RP:A Fashionable Offer

Summary: Invited to Schezerade as a guest of the newest Shar, Iintahquohae finds herself presented with a very lucrative offer.

Date of Writing: Feb 15th, 2021.

A Fashionable Offer

Topiary Garden, Schezerade
Just like the covered walkway that leads to this garden and the other garden beyond that walkway, this topiary garden appears to be tended to with the utmost care. Shrubs and trees are carefully clipped so they’re shaped into various animals --winged creatures, mostly-- and even a few people of varying race. Children can be seen playing hide-and-seek among the massive plant sculptures, filling the tranquil garden with childish laughter.

[Uriphiel] It is a crisp, cool day high in the floating city of Schezerade. Not so cold that one would be required to wear a coat or a heavy cloak, but just enough that even with the sun shining brightly overhead, it would not be comfortable enough weather to don anything less than a sweater. Uriphiel was sat upon a stone bench in front of a marble table, a familiar and favourite spot in the well cared for topiary garden that led to the Bardic College grounds. He loved to sit and watch the students come and go, musing for a day when the Avian Empire would once again be something great. A tray of tea sat before him, decorated with a variety of flavoured tea bags, a selection of delectable strawberry tarts, and two ceramic cups. It must not have been there for very long, because the pot was still letting out wisps of steam as if it had just come off the stove. The Shar wore a navy blue sweater vest over a white dress shirt, and a gold tie, with gray cotton slacks and his black military boots to complete the ensemble. The sleeves of his neatly pressed shirt were rolled up to the elbow, not minding the chill, as the avians were a bit more adapted to the cooler temperatures so high above the kingdoms below. On the table to his left, sits an old wooden box with a glass window on top, seemingly full of various jewelry and baubles - A collection of his own that he intended to compare against the work of the woman that he was expecting.

When Iintahquohae finally arrived at the sky pier, she would be greeted by an armored young avian with chestnut brown hair and wings that matched, as well as two stable hands that were ready to house the woman’s mount if she so felt comfortable enough to do so. “Miss Oohjmaeyik, I presume?” the young man asked, already sure that he had the correct woman. “This way, please,” he said in a cordial manner, intending to lead Iintahquohae through the city, and to the topiary garden in which her meeting with Uriphiel would take place.
[Iintahquohae] The flight upon Pinquettki's back to Schezerade felt exhilarating. In the years since the two began flying together, flying high enough to reach the avian's city had become a goal between them. Breaking through cloud cover, the couatl and the seamstress upon her back pause midflight, taking in the skyline of Schezerade. They find the sky pier with ease, and once Iintahquohae has slid off of Pin's scaled back and unbuckled the wooden trunk and jewelry box from her side, she takes a few steps forward onto the pier once she has lowered them to the floor. Her black curls are braided back to prevent tangling in the wind during their flight, along with a pair of copper-tinted goggles over her eyes. Upon removing them, she tucks them into the saddle bag of sorts buckled to Pin's back, replacing them with a pair of silver, rectangular-framed glasses. Her attire is unusual for the vampire to wear out of doors, and decidedly not Vailkrin-chic or Cenril-chic, unless you happened to be wealthy. Black slacks, grey button-up and black jacket have been replaced with flowing pale yellow robes made of sea silk, dusted with turquoise embroidery in a seashell motif, all made by her hand. The choker that she had once worn almost daily, wrought of titanium and fashioned to look like an octopus tentacle constricting her throat sits on her neck for the first time in a long while. With her height already topping out at six feet, the willowy-framed woman opts for flat, leather sandals that match the blue embroidery of her robes. Muttering a thank you to the strength gained due to her vampirism, the seamstress hoists the trunk of clothes up with one arm, while the other takes the top handle of the wooden jewelry box she has brought along.

As she turns, the avian that greets her is met with surprise. These folk are prompt. “Yes, that would be me,” she greets. She casts a glance at the pair of stable hands that would house Pinquettki, then settles her gaze on the couatl for a moment. There's a silent exchange between them, before she voices, “It'll be okay, Pin. Just behave. No exploring.” Parting from her companion felt unpleasant, but she was certain the couatl would be just fine. While being lead through the city, Iintahquohae cannot help silently marveling at just about everything. The avians and their wings, the architecture, the utter grandeur of it all. Upon reaching the topiary garden, and catching a glimpse of who she presumes to be the Shar, given the spread laid out near him. With his face obscured by the helmet he wore on their first meeting, she had no real grasp of his appearance. “Uriphiel Shar,” greets the seamstress, once the avian that escorted her and herself had come within earshot of him. “You clean up nicely,” she remarks, now with a better look of his attire. “Not that your armor was unpleasant to look at, of course.” She busies herself with lowering both trunk and box down on the ground, then stands upright again. “Your city is utterly remarkable. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it before...”
