Vesper raises his hands in mock surrender, the peppermint bark shifting between his teeth as he offers Nova a grin sharp enough to cut fabric with. "Alright, alright—no black. But if I find glitter in my underwear again, I will retaliate. And don’t think I won’t find a way to dye your eyebrows." He points between them with lazy precision, eyes narrowing in faux-threat before softening again as they whirl toward the door.
He lifts a hand as they go, shadows curling contentedly along the floor behind him. "Don’t let her talk you into sequins on the benches!" he calls after them, knowing full well it’s already too late.
The fabric shop is a kaleidoscope of light and colour, sunlight streaming through a canopy of tangled bolts and casting rainbow patches across the floor. Shelves sag under the weight of woven options—leathers, velvets, waterproof blends, and glitter-infused brocades. The smell of dye and dust hangs thick in the air, mingled with the sharper tang of citrus oil someone’s been using to keep moths away.
Behind the counter stands a sharp-eyed woman of indeterminate age, with gold hoops in both ears and a cigarette tucked behind one of them. She’s barefoot, her toes inked with fading floral tattoos, and she doesn’t look like she suffers indecision—or fools—for long.
At first, the shop seems promising. One roll in particular, tucked high on a back shelf, catches the light just right—a deep navy velvet with faint silver thread stitched into a starburst pattern. It’s clearly aged, one of those rare finds that feels both luxurious and lived-in. Something that might’ve been tucked away from the days of old sea estates or long-forgotten inns. But just as it’s spotted, a tall man in a sleeveless vest strides in behind them, the heavy jangle of tools on his belt announcing him before his voice does.
He heads straight for the counter, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket.
"Here for that galaxy-print you promised to hold," he says to the merchant, nodding toward the same bolt on the shelf. "Told someone up in the Silk Houses I’d have it by tomorrow."
The merchant frowns faintly, eyes flicking from the man to the shelf, then to the two girls already browsing nearby, both of whom she'd seen eyeing the fabric. She just shrugs, tilts her chin toward the high shelf, and says, "S’pose whoever makes the better offer walks away with it."
Round 3
Someone wants the fabric that Caly and Nova have been eyeing! what to do!
He lifts a hand as they go, shadows curling contentedly along the floor behind him. "Don’t let her talk you into sequins on the benches!" he calls after them, knowing full well it’s already too late.
The fabric shop is a kaleidoscope of light and colour, sunlight streaming through a canopy of tangled bolts and casting rainbow patches across the floor. Shelves sag under the weight of woven options—leathers, velvets, waterproof blends, and glitter-infused brocades. The smell of dye and dust hangs thick in the air, mingled with the sharper tang of citrus oil someone’s been using to keep moths away.
Behind the counter stands a sharp-eyed woman of indeterminate age, with gold hoops in both ears and a cigarette tucked behind one of them. She’s barefoot, her toes inked with fading floral tattoos, and she doesn’t look like she suffers indecision—or fools—for long.
At first, the shop seems promising. One roll in particular, tucked high on a back shelf, catches the light just right—a deep navy velvet with faint silver thread stitched into a starburst pattern. It’s clearly aged, one of those rare finds that feels both luxurious and lived-in. Something that might’ve been tucked away from the days of old sea estates or long-forgotten inns. But just as it’s spotted, a tall man in a sleeveless vest strides in behind them, the heavy jangle of tools on his belt announcing him before his voice does.
He heads straight for the counter, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket.
"Here for that galaxy-print you promised to hold," he says to the merchant, nodding toward the same bolt on the shelf. "Told someone up in the Silk Houses I’d have it by tomorrow."
The merchant frowns faintly, eyes flicking from the man to the shelf, then to the two girls already browsing nearby, both of whom she'd seen eyeing the fabric. She just shrugs, tilts her chin toward the high shelf, and says, "S’pose whoever makes the better offer walks away with it."
Round 3
Someone wants the fabric that Caly and Nova have been eyeing! what to do!
I'm pedal to the metal make no mistake, this is my pity party, pity party
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke
& I'm living out of time, eternal heatstroke
☆ has a pale star tattoo beneath his left eye, and freckle-sized constellations move across his skin
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
