zephyr
"Neither'm I, most times, but ya learn t'adapt." It is a very diplomatic way of saying cry me a river, but it's softened by the hint of a smile that crinkles the edges of your eyes. He's the governor now, and he needs to learn his shit fast if he doesn't want to wind up sinking to the bottom of the harbor. And normally you might not care to help, but... well.
You can't help it: you snort a laugh as he declares his lack of plan. "So standard, then." Falling back to silence, you continue to work on your own doll, trying and failing not to notice how he's hopelessly stabbing his poor fabric with all the grace of a pelican learning to ice skate. Artist that you are, it hurts to watch, and so at last you set your own work aside, reaching gruffly for his.
"Here. I'mma teach ya the most basic fuckin' stitch in the book, 'fore you turn your fingers into more'uv'a pincushion." So saying, you pull a scrap of fabric from your own bag and set the needle and thread to it. Slowly, with a good deal of patience, you demonstrate how to backstitch, a straight and even row of adjoining dashes appearing on the linen.
You can't help it: you snort a laugh as he declares his lack of plan. "So standard, then." Falling back to silence, you continue to work on your own doll, trying and failing not to notice how he's hopelessly stabbing his poor fabric with all the grace of a pelican learning to ice skate. Artist that you are, it hurts to watch, and so at last you set your own work aside, reaching gruffly for his.
"Here. I'mma teach ya the most basic fuckin' stitch in the book, 'fore you turn your fingers into more'uv'a pincushion." So saying, you pull a scrap of fabric from your own bag and set the needle and thread to it. Slowly, with a good deal of patience, you demonstrate how to backstitch, a straight and even row of adjoining dashes appearing on the linen.
give your heart to a wanderer
who found your soul and called it home
who found your soul and called it home