Uriphiel stirs from his wandering thought and pulls a pair of white leather gloves from his pocket, slipping them over his hands when the woman speaks his name. “Ah. Miss Oohjmaeyik, nice to make your acquaintance - in a more formal setting, that is.” The rather tall avian rises to his feet and extends a hand to shake, a gesture that he had grown accustomed to offering to those who were not of his race. “Come to think of it, neither have I,” he said, in reply to her praise of the city. “Schezerade is something of an outlier for my people. It is young. Much younger than I first understood. As such, it was obviously built to reflect the wealth of those that had a hand in its construction. It quite differs from the fallen cities of our ancestor’s past.” While a courteous smile was put forward, those ever-judgemental eyes of gold began to roam the seamstress with the intent of searching out any sort of deficiencies in her character. She was astute, he considered. They had only met in one instance, but she was able to confidently pick him out among the various citizens that spent their leisure time in the garden. However, given the unique, and bright golden colour of Uriphiel’s wings, perhaps such a feat wasn’t all that impressive. He would at least give her the benefit of the doubt. The attire was admired next, for both it’s exotic colour and unique design. It reminded Uriphiel of a sunny summer day on the coast; A reflection of his youth, when in his leisure time he would sit for hours on end with his fishing line in the water, hoping to catch the ‘big one’. The whole ensemble really complemented her darker skin tones. Whether it was intentional or not, Iintahquohae was clever to don such an outfit, for it provided the proper cover to hide the fact that she was one who walked among the dead. It was no great secret that the avians hated vampires - at least, that was the consensus in the time that Uriphiel had initially come from. Although he would not know of her disorder initially, the erstwhile Knight could sense that something was off with this woman, but he would not outwardly reveal these thoughts. “Please, sit. Help yourself to a tart. They’re some of the best the lands have to offer, in my humble opinion. Imported from a quaint little bakery in Kelay. Also, if I may be permitted to say so, your attire is quite striking. Highly unusual in its design, but not unwelcome to the eye.” The Shar seated himself, reaching for the tea pot and a pouch of peppermint tea. He would offer his guest a choice from the large selection of presented flavours if she was interested, and pour accordingly. “So, tell me miss Oohjmaeyik, how long have you been working in your trades?”
Iintahquohae accepts his hand with her own, gloved as well, though yellow silk to match her ensemble and not the usual black she resorted to. It's odd, peering up to a person taller than she. With her height at an even six feet, the seamstress is far more used to looking down upon others. Retracting her hand, she turns and lowers to a crouch to begin unfastening clasps on the trunk and jewelry box she brought with her. Small talk was something that she admittedly had trouble with, but she listened, acknowledging Uriphiel's description of the floating city. He's older than he appears, then. Her life was her work and it was all she really talked about. Since her siring, it seemed it would be her entire existence, for which she was grateful. To support her parents until their passing was a gift from Sven. The orphanage she lived in until they adopted her in Cenril could be funded until...Whatever happens to a vampire, once they become too old. Iintaqhuohae found herself lingering on this very thought several times as of late. Then she remembers Sacred, Kasyr's gift passed to her upon her siring. That would take her in the end. As long as she bore the burden of the weapon, she could still do what she believed to be right. Of course, the Shar would know none of this. She made no effort to hide what she was. His offerings are met with a brilliant smile, though with her head lowered, while she lifted the trunk open, Uriphiel may not catch a glimpse of her fangs. “Oh?” she replies. “My mother might disagree. She is the second best baker in Cenril after all.” Her laugh is soft as she stands upright again. Pleasantries first it seemed. Showing off her work second. His comments elicit another rare smile, and she joins him to sit. “Thank you. Is that peppermint? Oh! - I learned to make clothes from my father. Jewelry from Mother. They started to teach me the moment they took me in, so...I would say since age seven or eight, until now? A little over twenty years.” She is pushing thirty, she knows, but cannot remember if she is twenty-nine now or actually thirty. Vampirism kept her appearance youthful, having been turned at the age of twenty-two. “What about you, Mister Shar? How long have you worked in yours? Or is it just Shar?” An apologetic expression mars her features. “I tried to brush up on your people's titles and I'm afraid I'm not sure that I understand. Please forgive me.”
