i am a strange loop

Theodoric Martin · 12-07-2010, 03:19 AM

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apologies for the delay! (wc: 560)

In weaving, the beginning few centimeters were the most critical. The tension of the yarn must be gauged correctly and subsequently kept even, otherwise the edges of the product would be lumpy and misshapen. Generally, with the high quality yarn Theodoric was used to working with, this wasn’t a problem, but forgetting to check was a rookie mistake that he wouldn’t be caught making. In a tartan weave like the one he was making, the first bit was also important for establishing the fabric’s pattern. A waylaid line at this point could make the entire design flawed. In something as important and recognizable as a family’s weave, a flawed pattern rendered the fabric useless commercially. Of course, Theodoric wasn’t as concerned with commercial value as he had once been, but it was a point of pride to make the weave flawless.

In his concentration, Theodoric’s mild humming became a full-fledged workroom song. The lyrics were mostly in the muddled old gaelic and english speech that was commonly spoken in the markets and streets of his hometown. In any case, the words were never important for a working song, so long as the general rhythm matched the over, under and across motions of the loom. Back home if a workroom held more than one weaver, it was not uncommon for their motions to become synchronized by the songs they sang.

A knock at the door broke Theodoric’s working reverie. He was more curious at the novelty than he was annoyed at being interrupted. Theo had never had visitors before, let alone unexpected guests. Wynne whistled a greeting from her sturdy perch when he exited the workroom, an area divided from the main room by a long curtain suspended from the rafters. Briefly, Theodoric scanned the room for anything potentially embarrassing that he might have left laying about. Other than the morning’s dishes by the basin he used as a sink, he was satisfied.

Unsure what to expect, Theodoric went to the door and opened it. He was a fairly slender luperci of average height with a grey pelt with some mottled brown. Because he was at home working, he wore only a pair of many-pocketed doehide leggings that covered him from hip to shin. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the daylight beyond the doorway, and to his surprise he had not only one but two visitors on this day. Both looked fairly young, one snow-white and the other mostly grey. He did not recognize either of them, but they both smelled of the pack and so he welcomed them warmly. “Ladies!” he said with a friendly grin, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Stepping aside from the doorway, he gestured inside, “Please, come in!”

Although Theodoric was a bachelor, his home was tidy and quite clean. The rafters were clear of dust, and only spiderwebs with active inhabitants were allowed to linger in the corners. There were fresh rushes on the floor, but none too near the large fireplace in the left corner of the room. Otherwise, it was clear that the home lacked a lady’s touch. The furniture was made or chosen for function rather than form, and the only decoration on the walls was a solitary small framed tapestry. But with embers still warm in the hearth, the building was snug against the oncoming winter’s chill.

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