In all chaos there is a cosmos
Nova preened under Soh's gaze, lifting her head with pride and a bit of arrogance at the praise. She brightened even more when she was finally given permission to show what she could do, a bit of sparkles appearing around her head as she bounced in excitement. "Perfect! I'll meet you at the docks in the morning!" And once the skirt had been paid for, she piled it onto her wagon, giving an exuberant wave before hefting her weight into the handle, dragging it down the street as quickly as she could, eager to begin her work.
She sprinted forward, the sunrise catching Nova's carefully curated green bomber jacket. It fought off the morning chill from catching the exposed shoulders of her lighter green sundress. In her hands was a small bundle of blue fabric, and when she skid to a stop in front of Soh, she unraveled it in a flourish of fluttering material that caught in the breeze. "Here you go! Just the promised!"
Her beaming smile peeked around the skirt, watching for the Attuned's reaction to her work. Having more than an hour to work on it, she'd managed to give the illusion that delicate flowers were falling down the skirt, shaken from their stems to settle gently in piles at the hem. The white thread was woven like magic into the fabric, making it look like the petals were still falling, rustling in an invisible breeze. Nova thought it was some of her best work thus far.
She sprinted forward, the sunrise catching Nova's carefully curated green bomber jacket. It fought off the morning chill from catching the exposed shoulders of her lighter green sundress. In her hands was a small bundle of blue fabric, and when she skid to a stop in front of Soh, she unraveled it in a flourish of fluttering material that caught in the breeze. "Here you go! Just the promised!"
Her beaming smile peeked around the skirt, watching for the Attuned's reaction to her work. Having more than an hour to work on it, she'd managed to give the illusion that delicate flowers were falling down the skirt, shaken from their stems to settle gently in piles at the hem. The white thread was woven like magic into the fabric, making it look like the petals were still falling, rustling in an invisible breeze. Nova thought it was some of her best work thus far.
Nova