Uriphiel looked upon the seamstress’ belongings with a curious eye, pondering what sorts of trinket and wares she had brought with her. As was the usual procedure for those with ulterior motives, the Shar would indeed focus on the pleasantries first, making sure that he could appropriately get a feel for who this woman was. “Yes, it is,” he replied, slipping a bag into her cup. He assumed that she enjoyed peppermint. “Ah, so you are of a lineage? Are your parents' works well known? Or was this some sort of more leisurely trade work that they enjoyed? Twenty years is nothing to shake a stick at. It speaks of dedication.” A cordial smile lifts the corners of his mouth, although it was soon obscured by the steaming cup as the avian took a sip of tea. When Iintahquohae struggles with how to address the Shar, Uriphiel quickly assesses her discomfort and attempts to dispel it. “In my culture, one would address me as Uriphiel-Shar. Name first, then rank. A Shar is, hm, what I believe you would call a Colonel? I am slightly uncertain of the common word. My position in the Empire is one that leads a Battalion. You may refer to me, simply, as Uriphiel if it is easier.” If Iintahquohae had been an avian, she would have been given the third degree. To flub one’s rank is to insult them to their face. These thoughts of rank were quickly removed as Uriphiel answered her previous inquiry. “That is a question with an answer of duality. I, much like yourself, started in my youth. In fact, I missed mandatory conscription because of my family’s trade. You see, my lineage is one that expands many generations. When my city still existed, the name Phandarion was one that was known well throughout the land. We crafted very rare and valuable pieces, often as gifts for the royalty of the many kingdoms. So, when it came time for me to join the Empire’s ranks, I was given a reprieve so that I might carry on my family’s legacy one day.” The Shar reaches for a tart, taking a small bite; He could not resist the temptation. “I worked in the market just into my twenties. I grew bored of the trade at first. I moved onto school for enchanting, and then into the Empire’s ranks a few years after that. It wasn’t until my role as a Knight that I took up the trade once more. Those days were so very long ago, but I would give an estimate of, perhaps, one hundred, or maybe, two hundred years?” Uriphiel reached over to the box with the glass top that had been situated on the table and slid it over to Iintahquohae. “I am uncertain as to how much of this is still out in the world. I have not been present for, well, the better of two thousand years. I found this in the archives, relics collected as a reminder of our history.” Inside the box were multiple pieces of jewelry; A variety of rings, bracelets, and necklaces, about twenty items in total. They were old, but the craftsmanship had held strong over the millennia - a testament to the skill of the former creators. On each piece was a small engraving, a symbol that looked like a P and an H in common tongue, merged as one. It was the Phandarion family signature. “I hope to carry on my family’s legacy one day. However, there have been other matters a little more pressing that I need to deal with.” Something big was brewing in Schezerade lately. There had been talk of change coming. If Iintahquohae had been taking everything in along her way to the topiary garden, she might have seen multiple fliers or banners all around the city, advertising multiple candidates for senate. As Iintahquohae was an outsider, Uriphiel would not go into specifics, instead turning to focus on the reason he chose to meet with her. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to see your wares, now. I would like to see the quality of your work.”
[Iintahquohae] “I suppose I am, yes, though I wouldn't say that we were very well-known until I took over...” she chews on the question posed, considering her parents' ancestry and the development of their business. “We – excuse me, they. They were merchants first. Textiles, jewels, books. Then my great grandfather on Father's side decided to pick up a needle and thread himself and make something with a shipment of wool that went unclaimed. Eventually he became talented and reliable enough that folk in Cenril would ask for him to make clothes. Simpler things than this, then.” She gestures to her ensemble with one hand, accepting the cup of peppermint tea with the other. There's a very brief moment of hesitation that is apparent on her features, usually something she would make an effort to conceal. Judging others for their clothing is one thing; It's par for the course for her work. Assuming one's personality and opinions was another. This avian seemed very...orderly, in the manner he carried himself. Lawful. Though perhaps all of them carried themselves that way. Hoping her explanation of her family business's history doesn't sour the mood, she continues explaining. Better to lay all the cards out than keep secrets. It isn't her style. “Grandfather was an overly greedy man, so we kept the tailoring business and it flourished, and used the family's ships to import things under the table, so to speak. Smuggling, bluntly. Father carries this...tradition...” uttered with some disappointment, despite having a hand in it. She wanted out. “-on to this day. Clothes are his first passion. Jewelry is Mother's – she is an elf of Sage, however. Money is their second passion, and I suppose mine. For security.” Without outwardly saying that she dips her toe into her father's smuggling business, she goes against her own beliefs and assumes Uriphiel can connect the dots. Whether he does or not, Iintahquohae continues. “All that to say, we're very successful now. I'm able to give back to my community with the wealth. Now I'm dressing the Queen of Larket, making jewelry, enchanting fabric to keep it warm and dry with what little skill I have with magic. Eventually I'd like to make wands. Admittedly, I'm not great with using magic. It's easier to enchant something than try exerting myself with say, launching a ball of fire at someone in a fight.”

