1070
A bit on the long side, though I think that's fine! Also, if a leader of the pack doesn't like that I've taken up a room in the hotel, please tell me so I can change it.



A room on the first floor of the hotel had been taken over. It had housed a nice, once nice actually, dinner table, which had been dusty once and covered with old piles of dishes and a few assorted books. Those, the redhead had taken to another room and unceremonious dumped into another room, forsaking the half empty bookshelf to let the stuff lie on the floor. His discretion only pertained to putting the plates down gently in a cloud of dust as the stuff escaped the confines between the pages of the book as well as between two tomes. He'd found a rag to clean off the debris off the table and to clean the room. This room would be Strelein von Rosnete's work room and he needed it to be spic and span or else there would be dirty clothing made. Now that would be bad workmanship. No one would want clothes made specially for them with marks and streaks already on it, as though it had been returned and then sold again at a cheaper price. That would simply never do; Strel did not have a reputation yet for his craftsmanship, and to start out with a negative one would ruin him from the start.


Now the room had organized piles of work in progress as well as scraps of cloth and bits of old human clothing. A full pile of shirts sat on the floor in the corner, all of them the same color. Upright against one wall was a full bolt of blue cloth which would need a good wash since there were stains of time and dust on its surface. He would wash it when it wasn't so cold, most likely leaving there for a few months until the weather grew warmer. Boiling a vat of water seemed a bit too difficult to bother with, especially since it was so much easier to just use the cloth scraps he found. On the old, brass chandelier decorated with silver and brass filigree hung ribbons and a strip of cloth embedded with needles found in Halifax. They were attached to the chandelier to the little loops where once plastic gems hung with fishing hooks simply because it was easier. There were metal chains of large paperclips, on which the bobbins of thread hung within easy reach, organized by color families. He did not want to clutter up the room with big pieces of furniture, so he had utilized the things already there to the best of his ability.


The wallpaper was a bit outdated, red and gold roses gilded with a faux silver foil running up and down the walls in a pattern all the way around the room. It was peeling in a few places as well and there were water stains here and there. But overall it was a good room with two big windows with recently fixed panes to provide strong light during the day. It would be best in the morning as it faced east and sunshine drenched the room with a fine golden winter light. They were always kept clean and clear as well, to maximize the potential light on the large chair that stood by the glass.


That was where Strelein sat, absorbed in a piece he was working on as a trade for Rurik in exchange for more drink, or even just as a gift for the first bottle of alcohol. Scissors lay on the table where the remains of a pair of synthetic pants lay. In his hands was a strange combination of jean material and the synthetic black. Everything from the belt down to halfway down the thigh was made of the jeans, which had been half tatters when they had been discovered.
Now they were a more stylish, or so Strel thought, pair without the ragged edges of the pants remaining. Strel delicately sewed the second, and final, leg. The material he sewed in with a silver thread, thinking the gray wolf would appreciate the homage to his fur color. The reason for the material was simply because Strel had not worked with almost full length pant legs, having always stopped at the knee or above on his own pairs. When giving the pair to the man, he planned to have some scissors, a needle, and thread to do some alterations on the spot.



Biting off the string, the redhead shook out the garment and observed what needed to be fixed right then and there. Nothing seemed out of place and the stitching seemed neat albeit a bit decorative. A grin was plastered on his face as he stood, draping the thing on the chair gently, reveling at the way it turned out. The violet eyes set in his head gazed at the garment a final time before turning to face the table of supplies. The bobbin he stuck on the proper paperclip on the black to white chain of paperclips. Then, reaching up to jab the needle into the cloth strip, he managed to get it unhooked from the chandelier.


It fell with an audible clunk on the edge of the table before slipping off table's edge onto the hardwood flooring with a second thunk. "Damnit," he mumbled, bending over to pick it up. The moment it was in his hand, he shot his head up, hitting the edge of the table. Strelein yelped out loud, dropping the needles at once. He practically howled, crying as the bruise that had formed a few days past formed on his noggin throbbed in pain from being struck. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to move over a bit.


Now he cried out, rather loudly as he felt a few needles stick themselves into his foot when he trod the cloth. This time he did let out a howl, gently lowering him down on the ground by the window, head back against the window sill. Leg pulled up, Strel crossed it across his raised knee. The needles had come free of the cloth, digging into the pads of his feet. There were five of them there, stuck rather deep considering they were thin and small. Strel was not sure whether or not he could pull them out on his own after trying to pull a single one out. It stung as he pulled at it and he stopped immediately, tears welling up further in his eyes.

