fandomtownies | Pixie Dust; Thursday [03/16].

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Pixie Dust; Thursday [03/16].

Boc had really made himself surprisingly comfortable, here in the store, especially since the employees didn't seem to mind, or, at the very least, they had not been driven to chase him out yet. So that was nice! And thanks to helping Nell with clearing out all those extra scones and jams she'd brought for him last week, he didn't even need to worry about venturing out to find food! That might change, soon; he'd tried to make them last as long as he could, but they were dwindling quite a bit. Good thing he didn't really need much, eh? Add to the fact that he actually had an alteration to make, on those trousers that Nell had brought in, and he'd been rather comfy in a rare little bubble of having something to do and something in his stomach and no one beating him up or kicking him around.

If he wasn't carefully, he could get used to something like this!

(Which would, of course, be exactly the moment they would kick him out, he reckoned).

He'd spent a lot of the last week practicing, actually, because while he knew he was a decent hand at his sewing, he also knew he was no where near as good as his dear old mum had been, and he didn't want to mess up Nell's pants, especially since she'd been so kind and generous. Fine way to pay her back for all of that goodwill, going and messing up her trousers like that! But he had finally gained enough confidence to give it a go, and was just finishing up on them today, actually, and feeling rather proud of his work.

He liked to think his mum would be proud, as well. He could only hope that Nell would be, too. Or at least not disgusted and horrified by what he'd done to her poor pants.

Pixie Dust is open!

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Nell stopped by with another basket of food. "Good morning, my friend, Boc," she said with a smile. "You were so helpful last week, that I wonder if you might help me out again this week. I was experimenting with some breads and a sort of meat pie and well, I made a fair number and also, the crust on some of the pies, while tasty, is not very neatly done."

She set the basket on the counter. "The meat pies need to be refrigerated, but I noticed there was a small refrigerator out back as well as a little microwave to heat them up again when you were ready to eat them. Do you think you could help me out again?"

Boc, who had been rather thinking about how he would have to brave going out and about the island and risk things like encountering ruffians or overzealous Tarnished or people wanting to turn him into a tree again to seek out Nell and return her pants, was so startled to see her just breeze in to see him first, just sort of gawked up at her as she approached the counter. And she was speaking, and saying an awful lot, and so he tried to shake his head and snap out of it so that he could actually hear what she said and process it. It was a lot, but he think he managed to at least catch some of the more important parts.

"Err, well, y-yes," he said, head now bobbing up and down, "yes, of course, miss, I'd be happy to help you out with anything. Anything at all! Er, well, to the best of my ability, miss, thank you. And, um, well, er....speaking....speaking of which...."

Awkwardly, he took the pants she'd brought his last week and held the out in front of him, over his head as it bowed subserviently, "I've finished the alterations on your trousers, miss. I hope you find them to your satisfaction."

Nell took the pants back and held them out to look at them, then held them against her waist. She took a moment to check the stitching, nodding the whole time, before turning her attention back to him. "Beautifully done work, Boc. Just exactly what I wanted!"

Boc kept his head down, his fingertips pressed together all while she was inspecting his work, anxiously awaiting Nell's judgement, bracing himself for the inevitable moment of her finding it unsatisfying and whatever fallout such disappointing work may inspire.

Only to have it not only not arrive, but for the exact opposite to occur, and he lifted up his head to gawk at her anew.

"R-really, miss?" he asked. "D'you mean it? Have I done well? Or well enough?"

"I do mean it, truly, Boc," Nell assured him. "It's beautifully done. I don't think my mother or grandmother could have done better and theya are truly good seamstresses." As was Nell herself, but that was not the point.

"Oh..." Boc's hands started rubbing together, in the uncertainty of not knowing how to respond to such praise. "I...I'm not so sure about that, miss, you're just being kind. I know it's a far cry from what you'd have gotten, were it me mum, but I'm grateful that you find the work acceptable."

"It's beautifully done," Nell said kindly, but firmly. "Perhaps your mother could have made the stitches more ornamental, but that's not what I wanted. You gave me just what I needed - and saved me from having to struggle through it mynself."

She took a moment to rummage in her purse and pulled out an appropriate amount of money. All right, perhaps a bit more than would strictly have been appropriate. "And here's what I owe you," she said. "I have some other things that need various fixes, would you be willing to do that for me?"

"Oh," Boc's head swayed, "no, miss. Erm, I mean, yes, I would be my pleasure to make any fixes that you may need, just bring 'em in, I'll do my best. But, no, miss, you needn't pay me anything. I'm happy to do it for you, free of charge. After all," very briefly, he chanced a look up, but it was fleeting, his head ducking slightly deeper, "you've already given me so much already, it's the least I can do."