A pause follows, in which the seamstress takes a sip of her tea and nods along to Uriphiel's explanation of avian titles. “Then I shall call you Uripiel-Shar. Thank you for explaining. I hope I didn't offend.” The explanation he provides of his upbringing and acquiring his skills is fascinating. His skill with jewelry making must make hers look sub-par in comparison. And it does, she realizes, as the box is slid over to her. She makes no move to open it or touch the contents, merely marveling at their craftsmanship from the glass window she peers into. “These are beautiful,” she murmurs, breathless. “Timeless. Absolutely stunning. Why...” she casts a glance at her jewelry box, reaching for it. Once it has been opened, she mirrors his actions and slides it over to Uriphiel. The pieces in her slightly larger box are neatly organized but loose, permissible to pick up and examine up close should he want to. “You are leaps and bounds more talented than me with this.” A slight blow to her pride, but the seamstress knew this isn't where the bulk of her skills lay. Clothes were where her hands worked best. The jewelry pieces crafted by her are simple, delicate things compared to the choker around her throat. Wisps of carefully worked silver and gold encircling rough and faceted stones to form pendants, bracelets, and circlets.Simple bands made of various metals and bone, some set with stones but very few. Decorative, jewel-encrusted hilts of swords that lacked their blades, bangles and statement pieces with fine, though potentially to Uruphiel's golden eyes, amateur, filigree work. Like his work, each piece of hers had a signature stamped into the metal. An O slashed down its middle with an I. To her, the contents of her jewelry box pale in comparison to what the avian has displayed to her. Before she can get too absorbed in staring at his work, Iintahquohae turns to the trunk on the ground, holding the clothes she brought. “Oh! Yes. I brought a bit of everything. I didn't know what your tastes might lean toward. Where to start...I could show you the sea silk I make, or some of the garments I have enchanted?”
[Uriphiel] There was a change in Uriphiel’s demeanor when the seamstress revealed her family’s troubling history. He sat with his elbow on the table, the crook of his hand cradling his chin. His expression shifted a few times; Moving from interest, to intrigue, and finally to judgement. Luckily for Iintahquohae, Uriphiel’s position as a Knight of the land is one that no longer holds much sway in this era. Not yet, at least. No, in this time, Uriphiel considers himself, at most, a mercenary for the time being. One who would answer the calls of the needy, whether it be apprehending a felon on the run, or slaying pestering beasts that stalk the main pathways. Even then, his duties have been mostly focused on the rebuilding of Schezerade. The Empire was faltering, and the Avian race had been on a decline. The security of his people took precedence over all. Once Iintahquohae revealed that she had more lawful means of wealth, and that she had genuine, reasonable aspirations, the Shar relaxed a little more. “Interesting, to say the least. Your act of giving back to your community is one that is admirable. I know what it is like to watch one’s people suffer, unable to help them in that moment. I commend you on your efforts. I would also highly encourage you to pursue your dreams. I too lack any real affinity for casting, so enchantment has opened up a lot of avenues I never expected. Although, my own ability is somewhat limited. I really should look toward the Guild of Mages and finish my studies.” When she slid over her own box, Uriphiel wasted no time in examining a few pieces up close. He loved to study the techniques of those in the craft, to compare and make note of the different styles his fellow lapidaries used. Iintahquohae had skill, that much could be seen. There were minor faults, potential weak points, or strange cuts that could have used a little refining, but the avian was fairly impressed. “Please, do not insult your talents. Your work is above much of what I have seen in the shops of the cities below. With a little more time and guidance, I think you could have something of perfection. Even so, what you have here is still quite remarkable.” A soft, encouraging smile fills the avian’s lips as he lifts another piece to the sky, allowing the light to shimmer off its surface. Once he had gathered enough information, the Shar turned to the seamstress and nodded once. “Yes, please. I would love to see all that you have brought.”
Iintahquohae took no offense to Uriphiel's change of expression when she explained what her family did. It was a difficult thing to discuss, but truth mattered more than hiding behind masks. His compliments are met with a smile. “It's the right thing to do. Cenril is...” she considers her phrasing, concerned with sounding too crass. “A work in progress. I try to shuffle my father's men into doing less unsavory things, like fixing the townsfolk's roofs. Home repairs, that sort of thing. I don't believe it'll ever be enough to tip the balance back for what my family has done, but it's a step.” Another sip of tea is taken, and she samples one of the strawberry tarts while the Shar speaks. Being a member of the Mage's Guild, his comments about it are noted. She'll have to make mention of him to Odhranos. There is slight unease when her jewelry pieces fall under his scrutiny, but the seamstress is genuinely surprised. “Really? You believe so? Thank you.” At his encouragement to continue showing her work she peers down in what feels like bottomless pile of clothes, masks, and swatches of fabric. Where to start? The bit of sea silk poking out from behind a pant leg and ruffles from a gown draws her eye, so it is retrieved first. The fabric is feather-light, and almost appears to float when she pulls a length of the drapey material from the trunk. It has been dyed a powder blue, and reflects the light of the sun subtly as it moves. The fabric itself is softer than regular silk, and despite its thinness it retains heat surprisingly well.

