Table ♥ Nuki
OOC: Fail attempts at sewing and making things larger are fail. xD
The hotel was quiet and darkening, only the occasional flicker and dance from the fireplaces in the building proper offered any substantial light. A slender female figure gracefully padded through the overall shade of the place, occupying one of the rooms with a crackling flame dancing 'round at the mouth of it, the centerpiece of the tattered old space. She sat in a run down old relaxing chair, full of scratch marks and torn stuffing, attempting to add length to her old child's dress, once her favorite ornament in the style of a bandanna, now replaced by a faded checkered scarf. She knew very little about sewing, and though the young lady had located some yellow fabric in a nook of the dilapidated hotel, it wasn't a matching color for the gradiented piece... but at least she could try, right?
At the moment she was measuring out how much fabric she wanted to have draped over her lap as she sat, holding her breath with the old thing on her. Honestly, she was skinny at this age, but not that skinny. Finally reaching the point of no return, Sylvie took a sharp pocket knife she had found sitting in the kitchen one evening and cut the seams up to her chest, allowing aching lungs a chance to breathe. She would have to figure out how to resew the seam with new fabric too. As she went to remove the rest of the dress in favor of rescuing her ribs, a loud voice erupted from a nearby room.
Sylvie jumped in surprise as the sound rang out through the once silent hotel, echoing off of the usually noise-absorbent walls. Her torn dress ripped still farther up the one side, causing the lilac and white woman to narrow her eyes in distaste. Reverberations continued to sound off in her ears as the lilac and white beauty shook her head. What heaven's name was that all about? Curious, but wary, the french accented female padded her way out of the kitchen, taking a moment longer to find the source of the sound than the speaker might've liked. Tattered yellow dress clung tightly to soft curves, very obviously far too small for her to be wearing. "Gracious, must you be so loud? I should think you were already out of your mind..." Came soft, lilting words, her lovely french accent sprinkled liberally over her speech. She surveyed his sprawled out position upon the couch, partially intrigued, partially unsure. Honestly, what an unfitting position for a gentleman. But then again, her own appearance wasn't befitting of a young woman either. "Dieu, quel spectacle... Dare I ask what might warrant you going out of your mind?"
Sylvie knew not of what the bottle in his fist represented, who the fellow was, or if he had any idea who she was. Perhaps if he was a friend of Ruri's, he might realize she was the Dauphine's half-sister. A friend of Alaine's, and maybe he would notice she was much like that young female whelp the ivory and creme collie-woman had adopted. If not, well, it was no fur off her tail. Hands settled into fists upon delicately curved hips while a very Alaine-ish face settled upon pretty caramel and creme maw. Strange fellow this one was... but, as she remembered she was still wearing her nearly destroyed little sundress, she decided that his strangeness wouldn't have an affect on their conversation.
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