OOC: :] Yay! You didn't specify a time of day, so I hope you don't mind that I did XP
EDITED, to take out the electricity + time XD

She'd returned late this afternoon, with two rabbits slung over her back and a tired shadow in the deep pools of her emerald eyes. The hotel had a different scent invading it's chambers, and the first thing Alaine had done was to check on her two children. Caillen, her son, was curled up in a fitful sleep beside his new companion, a scruffy little girl Alaine had plucked from the jaws of death a full moon ago. Hesitating in the doorway to their room a moment, the too-young mother let a soft smile grace her maw, before she shut the old wooden door softly and continued down the hall. There were sounds of scuffling in on of the unused rooms, and she peeked in on her way to the kitchen. A young man sat with his back to her, bent over something. The cream collie-girl hesitated a moment, but decided to let the new inhabitant to his own and continued onwards.


The tiles in the kitchen were cracking, but their pearly hue was still welcoming. What little light filtered through stained windows was weak, so the healer fumbled to light an old wicker candle. Soft light bathed the room, highlighting a worn bench and some cooking implements she had managed to scrounge in the past few weeks, since her arrival in the Cour des Miracles pack. Though food was often eaten raw, Alaine found that she preferred it cooked, even if crudely. Besides, much less went to waste when one prepared a meal properly. Scattering a few herbs, the young woman lit the cooking-fire and let out sigh of pleasure as it battled back the icy edge to the air.


She set about working, removing the heads of the rabbits with her claws and teeth, hanging them over a sink to let the blood ooze into a bucket before cleansing the red liquid from herself. Just as she began to prepare a salt preservative to treat the meat, a loud thump echoed through the hall. Head jolted up, eyes narrowing in suspicion as she wiped her clawed palms on the front of the soft green garment she wore, and took a step towards the doorway.


The step quickly became a hasty jog as a mournful howl rose from the room, as both slender brows rose in a mixture of concern and curiosity. What on earth was going on?


" Please, sir, you'll wake the chil-"


The young woman paused like a doe in the doorway, wide inverted eyes of soft jade and piercing emerald drinking in the scene in faltering silence. The young man she'd observed before was now reclining aside the window, his head tilted back in a groan, one foot glittering with long silver objects she recognized instantaneously as needles. He had a shock of bright red hair, outshining even her own unruly auburn curls. Her chocked expression drew into one of confusion as she noted the clothing spread out about him, the reels of thread... And then, one ivory hand flitted up to her maw to stifle a soft giggle, round eyes suddenly warming as she realized what had probably happened.


Disguising the laugh with a soft sound of concern, the young lady slipped forwards to hover over the slouched figure. Her healing mind winced at the wells of blood that had began to bubble about the pricks in his footpaws; Though not a grievous wound, it must surely have hurt a tonne!


" Sir? Are you alright?" The question was offered more just to check if he had any other wounds, not to merely ask of the obvious, and she continued haltingly, " I... I'm a healer, not to fret. I can have these out of your foot in a jiffy, if you'll hold still."



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524
It was actually sometime in the early afternoon since they have no electric light. Or electricity :o.



Strelein whined, trying to examine the needles further, testing each one with a slight jab. Naturally it seemed like all five were embedded as deep as the first, which meant it hurt enough to warrant a grunt of pain. He held his foot, trying to find a way to limit the blood flow. Blood beaded where the heads of the needles were. One or two ran down his foot and dripped onto the hardwood flooring. Strel bit at his lip, feeling his hands shaking at the pain. Now how did this happen? What had driven him to not look where he was walking, let along leave the needles on the ground where he could very clearly step on them? There was no use at crying over spilled milk, but this spilled milk hurt badly.


Glancing up at the words though blurry eyes, Strel blinked to see more clearly who it was. Once he could make out the woman, for now he saw it was a she, he noted the stains on her shirt. Probably blood. Putting it out of his mind, he listened to her question. He absently shook his head, knowing fully well that she probably had to say that. They always did. His parents always did whenever he fell or tripped, even if they knew what was wrong with him. The woman could plainly see what it was that pained him so, so he deigned not even answer her question. Looking back down at the blood drops on the floor and the streams on his pads, Strel winced as he shifted his body a bit, jostling the needles with his thumb.


"I'm not about to get much worse," he confirmed, though he let out a whine. Strel moved his head back against the wall, head spinning a bit. Pain was a big enemy of Strel's. He always hated getting hurt once he became an 'adult'. Or, rather, adult aged. Even now he tried to minimize his risk of pain. That was probably why he sewed and plucked at a string instrument instead of doing something like woodworking or horseback riding. Quite a weakling was the redhead. So here he sat among his cloth, bobbins, and needles.