“This is my pride and joy,” she explains, draping it over her hands to present to the Shar. “Sea silk. You may want to take a glove off to feel it. I harvest the byssus myself off of the coast every morning, clean, spin and weave it on my loom every day that I'm home.” Her eyes, normally a dull and muddy brown, seem to almost soften when she gazes upon the material. “It's an act of devotion to make it, for Selene and Zaytor.” Leaving the piece of silk in Uriphiel's hands, Iintahquohae turns to retrieve more items, stooping to pull the trunk closer so he can peruse at his leisure. The trunk is filled to the brim with brightly colored gowns, some of which have fabric enchanted to change color, pick and unpick embroidery to create different patterns, or retain heat. Regular clothes are found within as well, of simple make but the materials used are of higher quality, but it's apparent that her typical clientele tends to lean feminine and luxurious. There are masks crafted into the heads of various beasts, incorporating her skill with fabric and jewels to create the pieces. She feels a bit silly presenting one crafted to appear like a hawk's head, with its plumage crafted from dyed feathers dusted with gold to imitate some unnatural irridescence. Its eyes are created from chips of amber, carved to appear stern and fierce. Hopefully, Uriphiel doesn't take offense. Setting it down, she has to stifle a laugh upon locating a swatch of embroidery that is clearly not from her hand. On a square of muslin that she lifts into her hands, Iintahquohae shows the Shar a crudely embroidered approximation of a bird, soaring high above the sun. “This is from Miss Maria, one of the little girls I teach embroidery to at the orphanage in the city. I told her that I was visiting your city and she insisted that I give this to an 'Eagle Prince'. I hope you can accept it.”
Uriphiel places the piece of jewelry he had been examining back into the box as gingerly as he could. He really did think that her work was promising. If her tailoring was on the same level, then he could see this woman as someone that Schezerade might do great business with. The Shar stares upon the presented fabric, hesitantly slipping off his gloves so that he could get a proper feel for the delicately woven sea silk. It looked clean enough. Once it was in his possession, the avian held it up to the light much like he had with the jewelry, marvelling at the quality of the seamstress’ work. “I am not sure I’ve ever felt silk so soft. It’s also quite beautiful,” he stated, running his hand along one side of the fabric. Without asking, Uriphiel then grasped the material firmly with both hands and pulled, testing its strength. Thankfully, it did not rip. Before he could give any more attention to the well made textile, he was assaulted by more interesting pieces being presented. The first thing that caught his eye was a material that seemed to shift in hue. “What is that?!” he asked, reaching into the trunk to get a better view. The Shar had seen a lot in his lifetime. A lifetime that expanded hundreds of years - Yet he had never seen anything that had the ability to shift color in such a way. He was dumbfounded. It was a very clever use of what he assumed was enchantment! “You made this?! It’s absolutely marvelous!” Before Iintahquohae could even respond, Uriphiel shifted his attention to another of the seamstress’ works, and then another. Occasionally he would wrinkle his nose, but that seemed to only be when something baring the color green came into view. The masks were to be admired, with the one resembling a hawk picked up for a much closer inspection. Given the smile upon his face, it was most assured that he stood far from the realm of offense. “Truly, you are gifted, miss Oohjmaeyik. I mean not to insult you with my words, but this; Your work in tailoring, is your true calling. Not that you are unskilled in your lapidary work - hardly the case. It’s just that these wonderful creations are, in my opinion, works of art.” When Iintahquohae found the piece of embroidery and presented it to the avian, he fell silent. Unlike the seamstress, the expression that fell over the Shar’s was one that appeared quite serious. He reached out and took the crudely made artwork, staring upon the depiction of a bird and sun. It spoke to Uriphiel in a way that he did not understand. It was simplistic. Childish, even. And yet, it held a truthful elegance. Flattered, a soft smile rose to the surface. “I am hardly a Prince, but I would gladly accept this gift. Please, tell this Miss Maria, that it is the most beautiful work I have ever received, and that I am greatly in her debt.” One of the avian’s massive wings carefully folds between himself and the seamstress, and he once more falls quiet for a moment. It wouldn’t take too terribly long before he found what he was searching for. With a wince, Uriphiel plucked a large, healthy, golden feather, one that was in its prime and nowhere near ready to molt. “In fact, if it is not out of your way, I would like you to present this feather to the young girl - A gift for the most kind of all the land dwelling princesses.” He would give her time to accept the feather, and await any sort of reply, before reaching under the table for the bag that had been carefully stashed away.