"No, Boc," Nell said. "You must let me pay you for your work. It's only right, and I would be taking advantage of the situation if I didn't. And then it would weigh on my conscience and I couldn't bring you more of my clothes and then I'd have to find the time to try and alter them myself..."

"No," she shook her head. "I need to pay you. If you'd like to come by and help me with my plants sometime to thank me that would be fine," and another excuse to send him home with food, "but this money is yours."

"Perhaps," she said, "If you wanted to bring a pizza over to my house to share sometime? I'd enjoy that! Just two friends sharing a meal."

There was a store called Book Haven that had drawn Liliana's attention on the map that Steven had given her and it was far enough away from any devils who might blow up her whole spot. Because, ugh, devils. The fastest way to get there from her home was obviously Black Swan Drive, but as that went directly past No Thank You Nest, she had diverted up Griffen, over to Loon, and then down Minotaur Lane. Funny how a world without any of those creatures still had roads named for them.

She was puzzling through that mystery as she passed Pixie Dust, but what to her wondering eyes should appear? Another non-human, only the second she had seen since arriving on this island! And...they looked possibly Nezumi? Fascinating.

And also clothing, another passion of hers, but the styles she could see through the window did not appeal. Still, the both together were a siren call too strong to be denied, and with a rustle of violet silk from her gown and the softer shh noise of her royal purple velvet coat (some of us had a color theme going on, thank you), she relegated Book Haven to secondary importance and made her way into the store. "Hello the shop," she called.

Boc looked up from where he was idly inspecting the fine stitching work on yet another garment, continuously marveling over how neat and uniform they all were and dreaming about one day being able to produce such efficient work himself, at the sound of someone coming in, and he felt a small burst of panic, that this person should discover him there and decide he shouldn't be there or that he'd be in the way, and his head swiveled back toward the counter to defer to one of the other employees who'd moved in and out of the shop while he remained, only to discover that it was, alas, only him at the moment. A new knot of nervousness cinched around his stomach as he wondered if that meant he should do as they did in greeting and helping the supposed customer, or if he was better of just hoping she'd not notice him and be on her way.

But the prospect that the other employees would find out he'd ignored a potential customer and drive him away because of it was too terrible to fathom, and so he worked up the courage and the voice to let out a trembling, "Y-yes...hel-hello, hello, erm, uhh, welcome, to, erm, Pixie Dust, miss. Did you....did you need some assistance? In either finding garments on this fine day, or perhaps are you in need of some alterations to your own?"

Ohh, but her did look rather lovely, didn't he? Surely, if he were to work on anything so fine, he'd ruin it, just ruin it!

Liliana offered Boc a rare treat: a genuine smile. "Hello," she said, looking around. "I've no pressing needs at the moment, though eventually my wardrobe will need expanding and updating." She too began to examine a garment, impressed as Boc was by the stitching, but less so with the style, fabric, and colors. "So I thought it fitting to come in and see your work firsthand. My, you are very prolific."

What a shame, then, that Boc was far too busy staring dutifully at the floor to have even noticed such a special occasion as a genuine smile! And his bowed head began to wag back and forth with dedication at her words.

"Ah....no," he said, "no, miss, you're quite mistaken. All these lovely garments were here when I got here; well, some of them have arrived, in the weeks since, but the handiwork is none of my own. I could never even dream of making such fine things. I am but a lowly seamster, and not a very good one, at that, though I do try. And you have my word I would do my utmost best, were you to kind enough to bring me anything that might need some attention."

"Ahh, I see. Hmm." That was slightly disappointing; she really was going to need to see someone about making her a new wardrobe, considering the abbreviated state of her own. "Well, may I see some of your work, if you've any about? If this is the type of clothing you receive from elsewhere, I don't believe I would be interested in patronizing their shop."

Sorry, modern attire and fast fashion. Lili has no interest in you. "Oh. Are you the proprietor of this shop?"

"Who, me?" The suggestion was such a wild and preposterous thing to Boc, who had no idea that it was actually, somehow, true, that it actually lifted his head and he gawked up at Liliana with wide, startled eyes. "A proprietor of a shop? Goodness no, miss, I just....well, I guess you could say I just live here. 'Cause they let me, and I just do a few touch-ups, here and there. I haven't got much work yet to show you, but there are these."

He scurried a bit, around the counter, to fetch an armful of trousers that he'd been working on, and then held the up for inspection, if she so wished.

"I was tasked with making adjustments to someone's pants recently," he said. "I didn't want to mess them up, so I've been spending the week practicing. Wanted the legs a bit more narrow than they were, she did, so's you can see, that's what I've done with all of these as well."

Liliana takes the pants, looking them over with a critical, well-practiced eye.

[OOC: Is Boc actually very talented and just suffers from crippling self-esteem that needs to be hugged and praised out of him. NOT THAT LILIANA WOULD DO THAT OR ANYTHING.]