Grimacing briefly, Strel gave a weak smile at Alaine. "I don't really think I can get up and walk away now, unless I plan to run away from you on one foot." He waved her over, hoping she would help him soon, since he really did not want to have those silvery needles stuck in his pad any longer. Better to get rid of the pain rather than wait for him to get used to it and then feel it all over again when they were pulled. "I'm Strel by the way, miss." It was a rather strange way of getting to know someone new; have them help him heal. Of course the accident had been his own stupid error, but that was beside the point. To think he did not know this woman who was in his own pack, and from the looks of it, stayed in the hotel as well. How was that possible?

OOC: Edited my last post XD <3

He really was a sight for sore eyes, openly weeping like that, clutching at his foot as if it would surely fall off. Though the tickle of laughter stirred in her throat again, Alaine silenced it with professional ease, her own soft jade eyes checking his face for any signs of shock. That was more dangerous than the current situation - She didn't want an unconscious unknown male, bleeding about on her floor. Thankfully, when his eyes lifted to hers the pupils were dilated, and the connection of his gaze was strong. At the stranger's words, she shrugged at the offhand sarcasm, before stepping forward and crouching down to observe the wound.


" I wouldn't make jest of it, Sir. I've seen how fast some sorts can hop."


She smiled at him brightly, emerald eyes peering up at the young man's face from beneath their curtain of lashes, before she set back to observing the wound. He held it up high, and her soft, cool fingers gently began to pry his away, such that he might lie the leg straight on the ground. She then sat crosslegged, taking his poorly footpaw in her lap to keep it slightly elevated. When the poor sod introduced himself, she glance up again, and managed another calm smile.


" It is a pleasure to meet you, Strel, though perhaps might have been more so under different circumstances," Her accented tone remained light and friendly, as she didn't want him tensing up or starting to stress now, " I'm Alaine Winters, though nobody much remembers my surname."


The old shirt she'd been wearing was now stained with his blood, too, and the young woman huffed softly under her breath. It was an old, ratty thing, anyway. Grabbing it firmly within both paws, she bit as a corner of the material until it ripped, and then tore of a neat strip of fabric from the already ruined garment. She folded it into a neat pad, and placed that beside her on the floor. Emerald eyes flitted up and she offered Strel a pretty smile, hoping to keep him talking and distracted... She was going to have to remove the pins individually.


" So, Strel, why don't you tell me a little about yourself? You smell of the pack, so surely you are a member... What were you doing in here, anyway? I'm about to pull these out of your foot, just stay relaxed. Were you sewing? My mother used to sew. On the count of three, now... One, two,"


Her words became a stream of lyrical questions, aimed to rib his mind of it's concentration on his wounds. It was clear from her musical accent that Alaine was not from these parts, and the cream collie-woman spoke the common language as a second one. She did not wait till the count of three to remove the first pin, but rather tugged it sharply on two, feeling the muscle in his foot relent as the small object slid free of it's bloody sheath. Quickly, she grabbed the pad of material to stem the small flow of blood, wincing as she knew of the pain that must have come.



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586
sorry for the inconvenience, Alaine D:


Were the redhead in any form of sensibility, he would have pouted at the woman and told her off for laughing at his pain. He would reprimand her, sniffling at in the meanwhile. What a little pup this man was whenever something pierced his flesh or happened to leave a light cut beneath the layer of thick winter fur. Strelein was thankful that he had taken up sewing instead of anything particularly dangerous. Like cliff diving, or carpentry, or cooking. One dealt with heights, which he was afraid of. One dealt with heavy, thumb-hurting objects. And one dealt mostly with fire and knives. It seemed all the things that sound fun and exciting were nothing but a maelstrom of danger for the lanky male. All of those he could not do anyway; his inability to swim well in the ocean made the first hard; his inability to constantly hammer or saw without gaining aching limbs and deep splinters made the second hard; fire and the overall heat of it, while pleasant, was a constant threat for burns. Strel was useful in only a few things, but at least he could do them.


"But I am no jackrabbit, Madam," he countered, grinning lopsidedly at her. His fingers trembled as the woman brought them away from the wound, not so very grave as it seemed. She did not react in terror-filled shock, though she did seem entertained by the rather large amount of caterwauling he was doing. Alaine seemed experience in this enough to give him a smile to help reassure him, and reassured he was. There seemed to be confidence in her face and her motions, though where she got such a thing he did not know. Strelein cocked his head at the new woman, watching her facial expressions with mild interest. "Why would they? Your first name is pretty enough to let us poor folk forget about the last one. Besides, winter is horribly cold," he added, knowing full well how blatantly obvious it was that in the winter months, it was far chillier than the summer.