“Speaking of gifts - I believe that these are for you. As a symbol of my gratitude for your visit,” he said, placing two full ingots of true steel onto the table. Uriphiel leaned down, soon to reveal three more bars of equal size. To those unfamiliar with the prized metal of the avian society, they would look heavy, comparable to any other ingot of metal. However, upon lifting, one would find that the weight was significantly lighter than any other metal in the land - even that of mithril. “I hope this will be adequate for the time being. Although, in truth, my motives for this meeting have not been entirely revealed.” Urphiel took a sip of tea and folded his hands over one another as he sat up and took a more business oriented posture. “Shezerade is a city of youth. A city much younger than I. Those that had been built before it, are now sadly lost to the ages. Compared to the more prominent races of this land, my people have become few. Our Empire is merely a shadow of what it had been so long ago. But, things are changing. You see, the youth of our city; Their ideals are great. They long for progress and change, while those that long for tradition have been reduced to stagnation. The old blood flaunts their wealth. Instead of putting it to good use, instead of using it to rebuild our fallen empire, they crafted a city of pure decadence - a city to make those that dwell below seem inferior. Their hubris, their reluctance to adapt - it has put our people into decline.” There is a visible look of annoyance plastered over the Shar’s face as he spoke, although he would try his best to hide it as he continued. “As I said, things are changing. I have been working with the populace to try and get our society back on track. We are hosting an election later in the year to replace the empty seats of the Raan. Even those currently fulfilled are in contention. Despite my weakened status in the Empire’s ranks, I have also been seeking new opportunities for trade. Partnerships that are both mutual, and beneficial to all involved. While I may not have the ultimate say in what this city does, it is with hope, given my influence and experience, that the new governing body of Raan will be open to forging alliances with those that I have already formed diplomatic ties with. Which… is why you are here. I am quite impressed by the quality of your tailoring. Granted, much of it is obviously crafted for those that walk the land below, but I am certain that you could design pieces that would be revered by the people of Schezerade. In fact, if you would like to pick out a few pieces from your collection, I could talk with the local shopkeepers to have them put the items on display - temporarily that is. A loan for a short time, so that the people, the youth, could share their own thoughts on your work. And then, if things fall into more favourable conditions later in this year, we could forge a business relationship of some sort. Material. Gems. Gold. It could become a very lucrative endeavor.” Uriphiel would pause here for a moment, giving Iintahquohae time to process what he had revealed. He wanted to gauge her reaction, to see how she might feel about a future opportunity to work with the floating city.
[Iintahquohae] “Isn't it?” Iintahquohae practically beams at his admiration of the sea silk. “I can't take credit for it. What you're touching is absolutely a gift from the gods. I just weave it and hope that if one day either of them pop out of the sea, it'd meet their lofty standards.” While Uriphiel examines more of her work, she wishes she had brought along more. Her sense of pride swells. This is the praise she loved to hear. “Thank you,” is all she can say, grateful for each compliment given. “Thank you. O-oh-” His silence when she presents Miss Maria's piece of embroidery discourages her, uncertain if it did offend him or not. Then he smiles, and relief washes over her. She smiles in kind, only to immediately feel like she's floundering again when the avian extends one of his great, golden wings. “I...Oh! You're...Is that-” He is removing one of his feathers? There's a momentary look of shock on her face. She falls back to making assumptions again. Wouldn't plucking a feather hurt him? The act itself seems far too personal, too intimate. And yet he hands it to her as if it is nothing. The seamstress is grateful she kept her gloves on. Touching it with bare hands felt like it would be inappropriate. She turns it carefully in her hands by its quill, admiring the golden hue. This is going to make that little girl's day. The seamstress voices such in a hushed tone, as if the Shar had given it to her to keep for herself. “She is going to be over the moon the next time I see her.” Iintahquohae can picture it now, the red-headed toddler weaving the feather into a flower crown and proclaiming she is, in fact, the loveliest princess in all of Lithrydel. This Eagle Prince said so, so it must be true. “Thank you, Uriphiel Shar. I'm going to take it to her as soon as I return home.” Where to keep it for now without damaging it, though? She considers tucking it behind an ear or weaving it within her braided hair, but both actions felt disrespectful. Stowing it away in a pocket would surely crush it, so she settles on tucking it behind her ear and hopes it doesn't appear offensive. “I hope Miss Maria doesn't mind me borrowing her crown until I see her,” she jokes.