And as soon as the pants were held under that critical eye, Boc ducked his head, looking more like he was waiting for an executioner's axe to fall upon him rather than just mere judgement of his seams.

[[ of COURSE she wouldn't. But at this point, Boc's work is probably the most average, basic, decent and servicable MID work ever to be seen ]]

"Mmm," she said, returning the pants. "Certainly adequate for mending and repairs, skill at alterations would likely depend on the intricacy of the task." She regarded him with dark purple eyes. "What is your name?"

[SHE WOULD NEVER. COMFORT AND EMOTIONS ARE FOR OTHER, LESSER PEOPLE]

"Name's Boc, miss." His head bobbed a little, in gratitude and appreciation for the kindness in her even bothering to ask. "Boc the Seamster, at your service."

"Liliana Vess," she said, extending her hand to him, "Proprietor of The Infinite Consortium on the other side of town. I deal in magical artifacts and items, should you ever wish to come by."

She glanced back down to his pants. "You have talent," she informed him. "You certainly need practice before you're ready to create clothing whole cloth, but with that practice, you'll get there."

"You're kind, miss," said Boc, who wouldn't have known what to do with that extended hand even if his eyes had been up enough to see it. "I know it's not much, but it's a start. One day, I hope to be as good as my dear old mum; she was a seamstress, too. I know I've got an ever-long ways to go, but I...perhaps...one day, I could do even more."

Liliana dropped her hand. "Oh do look up," she said. "You're not having a conversation with the floor. Back straight, chin up. You have a saleable talent and skills others do not. Remember that."

Edited 2023-03-16 23:43 (UTC)

To his credit, Boc did try to do all the things Liliana told him to. He did look up, although he'd left his head out of it, lifting only his eyes, which still didn't help much with seeing her, due to the brim of his cap. His attempt to straighten his back just went entirely to his shoulders, which he lifted in a way that wound up arching his back the opposite of his hunch instead of straightening it. And he rather just stuck of his chin, rather than lift it.

"Y-yes, miss," he then stammered. "T-thank you. Truly."

You know, that was fine. Yet another thing that would take practice. "Very good," Liliana said, approvingly. "It will take time for this to become second-nature."

She regarded him. "How do you feel about spiders?"

Boc's back relaxed a little, not quite back to his usual bowed hunch, but more comfortable than where it's just been.

"Oh, well, there's good protein," he said, "in spiders, if you can catch them, but you'd best avoid the ones that bite, they'll leave you with all sorts of trouble, be it poison or blood rot or sleep. But they do sometimes make the most beautiful webs you've ever seen, don't they? Like fine lace, it is. Me mum used to say that's spider's silk is some of the strongest thread there is, but you've got to be of a truly special kind to use it, an art only the spiders themselves can master."

Even to Boc, though, who would certainly hate to question one such as Liliana, it seemed to be a bit of an odd question, in that moment, and his head lifted to look up a touch curiously.

"W-why....why do you ask, miss?"

"Stay here," Liliana said, like Boc was going to leave. She then paused, since it was entirely possible that Boc would not move from this very spot. "In the store," she amended. "Please." She amends yet further. "I will be right back."

She made her way to the door, intending to hail a rickshaw to make the trip to her shop and back without taking an inordinate amount of time.

Even with the clarification, Boc very likely would just stay right in the very spot until Liliana returned, because where else did he have to go, anyway? So he just stood there and waited, admiring the print on a shirt not too far away.

Oh, Boc.

About fifteen minutes after Liliana left, she returned, holding something in her hand. "This is for you," she said, handing it over.

A large faceted moldavite set into an articulated metal band shaped like a spider. "Wrap that around your wrist," she instructed. "Then press the spider head," which he would find depresses easily. If he did, silk slowly extruded between the spider's mandibles. Which, yes, was anatomically incorrect, but Liliana wasn't going to fuss. As the silk extruded, the front legs slowly wound it into a neat ball. "The spider can actually weave the silk into lace, but that involves the use of mana. Do you have any magic, Boc?"

"Oh," said Boc, blinking a little as he took the item from Liliana, before his eyes widened when he really got a look at it. He did not put it on his wrist as instructed, but neither did he immediately try to shove it back at her in refusal, so that may be considered some sort of progress. His head wagged, back and forth, in dismay. "N-no, miss, no magic at all, none to speak of, but I couldn't accept a thing like this, anyway. I've got nothing to give you in return, except maybe something from the shop, and, even then, those aren't really mine to give. I couldn't."

"If I wished for payment, I would have demanded it up front," Liliana said carelessly. And then narrowed her eyes at him; she had a feeling that wasn't going to cut it. "If however, you do not feel that is sufficient, then say it's this. A promise that you are going to keep working and improving and one day you will make me a fine gown, from this very silk."

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Pixie Dust; Thursday [03/16].

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