At the sound of the fabric ripping, Strel winced. The garment had been old, he had seen, but the treatment was rather harsh. Sure it was dirty, but that was no reason to simply rip it into strands! "Now why would you do that?" he cried, eyes widening in shock at her. There were plenty of useless scraps of cloth on the table, but he supposed he had not mentioned it to her so she would not have known. He huffed, mimicking her as he crossed his arms like a child denied of a treat.


"Oh yes, I sew. Those aren't some voodoo needles in my oh so dainty foot." Strel sighed, hoping that the needles could be washed of blood. It had not been terribly hard to find the packet of them, but he was not sure how easy it would be to find more if these were ruined completely. "See I was making this gift for a friend of mine, new friend. And I wanted to give him a gift for the - OW!" he cried out, having not noticed her really getting ready to yank out one of the cursed metallic needles. He hissed out the air that remained in his lungs, shaking his head slightly. "Please tell me that was all of them," he forced his upper lip to quiver at his words, a dramatic expression with no real matching emotion to go with it.

OOC: bah, not a problem, dear! <3

His banter was genuine, and she'd offered a soft laugh to each reply, even blushing slightly at his retort to her name. The poor fellow may have been a bit of a wimp, but he had more than enough charm to ooze around such a flaw of character. It seemed that his pain brought forth a surprising mixture of sarcasm, humor and bitterness, which surprised the young healer as much as it amused her. She'd doctored all manner of patients - the silent ones, whom sat grinding their teeth till the dirty work was through; The howlers, who made all sorts of crude noises but none legible nor intelligent; even the masochistic, who sniffed at the thought of a healer's help but had pain enough brimming in their sneers. But this Mr Strel, he was a unique one, to be sure.


Unfortunately, unique was really not enough to save him the pain. After pulling out the first needle he seemed to recoil, the sharp bark of pain and the gritted sentence enough to have her own features cringing in sympathy. This was going to be more difficult than she'd first assumed.


" Well, Sir... Almost. There are only a few to go..." The white lie felt bitter on her tongue. Four, the poor sod. Four left to go, " But stay calm, now. They'll be out before you know it."


She pressed the wad of material against the first wound until the bleeding slowed, then slowly retrieved it, careful to keep the ruby-dashed scrap out of his line of vision. It would not do for her to have a catatonic mess going on here, not with all these potential hazards scattered around the room. She settled her gaze on the next needles, for two were clumped rather close together, and began to gently massage the paw around it, cautious not to apply too much pressure. Her eyes lifted to Strel's once more, and she forced the calm, merry facade to blanket pretty features again.


" Tell me more about this new friend of yours, Sir. You were making him a gift? How generous!"


As she spoke, the young healer gently soothed his paw, making circular motions with her fingers over the flesh. Each circle brought her just a little bit closer to the pair of offending tools, but she continued to gift him with a warm smile, those strange inverted eyes constantly checking the dilation of his pupils for signs of shock. What a curious sort this Mr Strel was! Momentarily distracted, she let her eyes caress the room, soaking up the odd assortment of materials and items that littered it. Sewing indeed!


" Might I ask, do you do this often? I myself am in need of some clothing, and though I've little to trade, I'm sure I could find something..."


She paused for the briefest moment, her eyes flecked with peculiar interest, her maw pursed as if it wished to ask more. And then she tugged firmly on the two needles, felt them slide free of his foot. With rapid grace, she'd already pushed the wad of material against the two new holes, making a soothing and apologetic sound deep in her throat. It was much easier to do this when he least expected it, when there would be the least amount to muscular stress and tenseness for her to work with.



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589



The pained look on this face slowly faded away, back to a slightly more relaxed kind of stare. Sure, it was hard to call it relaxed when he had needles sticking out of his paw pad like some freaky pincushion or a porcupine. There was praise to be given to the woman, her skills as a healer were absolutely divine from his position. The way she tried to sooth the irritation and the tension in his foot muscles was something the greener healers would have not thought about. Back in Michigan, he would have had all the needles yanked out at once and told to go stand in some water, though the objects piercing his foot would probably not be needles since such things were forbidden. Had he gotten caught with them stuck in a foot, he would have easily been demoted for a short time as punishment for fiddling with the 'monsters' ' toys.