The presentation of the true steel ingots catch her by surprise. She had entirely forgotten about her initial intent for visiting the Shar and his city. While reaches to lift one up to examine, she breathes an audible gasp at the lightness of it. “This is more than adequate!” she exclaims. “Thank you so, so much, Uriphiel Shar.” While turning the ingot in her fingers to look it over, her movements slow just a hair at the notion of an ulterior motive for her invitation here. Brows raise and she sits up, adopting a similar pose to the avian while setting the ingot down on the table with the others. She processes his words carefully, initially wondering if he may be wanting something related to the smuggling nonsense she discussed earlier. Relieved to hear that it doesn't appear to be the case, her gaze softens from one of calculation to some understanding. So he's a politician of sorts, she deduces. She knew the type. Not one to try taking such a position for herself however, the seamstress eyes the avian differently, falling upon assumptions again to her distaste. She didn't like to assume but now to her, he seemed to be ambitious. A leader. She admired that, especially if working with him potentially opened new avenues of trade. His explanation of Schezerade as a shadow of the Empire's former glory elicits a brief look of incredulity. It used to be more grand than what she has seen so far? Impossible. Everything she had seen in her very brief time in the city seemed so pristine, so opulent. If she were an avian, the seamstress thinks she would feel proud to call this place her home. The thought of helping monetarily springs to mind, considering her clothes likely wouldn't be enough to make a floating city look any more grand than it already does to her. But bankrolling the construction of a building or repairs didn't seem like an appropriate offer. Avians seemed like very proud people, a feeling she knew all too well, and she worried offering to help may be misconstrued as a handout. Her eyes settle on the box of Uriphiel's jewelry, while one of her hands drums against the thick metal of her octopus-tentacle choker while gears turn. Maybe she could commission him for a piece? “Why don't you keep the lot?” she suggests, dipping her chin to both the trunk of clothes and masks, and her box of jewelry. “I trust they'll be safe here, and if anybody likes what they see, I'd be more than happy to make more. Anything you might like.” Her dull brown eyes look Uriphiel-Shar over in a way that may look inappropriate to onlookers, and possibly even himself, but she's guesstimating measurements, dressing him with her eyes. Any shade of blue would look marvelous on him, the seamstress believes. Perhaps darker greens as well. Warmer colors would make him shine too; Anything that may make the gold of his eyes and feathers more striking than they already were. “If you want, I could try making some things for you as a test? Also...” She considers removing the choker to present to him. “If you aren't busy, do you think you might be able to make something for me sometime? A choker like this one. I'd pay you, of course. However much you would like.”
Uriphiel steals a bite of one of the strawberry tarts, a nod given in reply to her grateful words when she received the gifted bars of metal. He was happy to have put her in high spirits; It would signal that their relationship was favourable, and that she might be quite open to working together in the future. “That would be quite agreeable,” he said, dusting crumbs from his face with a navy blue handkerchief. “You have some very interesting and valuable pieces to display. I have a feeling that they will become quite popular with the current generation of Avian youth. It is my intention, if and when the seats of the Raan are filled, to establish a large industrial market to help with the city’s growth. Your work, if you find yourself interested, would be instrumental in revitalizing the fashion district of our society. I will speak with the tailors in the area, those that might help you understand our needs when it comes to design, and set up some sort of meeting at a later date.” There is a sense of pride emanating from Uriphiel now, a smile baked in satisfaction. He was never one for the more intricate endeavours of politics, but there was something about taking part in the art of statecraft that filled him with a strange delight. Nonetheless, this was only a temporary position. Once the new chamber of Raan was established, he could go back to his training and fortify the strength of the ailing Empire. When Iintahquohae presented her offer, Uriphiel almost declined. He didn’t really need a whole lot in the way of clothing, as most of his time was spent wearing his armor anyway. Then it hit him. “You know, I have been contemplating having some sort of business oriented, formal suit made. There are a host of events coming up, and I would like to look my best. Trousers, shirt, waistcoat, and jacket. In return, I would gladly craft for you, a choker. Now, when you say ‘like this one’, do you mean in a similar style as the one you wear? Or do you mean a choker, in general? Apologies, I just wish to make sure I understand correctly so that I do not produce something not to your liking.” Reaching for his tea, Uriphiel quickly adds, “Oh, and if I may be permitted to ask, what colours do you favour? Generally speaking.”
