Who

Leire

What

Leire goes on a commission with her mentor.

When

It is the second day of the fourth month of the eighth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Minor Hold, Bitra Region

OOC Date 21 Nov 2018 06:00

 

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"She can get wed in the bluff for all I care."



Minor Hold

A medium-sized minor holding in Bitra's region. It is quite dull and sports very little greenery, and even the orchards and vineyards are barren at this time of year.


"I hate it!" the skinny blonde announced, petulance writ all over her face.

It was a mere sevenday prior to the expected nuptials of a certain wealthy minor holder's son and another not-as-wealthy-but-definitely-wealthy minor holder's daughter, and the latter had up to that point refused every sketch and fabric swatch thrown at her. Her father had commissioned some of the best weavers on the planet, to design for her a gown to be flattered, imitated, and gossiped about for turns to come. Yet, she was unhappy and uninspired by everything. And on that particular day, they had been at it for hours, combing over the best weaves, dyes, and silhouettes. They sat – a master, three journeymen, and their accompanying apprentices – with their figurative heads in their hands, staring from one another, to the minor holder, and then back to his sullen daughter.

"N-n-now, Jhasynia," her father stammered, his brow beaded with nervous sweat. "There m-m-ust be s-s-omething you like." His crooked, yellowed smile was wide and hopeful, but she pouted and turned away in a swish of heavy fabrics.

"P-p-perhaps we all just need a break, h-h-m?" he stammered again, turning from his only offspring to the exhausted crafters.


Just outside of the main hall was a sprawling courtyard, filled with an abundance of dead plant life. It may have once stood grand and lush, with all shades of greenery and exotic flowers, but now there was nothing left but rotting branches; even the soil was dry and looked incapable of supporting growth.

"I can not take anymore of that.." Journeyman Frejen sighed and dropped his hand from his neck, which he had been kneading ceaselessly as they meandered away from the hall and out into the courtyard. He glanced down at his apprentice, Leire – a much younger version of herself – walking steadfastly by his side. "We may be here yet hours longer, Leire."

"I don't mind," she responded, brightly.

"I do. I have lessons to plan. You have lessons to study."

"I brought my studies with me!" she blurted out, still smiling brightly.

"I should have known," he muttered under his breath and chuckled.

"What will you do if she keeps refusing everything?" the apprentice asked.

"She can get wed in the bluff for all I care," he replied, coldly, but the young woman's cheeks flushed with color.

"Did you show her the fabric from Tillek?" Leire mumbled.

"Yes. She thought it garnish," the journeyman weaver sneered.

"What a pity. It would make a lovely dress."

"Yes, yes, but that child," Frejen was quickly losing his temper just thinking about the unwillingness of their client. He pressed a many-ringed hand against his forehead, taking a steadying breath. "Tell me again what she was jabbering about over tea."

"Oh! She hates the gold dress she saw the Lady Igen's cousin get wed in, and Fort Hold's latest in red was atrocious.." Leire chattered on, giving highlights of her gossip session with the similarly aged holder's daughter. "..she just wishes someone could encapsulate the color of the water when the sun sets over it, but Master Vabre said that's impossible and she thinks he's too bald to be having such opinions."

She giggled behind her hands, but Frejen's response was less amused. He snapped his fingers and gripped one of the apprentice's shoulders with his hands. "That's it," he said, grinning from ear to ear, "you brilliant girl, you."

"Huh?" she squeaked, staring after the man as he hurried back to the hall, calling the other journeymen's names loudly as he went.

"Yijias! Lhytun! Reim!"


A more joyous occasion could not be found on that day, and it felt like all of the who's-who of Pern had come out to celebrate. It was an elaborate wedding spanning multiple days, but the bride's dress on the day they said their vows before their families took center stage. It rippled and flowed with her body, with wide sleeves that covered her hands in elegant folds and a train that swathed the bridal path after she had walked it, and most importantly, where the sun shone on the fabric, it looked as deep and luminous as the ocean touched by golden rays.

It was a much talked about dress for months after, and indeed the hall was inundated with requests for imitations for as long. Still, like many things, trends come and go, and within six months something new was catching the attention of every fashion-forward woman on Pern.

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