Shrugging slightly at the recommendation that was really a request, Strelein answered, "Like I said, I can't really go anywhere. I just have to scream and bear it." Honestly, how was he supposed to grin and bear this? As though he were enjoying the pain the removal brought with it? He was no masochist, pain was not a pleasure for the redhead. Strel let his hands fall to the ground like some old, limp doll's. If one had not known any better, or had looked in from behind Alaine's back, they would have thought she were drugging up the male or that he had smoked a little too much reefer. Strelein wondered what the kind woman thought of him, whining and moaning like a little pup that fell off a big rock. He supposed there was little he could about that; he was on mind reader or hypnotist.


"I met him very recently, but he was very kind to me. He gave me a free bottle of vodka for our King Jac." Strel smiled happily at the mention of Rurik. The guy really was quite nice and the redhead could not help but consider him a newly made friend that would surely be there for a long time, seven years old as he was. "I wanted to return the favor. And of course then I decided to be stupid and hit myself, then step on some pointy objects, and then fall on my ass. I guess an average day then?" Batting his eyes like a flirtatious female at Alaine, he asked, "So how was your day?"


About to speak again to offer the woman his skills for hire when the said woman yanked out more needles. Strel grunted as he scrunched his eyes, swallowing another yelping noise of pain. He let out a sharp breath of air, shaking his head slightly, hair passing over his eyes briefly. Fingers moved the bangs back to the side to keep him from seeing the world in a grainy red. " I do - excuse me -often enough. Daily if I'm able to. I can make you something, for sure would you want it." Strel beamed proudly at the material strewn about the room in a rather disorganized organized manner. He cocked his head, lavender eyes falling on the plastic measuring tape on the table, a loop of it swinging off the edge of the table slowly. "If I don't pass out, I can measure you now for whatever it is you want. And your services right now more than pay for some piece of cloth and thread concoction."

ooc:

She listened absently to his revere, nodding occasionally, the soft smile that dimpled her maw remaining in place but growing at the occasional word. As the red-head spoke of his new companion, all that was feminine within her strained to hear an odd note to his tone, something not often heard in the voice of other testosterone champions. Her emerald eyes flitted up from the wounded paw in time to catch his exaggerated eye-fluttering, and surprise was mingled with warm suspicion for a moment. No, Mr Strel was most certainly not the beef-headed brute she'd originally expected all males to be. It must have been something to do with the sewing.


After having yanked out those two needles, her keen gaze was sincerely concerned and livid upon his own. The young man had wondrous eyes, the hue of soft morning lavender bathed in sunlight. But that was not what she noticed - More, the dilation and rapid expansion of pupil, the way they didn't quite seem to hold her own gaze. It seemed she had a fainter on her paws, though he was firmly conscious yet. The young healer nodded encouragingly, and he continued to speak.


At his acceptance of her request, the young lady's own inverted eyes lit up like forest greenery in spring. For a moment, his foot forgotten, she straightened and let her hand rest over the excited beating of her heart.


" You mean it? Oh, that would be brilliant, just splendid, if you would!"


Like a small child offered candy, Alaine's calming smile because bright and genuine, the swell of sweet laughter bringing more beauty to her face than any manner of cosmetics ever would. Her hands clapped together excitedly. New clothing! Then, embarrassingly aware of her uncouth display, the young healer settled back down to observing the wolf's foot with caution. A heated flush crept up beneath her soft cream fur to stain merry cheeks in sheepish awareness. How silly she must have looked, like a pup with a bone! In her youth, Alaine had been spoiled with all manner of pretty clothes and trinkets. What better way to find a suitable husband than to offer a beautiful wife? But since the darkness, she'd had precious little to call her own, certainly not anything of beauty or value. The material items she now owned were mainly to do with the healing profession, or perhaps cutlery tool to aid her cooking. As far as clothing and looking pretty went; Well, Alaine hadn't admired her image in a long, long time. Events in her life had made her painfully shy and humble, and attracting male attention was the last thing she wanted.


But what female in their right mind could refuse such an offer? Whatever Mr Strel made her, she would cherish, and likely never wear for want of keeping it pristine.


" Almost done, Sir," YANK! Out slid the last two pins, the blood quickly staunched by the pressure of the pad in her hand, " And there you go. Your foot is now pin free!"


She glanced up at the young man, only smiling with her inverted jade eyes now. She gestured for him to hold the pressure on his footpaw, and rose quickly to scurry from the room. Returning nigh immediately with the little leather satchel of healing equipment, Alaine popped open a bottle and began to slather some sweet-smelling ointment over the little pinprick holes.


" This is just to keep it from being infected. Now, I'll have to bandage it, and you might have a bit of a limp for a few days, Sir."