[Iintahquohae] “I'm really glad that you like them, Uriphiel Shar. It's one of the few things I'm most passionate about and I would be more than happy to help. Oh-! Really? Instrumental? Are you-” she repeats, eyes widening with surprise. Her work? Well, of course it could be, her inner pride insisted. “I...Well, I would at least hope that some of it is beneficial or good in some way. I did sew the sky together once.” The memory brings a smile to Iintahquohae's face. Realizing that the words she said likely sounded absolutely insane, she quickly clarifies for Uriphiel. “...In Vailkrin. Years ago. They had a war...Something monstrous ripped a hole in their sky and they needed a seamstress, so they...flew me up to take care of it.” It was a fond, if at the time terrifying, memory. Her eyes light up at the suggestion of making a suit. Finally, a break from ruffles and frills. “I could absolutely make you a suit. Anything you would like.” Immediately at the suggestion of creating the suit for him in return for a new choker, she removes the bulky thing from her throat and holds it out for the avian to get a better look. It's crudely fashioned compared to her other pieces, made to look like an octopus tentacle constricting her neck. “Father made it for me. It's really silly, but Inks is my nickname. When I was a child, Father took me sailing on one of his ships and I fell overboard.” Iintahquohae explains. “He swears that a kraken threw me back onto the ship, but really I got tangled in one of the fishing nets with an octopus, and they hauled both of us back up. I got sprayed in the face with ink...” and the rest is silly history. She rubs at the side of her now exposed neck, revealing slightly raised skin encircling her throat with what looked to be a black serpent's scales, along with two pairs of faded bite marks, one on either side. “I prefer blue. Pale blue, like celestite. Red was my favorite color before but,” she pauses, hand lifting to make a vague gesture at her throat and mouth. She doesn't bare her fangs, but the implication is there. “It's a bit too on the nose.”
[Uriphiel] At first, the former Knight of the Aether seemed pleased. Things, in his mind, had gone quite swimmingly. He was able to help someone get the material they needed, and in the end, he formed a potential business relationship that could last throughout the ages. “You sewed the sky?” he asked, somewhat perplexed. What a strange thing to say! Was she mad? Was she embellishing her claim? “I’ve never heard of this Vailkrin. Is this a land outside of Lithrydel? It sounds like they had quite the bit of a conundrum, what with their sky being... torn? How peculiar. It is lucky that you were there to give aid.” Given all that he has seen, he opted to give the seamstress the benefit of the doubt. He had never heard of a place called Vailkrin, before. Of course, he would assume it to be a land outside of Lithrydel’s borders. He knew that many of the old kingdoms had long fallen, and those that remained have all gone through changes in their names. Despite his attempts to get himself up to date on the current goings-on, this settlement of Vailkrin did not appear on any of the present-day maps of Lithrydel that he had seen. Again, the conversation shifted, and he listened quite carefully to her explanation of the mishap that occured in her youth. “I see! That is an amusing nickname, truly. I could not imagine it being so amusing at the time, I’m sure. Certainly, it must have been quite the ordeal to be tangled in a net, trapped below the surface of the water. Thankfully all ended rather well.” The warm, friendly smile that had been on display, faded quite suddenly when the gold of the avian’s eyes shifted toward the seamstress’ neck. A horrid, sinking feeling gnawed at the pit of his stomach as he tried to fight the nagging implications of what he assumed were bite marks. Perhaps they weren’t bite marks, he rationalized. They could be bug bites. Or, maybe they were indentations from the choker that she wore. She did say that her father made it for her. Was it in her youth? If so, then of course, she must have grown into it and it was a smaller fit. “Uriphiel-Shar! Sir!” A voice broke the troubling thoughts of the golden-winged avian, and he turned to see one of the Shim from his battalion running down the path. “Forgive me, Uriphiel-Shar, but you are needed at the barracks at once.” To which the Shar replied, “You understand that I am engaged in a matter of importance?” The young shim swallowed hard, “I see that Uriphiel-Shar, but this takes precedence. I would not disturb you otherwise.” Uriphiel sighs and climbs to his feet, addressing Iintahquohae with a much colder tone than the one he had adopted for the majority of their meeting. “Please excuse me. It was nice to meet you in a more formal setting. I will have someone stop by to collect your wares for display. I will also have my squire contact you soon with measurements, and further details.” That judgemental gaze fixates on Iintahquohae’s neck for a moment - a curiosity that he would deal with at a later time. For now, he would showcase civility. “May the Divine Three bless you on your travels.” The Shim that had interrupted their meeting was quick to gather Uriphiel’s bag from under the table, offering the seamstress a simple, “Miss,” and soon joins the Shar for the trek back to the military barracks.

Uriphiel

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RP:A Fashionable Offer