[OPEN] Start with Goodbye

[witheredpeonies]

Who: Annabel Lee Whitlock (witheredpeonies) & You!
What: Arrival and CR-building opportunities
When: Early June
Where: All over the place!
Warning(s): None yet, comment titles will indicate any that arise.

1. Never a hand hardly to hold [Downtown]
A new arrival has...well, arrived! Annabel Lee Whitlock, a pale blonde wisp of a woman with clever eyes and an easy smile spends her first couple of days exploring her new surroundings. Today, it's the downtown. Walking with a dainty gait and curious glances into the shops, weighing her desire for better clothing against the limited amount of brass in her pocket. Clearly, she's going to need to find work for herself. Nothing nearly so nasty as hard labor, fishing or farming, of course. It's good work, but nothing she'll set her hands to.

When she sees a thimble in the window of a general store, an idea starts to form. Implementation may take effort and aid, but she has time to work it all out. Right?

Feel free to encounter her anywhere in the downtown, looking every bit the tourist.


2. Big city sway, move with the day [Bulletin Board/Workshop]
A message written in an elegant script, on cheap paper:

Now Open, with the Support of the Artisan Guild!
Whitlock Needleworks
Embroidery and Mending at Fair Prices; Braiding, Tasselwork and other Embellishment also Available.
See Annabel Lee Whitlock for More Information.
[Address]

Should someone come seeking the workshop where Annabel's set herself up, they'll find her working on a display piece of embroidery meant to show off her skills. Peonies, of course.

"Welcome in. Was there something particular you were looking for, today?"


3. Wanting it bad, ever-returning home [Wildcard]
Feel free to contact me on almost any social media (discord, plurk, etc.) at darkersolstice to get a custom starter

Comments

Big City Sway, Move With The Day

[deepbluerevue]

“I was hoping you could help me with that.” The newly arrived customer smiles politely at the young woman with a handful of embroidery. Her clothes, in contrast to the gorgeous floral embellishment taking shape under Whitlock’s needle, are entirely unadorned. “Miss Whitlock, right? I can already see you know what you’re doing. That’s some beautiful work.”

[witheredpeonies]

"Most of what I've done has been display pieces, back home. But I would love to turn my needle to things people will actually wear." Her gaze runs up-and-down Grace's clothing, and her smile becomes almost smug.

"Are we thinking embroidery, maybe some trim on the sleeves and the hem of the skirt?"

[deepbluerevue]

An almost-expression flickers across the woman’s face at that smile, but she maintains the friendliness of her own. “Something simple like that,” she says agreeably. “No sense trying to make a silk purse of a sow’s ear, but I’d like to look a little more than just ‘presentable’ while my new dress is in the works.”

[Note]

For Grace’s current outfit, think the sorts of things the ladies in these photos are wearing: https://www.famousphotographers.net/frank-meadow-sutcliffe

[witheredpeonies]

"I'd be glad to help with that. Though it'll be hard to work on those while you're wearing them. Do you have a spare change of clothing?"

Annabel's beginning to get a vision for what she could do to jazz up the clothes, how she can go about giving them some flare. Contrasting trim, embroidery around the neckline. Nothing extreme, but definitely eye-catching.

[deepbluerevue]

Grace sighs. “As a matter of fact, I do,” she says ruefully, lifting one shoulder to indicate the bag hanging there with her newcomer outfit inside. “Much as I’d prefer to never wear them again. You wouldn’t happen to have a time estimate, would you? It’d be a hard sell to perform in plain linen, so I’d best leave the outfit when I don’t have any appearances scheduled.”

[witheredpeonies]

"So, there's a couple ways we could do this. Instead of doing it all at once, we do it a little at a time so you have it as a work-in-progress for performances. Sleeves and hem first, Embroidery at the neck next. It'd allow you to wear it, and to give me feedback, what you like, what you don't like. If I did it all at once, it'd be a few days of work, a week at the outside if you wanted a lot of embroidery on the bodice."

[deepbluerevue]

“Bit-by-bit would be a perfect arrangement.” Grace says, laughing politely. “No rest for a performer just yet. It’s been interesting getting adjusted, I have to say.”

2

[lordoftheozarks]

"Good afternoon," he says, tipping his hat in response to her greeting. He's come into the shop wearing a stylish new suit but he has his old standard issue trousers over one arm.

"Yes, I was hoping you might be able to mend these for me." He motions down to the frayed holes in both knees. "I got into a spot of trouble not long ago and scuffed them badly, as you can see. Do you think there's anything you could do?"

[witheredpeonies]

She leans in to examine the damage thoughtfully.

"I think so. They're not going to be exactly like new, though. Patching, basically, would be how I'd go about it. Attach a patch to the inside of the trouser and secure it with stitchwork. We could even use a contrasting color patch and make the stitchwork ornamental in appearance, so you end up with something that's unique and stylish, instead of looking like you're ashamed of the condition of your pants."

She walks behind the counter, pulling out a bin of fabric scraps that the Artisan Guild had given her upon opening up her own workspace. "Otherwise, I could match as well as possible, but I think sometimes an imprecise match is worse."