She did as she spoke, binding his foot efficiently with a separate bit of ivory material from her own storage before rocking back onto her heels to survey her work. The young healer nodded briskly, before rising and offering the reclined wolf a hand to help him stand.



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587
yes indeed. Strel would be a fainter. xD


The woman seemed quite excited about the fact that the male could sew. He gave her a questioning look, wondering why on earth her reaction's magnitude was what it was. Then he shrugged, fully aware that they were making a trade off here with the redhead still being in a rather vulnerable position. She was the healer helping him out, and he was the crybaby with needles in his foot. Some would say the woman would have persuaded him to make her clothing in exchange for her services. But now that was just his imagination running away with him. Strel could probably have been a very strange writer had he the ability to read and write. Speaking English was all find and dandy, but reading those letters they wrote everywhere was harder to manage.


Strel did give her a kind looking, realizing that she probably did not often get a chance to get herself something terribly nice. It was hard to find good stuff in the city sometimes, especially in the clothing department. Strel knew, he looked. Custom made was the way to go, which was one of the reasons he did what he did. The unique body shapes of a Luperci were different from the human's, and fitting shirts was sometimes hard. Dresses, pants, and skirts tended to be easier by a lot, but the redhead still stood by his belief. Besides, if he did not, what kind of job could he possibly have anywhere? Clothing would have been a chore and a bother rather than an enjoyable occupation. "Sure could, it wouldn't be too much of a struggle I bet. I don't work in leather," he laughed, feeling a bit dizzy. The blood loss was minimal, but he still did not feel to be the top of his game.


With a final yank, the needles were gone and Strel relaxed, grinning like some fool. Now that was not too terrible now that he thought about it. Well, he was just glad that the whole ordeal was over and done with so he could stop degrading himself in the eyes of another member of Cours des Miracles. What a shameful image he presented to her, whining and pouting like a puppy. "Oh thank you, Miss Alaine." He was truly grateful. Had she not been around, he would have moped for an hour or so before, dejected, he would have pulled them out himself and only moped for a bit longer. The woman ran off and returned, rather quickly, to get an ointment of some sort for the redhead's pinprick puncture wounds. He mumbled some thanks as the bandages went over the coating of the medication. Strel smiled at her as he took her her hand, most of his weight going to his good paw. "Good thing I don't plan on running anytime soon, eh?"


Strel leaned against the table for some support, hand reaching for the measuring tape. Then, tape in hand, he took a scrap of burlap and a charcoal crayon. Edge of the measuring tape in hand, he dropped it, letting the other end curl on the floor. "Since you're here, I might as well get your size, eh?" Strel lifted it up the tape so the metal tipped end was barely touching the floor. The numbers were revealed to be going from one on the floor, to the ten feet in his hands. "Height please," he asked, rather pleasantly. "While we're at it, what's your preferred color, or what color would you like?"

ooc : table by Meghann~ <3
Poor Strel XD

###His grateful murmur was brushed off with a wave of delicate ivory hand, her dimpling smile growing in spite of the gesture. Helping the young man to rise, she took a step back, gave him room to steady himself on the broad arch of the table. Still glowing with stifled joy from his offer, the young lady (Just beyond the age of a girl) shifted her own meager weight from foot to foot. She was a slender, willowy figure, not the conventional beauty with full curves to be adorned by satins and silks. More of a sprite, a sylph with those haunted eyes of deep jade and emerald.


###Mr Strel turned back with some strange equipment in his hands, and the healer eyed him pensively for a moment. She'd never actually had clothing tailored to her figure before, as back in her youth she'd had yet to be able to change forms, and the only garments that her overbearing father had found to put her on display were usually cloaks and pretty squares of expensive cloth. As the metal tip of the measuring tap rapped upon the floor, the flighty young beauty jerked slightly, her wide owlish eyes darting from the long object, to Strel, and back again with avid confusion. What was that thing? To his question, she felt the surge of embarrassment rise again, the urge to blush held back only by the need to appear more mature than she must have before.


###" I... I'm not sure how tall I am," Her melodic voice was meek as she peered up solemnly at the taller male wolf, for her own doggish heritage had made her rather slight of height also, " And I don't suppose I have a favorite color. Have you any suggestions, Sir?"


###Feeling foolish for being unable to answer his kindly questions, the young collie-lady cast her inverted gaze about the room, looking over the menagerie of piled materials with a mixture of awe and premonition. Alaine had no knowledge about what would best appeal to and compliment her own features, so unused to looking upon them was she. Assuming that Strel was a professional in this manner, her warm gaze lifted to him again.



