this wall of the workshop were spirit-looms. A whole bunch, in a variety of different designs…
“Do you like them?” Riese said. Katia gave a bit of a start as she realized that her host was standing right behind her, still in most of her class gear (Era, was it? Something time-related that started with an ‘E’, anyway), but with the gauntlet off and no weapon to be seen. “Made them all myself.”
“Really?” She whistled as she looked at them all with new appreciation. “Wow. These are all really nice!”
Riese looked pleased. “Why, thank you. I’ve gotten really into customizing my armors and battle outfits lately. These’re all the looms I made to match with my Soulweaver clothes.”
“Oh. That’s…nice…”
Katia was not going to comment on the Soulweaver clothes she’d seen. She just wasn’t. She would not. That was going after low-hanging fruit. No, that was going after fruit that was already on the ground. Katia was a recognized Soulweaver of Edelia, hailing from a storied lineage with roots dating all the way back to the First Weaver. She spent years learning the art of soulweaving from Master Soulweavers known throughout the continent for their expert crafts and had graduated from the first and finest school of soulweaving in all the land.
Riese, on the other hand, had learned from Katia’s big brother, Tomix. Katia loved her big brother, she really did, but he was expelled as a kid, before he could learn much of anything at Edelia.
And he was the one to teach Riese how to “soulweave”.
If you took that all into consideration, it was probably miraculous her uniform was as…’put-together’ as it was. Maybe even a mark of potential; with professional teaching, her soulweave probably wouldn’t be so freakin’ tragic, seriously, what was with that weird seaming, did she actually just patchwork different weaves together because that would be just—
“—your smithing is really good!”
Her spirit-looms really were all very nice. Professional, even. As good as any you’d find in Edelia, maybe even better.
“Thanks! See, blacksmithing runs in my family. Ma’s a smith, grandda’s a smith, my uncles and aunts are smiths…anyway, all that’s to say, I’ve always been comfortable around a forge. It comes in real handy, since it means I can service all my gear myself. Plus, I’ve never done any Warrior training but all my smithing’s gotten me real good with a hammer.”
“Oh, I’ll bet.”
With her gauntlet depowered, her class gear as an E-something (Epoch, maybe? No, Eon?) showed off a lot of her physique. Her very nice physique.
Those biceps …
Those probably weren’t what her brother meant when he’d written of his Hero friend but those were definitely what she’d seen in her…
Riese didn’t seem to notice. She’d stopped by a set of spirit-looms hanging separately from the ones Katia had been looking at, a set identical to the ones Katia herself wore. Long gauntlets that fully encompassed the hands and reached well past the elbow, with butterfly-shaped panels above where the gems were embedded. “These’re the only ones I didn’t make,” she told her, looking fondly at the looms. “These, your brother made for me. Frostval gift, he said. Though ‘defrosting gift’ might be more accurate…”
“…yeah, I can see that.”
The craftsmanship on those was familiar. They were made just like hers were. Exactly like hers, in fact.
It was bittersweet, looking at them. Forging spirit-looms was something you learned before you entered Edelia. She wondered if he was thinking of the same things she did while making them. When he’d been making these looms, did he imagine he was back home, their mother’s instructions playing out in the back of his mind as he worked the forge? Did he think of Mortem as he planned out these looms or—
Another set of looms suddenly caught her eye. She took one off the wall almost without thinking, examining it from every angle. It was a set just like the ones Riese had pointed out to her, only…
“Shiny…” she murmured, turning over the glittering loom in her hands, admiring the way the torchlight glinted off of the gilded white looms. “The color is beautiful.”
“Isn’t it just?” Riese seemed pleased. “I modeled those after these ones,” she said, patting the looms Tomix had made for her before turning to face her, looking fondly over at the loom in Katia’s hands. “Dunno why but while I was doing maintenance one day, I suddenly thought a set in gold and ivory’d look real pretty.”
“They are, they really are,” she assured her, turning over the gleaming spirit-loom in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship of the piece. Save for the coloring, they looked just like the ones she herself wore. They were inactive but she could tell the soul-needles (soul claws, her brother called them) they’d manifest would be like hers. “They’re…”
For some inexplicable reason, she thought of her other brother, their oldest brother, as she looked at her reflection in the looms of polished ivory and gold.
“…Fit for a Headmaster.”