[lordoftheozarks]

"I did anticipate as much. That's very nice embroidery work you're doing. I think I trust you to make the patch and ornamental details look as fine as they may. These are to be my spare set of clothes for when doing dirty-work, but I do appreciate a chance to keep them presentable." Such are the times when he has to watch his pocket book. When did he last have to do that?

"Oh, how rude of me. I've yet to introduce myself. I am Lord Erik Osborne. I arrived here only a little over a month ago. It's a pleasure to meet you." Again, he sweeps the hat off his head, keeping it off this time.

[witheredpeonies]

And she bobs something of curtsy in turn, lowering her head, so very dainty.

"Annabel Lee Whitlock, honored to meet you. Is the proper form of address, then, Lord Osborne?" She does so want to show the proper respect to someone who clearly thinks himself so very worthy of respect.

[lordoftheozarks]

"It is. Thank you Miss Whitlock." He knows he hardly has much right to enforce the title here, but if there are those willing to use it, he would prefer that. He earned it.

"I cannot claim to know all the faces in town quite yet, but I feel I would remember you had I seen you about. Don't tell me you are one of the new arrivals I heard of recently?"

[witheredpeonies]

“Yes, I’m afraid I am. Any advice you have on life here, I’d be glad to hear, while I start working on these pants.”

She holds a few different fabric scraps up to the knee, ranging from a dark plaid to a brown corduroy, seeing what might coordinate well.

Whitlock Needleworks

[skeletonkeay]

Not too long after the bulletin went up, in came a man with long black hair, hands in his pockets and the stench of tobacco on his clothes. He is utterly covered with both tattoos and bruises--- eye-shaped ink markings are placed on every joint, and he has a number of cuts and dings all over him as well as a pronounced black eye. His clothes are in tatters, mostly in the knees as well as partially ripped-off sleeves. He certainly looks like he has business here.

"...Afternoon," he says a bit awkwardly.

[witheredpeonies]

"Goodness! Did you encounter a dangerous creature out there?" Clearly it wasn't a nice, civilized person who gave him that black eye. Right? Riiiight? "Do come over and let me get a closer look at the damage--those sleeves will need reinforcement, clearly. And patches for the knees?"

[skeletonkeay]

"What? No, no, I like the knees. And the sleeves," Gerard grumbled. "I was wondering if you could make, ah, embroidered patches. For a jacket."

[witheredpeonies]

"Oh. Well, yes, I'm certain that I could." She's a little baffled about him liking the frayed edges. Look, punk is not something she has an understanding of. The closest thing in her life is Lenore women who crossdress and men who are dandies.

(Though one could argue her world is the gothest of goth, fit to outdo Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and her Hogwarts.)

[skeletonkeay]

"Well, uh," he muttered, "I don't have the jacket yet, because I just arrived, but..." He paused, deciding how to describe it. Not like he can pull out a smart phone and give her pictures. "Where I'm from, it's a fashion statement. Torn clothes and embroidered patches with symbols. I just don't quite feel like myself without it. If that makes sense."

[witheredpeonies]

"Well, it's certainly not a fashion for me, but I would hate for you to not feel like yourself. Patches--what sort of symbols would you want me to embroider?" Her gaze pulls to the tattoos on his hands, anticipating something similar to those.

Big city sway, move with the day

[daddy_topside]

Heavy footsteps announce the arrival of this customer long before the door to the shop ever opens. Even muffled through wood and glass, it makes any unanchored items rattle about. A small crowd of people shuffle quickly by, faces nervous and voices low.

A minute later, a tall, broad figure fills the window, the yellow glow of its porthole face highlighting imperfections in the aged glass. The door creaks open and brings with it a rush of smells: dried kelp, cold sea water and rain, cut with just the barest undercurrent of something coppery.

The source of that final mystery scent is promptly revealed when the creature places a torn, bloodied canvas bag onto Annabel's counter. Alongside a damp sack of brass.

[witheredpeonies]

That is certainly a sight. Annabel stares for a moment, but recovers quickly. Is this stranger really that much more frightening than Prospero or Montressor, back at Nevermore Academy? No, and nor is he more frightening than her own spectre, which is always an option if he decides to become frightening.

"Would you like me to patch it up for you, then?"

[daddy_topside]

The creature reaches over his shoulder, and retrieves... a slate. He also pulls a chalk out of one of his pockets, bracing the board against his forearm. The squeak of chalk against slate somewhat undercuts the air of untouchable menace.

Upon finishing, he turns the slate around for Annabel to read.

how much?

The handwriting is wide but legible, although the chalk is bit lumpy from the slate's wet surface.

[witheredpeonies]

He's communicating, and that's a good sign! Intelligent, capable of language, and willing to bargain. Right, much less scary now.

"Call it twenty-five brass? Do you want me to try to match the original fabric, or to pick coordinating colors to make it look like something new?"

[daddy_topside]

utility only

No point in making it like something new when the owner is regularly going up against the local sea beasts and sharp rocks. All it needs to do is reliably hold salvage.

[witheredpeonies]

She taps a finger against her lower lip, before nodding. "I can do that. I think I have some denim or canvas, very sturdy. How soon do you need it?"