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676
This is when my retardation with fashion shines through like a flashlight through cheesecloth. Also, apologizes for the pp here ><;


Strel blinked absently at the collie-woman for a moment, before he realized his rudeness. It was hard to remember that most people did not need to be measured on a regular basis and would have no need to really know how tall they were and how much they weighed. The latter was significantly less important to the redhead than the height, which he needed if he wanted to do this right. Sighing, he closed the distance between them and stuck the measuring tape beside the woman to note her height. While this pained his foot slightly, he managed, wincing only once and then forcing a smile to break through it like the sun decimates a wispy cloud in the sky. Squinting at the numbers, unsteady with a shaking hand, the redhead managed to pick out the height for the woman. Taking a quick step on his good foot, the chevalier jotted down the number on the burlap scrap of cloth. It took a few going overs to get a good enough, clear enough number down. The handwriting was sloppy and the lines were rough from the texture of the surface they were written on. Strel could not read or write, so writing numbers was almost like trying to teach himself to read English. Thankfully, numbers were merciful to him; they were easy to understand.


Turning a steady gaze onto the young Cour des Miracles woman, Strel paused, the measuring tape bunched up in his hand in loops. "I'm going to tell you right now, my hands may go in the direction of something you would rather I keep my hands ten feet away from, but don't worry," he said softly, sensing her nervousness. It was to be expected of her, since she had asked if being measured hurt. The redhead chucked at that thought, letting the tape unfurl once more, though halfway now. "I won't do anything to you that you will not like. I just need to put this tape around your waist, hips, shoulders, arms, legs, and your bust. The last one may be the most awkward one." The chevalier tried to smile kindly, hoping this was not already alarming her. Most women would be bothered by a man touching her anywhere near her breasts. He just needed to let her know from the start that his hands were not going to go wandering. Breasts were not for playing with. That was an unpleasant thought for the man and he suppressed a shudder at it. Gross.


Swallowing in apprehension over how Alaine would take this, Strel pressed the tape to the front of her chest, from her collarbone down to her hipbones and then down to her kneecaps. That number joined the one of the woman's height. Now it was more of a matter of getting through this tedious process with accuracy and speed, so as to alleviate any tension and nervousness, clearly not from his own part. Measuring the arms, waist, and hips had been significantly easy, so those were finished first. Strel jotted the numbers down, next to a single letter for what they stood for. That much he could do, mostly from reading at tutorials on cloth design and crafting. The clothier simply used their abbreviation conventions for his and called it a day. "I need to measure under, over, and across your bust now, Miss Alaine." That was not a question. He skirted around her, ignoring the throbbing in his foot. He brought his lanky limbs between her arms and body, one hand holding onto the tape. In a quick moment he measured all three, noting the differences and committing them to temporary memory. When those joined the rest of the black charcoal marks on the burlap, the measuring device was careless dumped onto the table, looking as though it would become a knot. "Now that the messy part is over, I can start on the outfit for you. I hope you won't mind pink and a frock of sorts? Also, I apologize if I made you uncomfortable at all."

ooc : don't worry, my own retardation would far outshine yours XD and thats alright, i never really mind a little bit of pp with other experienced RPers. i find it makes everything flow better :3

###The male didn't respond to her babbling, and as such, the young miss assumed it was because he found it just as crude as she did. Mortified with the thought of how imbecilic she must have looked, the young woman stood docile and still while he whipped that strangely marked chord up the from of her body and began to scribble down some digits on the tansy burlap strip. Struck by curiosity, the delicate lady peered forwards as Strel went over the markings, wondered absently at the significance behind them. Her father had been able to read the letters of the long-passed human race, as had all the males of her old family pack. But the females had no education in these manners, and were decreed unfit to be taught the strange images that formed the words of the twolegged. Thankfully Alaine had a mercifully quite wit, and she'd not an inch of dullness to her brain - Because of this, the healer was a quick learner, and though the characters remained foreign to her eyes the collie-woman could easily deduce that they were the numbers that made up her height.


###Startled from her concentration by the soft and pleasant voice of the male, the young lady turned her meek gaze to Strel once more, absorbing his words with a strangely utmost faith. For reasons beyond her own psych knowledge, Alaine drew no fear from Strel, simply did not associate him with the gender of her phobic attentions. She nodded mutely, eyes watching him warily as the male deftly stepped forward again, began to wrap various bits of her body in the length of his measuring tape. She relaxed after the first administration as he went first over her front, her arms, her legs, her waist. The young man's voice murmured in her hark in warning, but when at last the tailor made to measure her bust she flinched only slightly and did not retaliate, held still till he'd once more jotted down the numbers.


###There was a lingering memory of rough clawed hands ravishing her body, bruising and claiming, but it did not surface from the murky depths of her subconscious.


###When Strelein next spoke, the collie-lady seemed to re-awaken from whatever corner of her mind she'd slipped off to during his antics. Hugging her slender body as the cold air seemed to flush back to her skin, Alaine smiled again, her eyes twinkling at him in soft gratitude. For a moment she felt subconscious; She wasn't tall, or well-built, or strong, and had only humbly pert breasts to her name. What ravishing beauty might have been was unspeakably dulled by the way she'd seemed to withdraw, previous illness having stolen soft flesh from her bones, and dark hauntings placing shadows in the delicate sweeps of her features and permanent wariness in her natural grace. But Strel didn't seem to be judging her with his lilac-in-dusk eyes, merely nervous on his own account for having made her jumpy.


###" Aye Sir, that does sound rather lovely. And not at all, you were very... Professional," Absently tugging at one of her rouge auburn and copper locks, the too-young mother nodded slightly, her eyes warming again to the room and it's central occupant, " I would be much obliged if you'd accompany me for tea, though. Really, you shouldn't spend too much time on that footpaw today, not till my poultice has sunk in."


###Somewhere in her subconscious she'd noticed his slight winces, and could sympathize with the fresh pain that walking on the raw wounds must have brought. By the morrow, he'd be nearly right as rain, with perhaps only the sting of memory to keep a limp. As she spoke, though, the young woman was drawn towards his table, and her ivory hands began to pass over the various bits of material and thread. A pink frock, for her! The radiant smile returned, all thoughts of the past forgotten with the joy of the present.



Speak think walk

658
I don't know about experienced, since it's 12 am for me right now. I just tried to give you enough room to work with xP;


Strel gave the young woman a smug look, daintily brushing off a few stray threads that were too short to ever use again. The one who did not enjoy being complimented was most certainly going to find himself impaled somewhere. Or just grumpy, really. This was a skill in and of itself, accepting compliments without appearing vain, egotistical, or praise-hungry. It was easy to see that the redhead either needed more lessons at this or was simply not in the mood to be modest. As a designer of sorts, the duty was his to make any woman, or man, look the way they wanted to look or to find a way to raise their self esteem if by a few drops and teaspoons full at a time. The chevalier shrugged at Alaine, finally attempting to be a modest man. Naturally, he botched it the job, saying, "It's just something I know how to do." Normally, the redheaded man was far more polite than this, but the way the woman went about it, well, it could only aggravate his already massively bloated ego.


Raising a fist to his mouth, he cleared his throat in a self-conscious manner. Eying the material on hand, he noted he had far too much sunshine yellow and not nearly enough floral pink to satisfy his needs. A search for ellusive petal soft color would be required if the whole summer dress would be of the color. Yet the gears in his mind whirled and clicked, piecing together a mental picture of the outfit on some nameless mannequin. Strelein fazed out, eyes half glazed over as his concentration wavered. The outfit would be a new project for him, something mightily massive and time consuming. Oh, the prospect of it was enough to make his blood race in the way that a hard and complicated sewing puzzle could do. Perhaps a bodice of a lovely coral color shifting into a butter squash skirt or something equally light for the next few seasons. Winter would not last forever and this woman seemed like she deserved a very pretty garment for the airy spring, the warm summer, and the nippy fall. All the stitches and patterns he would need seemed to flow through his mind's eye, one picture after the other. The issues he saw were decided on how to decorate it once the two parts were joined together into a uniform piece. Though this was probably the least important of his worries. Yes, he would need to go ahead and find a full, or almost full, bolt of cloth for the skirt part. In the very least. A good quality dress could not be made from the modified cloth of blouses.


Finally, the chevalier remembered where he was and whom he was standing with. Sporting a sheepish grin, he ran a hand through his dyed red mane. "Please, I wish you wouldn't call me 'sir' like that. I'm not that old. I'm only two," he said, looking awkward at it. No one else referred to him like that to his very face. Maybe jokingly some would, but none treated the man as though he were truly a gentleman worthy of such a chivalrous mark. At least she too kept some professionalism about her, chiding the male as though he were a naughty pup not listening to his mother. Guilty look aside, Strelein nodded curtly, keeping to the table as support. "That sounds like an amazing idea. I swear, where do you come up with these things?" he joked lightly, trying to go slow enough on his feet that the woman would choose to lead the way. "And as for the dress, I'll be sure to bring it to you - you live here, right? - when I finish it." A twinkle in his eye betrayed his interest in the project. "But I hope that you won't mind my refusing you seeing it until the final fitting, mhm?"