Tumbled in Tulle

Fort Weyr - Weaver Craft Workroom
A quiet workplace, this is not. A large, bubbled cavern, the Weaver Craft's area is a hustling, bustling, organized chaotic mess of activity. Work stations litter the room, tables with scraps of fabric, bits of patterns, notes and sketchbooks crowd the desks adding distinct personality depending upon the occupant's preferences. Several dress forms can be found, of various sizes and shapes; male and female, adult and child. Along one wall, bolts of fabric are stacked in a manner that likely makes sense to the crafters who work here, but may appear jumbled and incongruous to those outside the know. Light and dark, patterns and textures, weights and weaves, all jumbled in such a way as to look like a clash of color and chaotic mess. Along the wall are a series of doors, leading to various private work stations, offices, or dressing rooms. Toward the back, in what may be a quieter section, stands a low platform and tri-fold mirror, affording the customer an opportunity to examine their garment from all angles while allowing the Weaver to tweak and tuck as necessary.

Several hours ago, most of the normal hustle and bustle of the weaver's workrooms went and bustled on to… anywhere else. They were smart enough to spot a flight coming a mile away. But Aignes certainly couldn't outrun the chaos that she might have been the cause of. Back in one of the mostly private work-alcoves, the sea of tulle and ribbons and sequins-oh-my has settled much like Czarduinath has settled with her chosen suitor. Things are quiet, for the moment. Maybe too quiet. From within the depths of the fabric mountain rustles a hand that's probably not from a living mannequin and a very sleepy greenrider lets out a yawn.

D'lei had a meeting, you know, and then he was going to head home. That was the plan. Nowhere in it was a half-finished petticoat supposed to be draped over any part of his anatomy, and yet here he is. Well, here are his legs, at least, lightly strewn with ribbons but otherwise exposed, and there's a shoulder and… ooh, he even has a face! One that's been lightly adorned with a spray of sequins, admittedly, but still. He is /also/ not a mannequin… though he is living. Awake? Nooot yet, but he's getting there.

Czarduinath scoffs at any plans that aren't her own. The diminutive little green is probably scoffing in her sleep right now. As Aignes yawns and stretches that hand meets some resistance of something that definitely isn't her pillow. Is it a hand? A shoulder? That mannequin's torso that somehow got tossled over? Who knows. Either way the little contact is enough to have her scrambling up. D'lei can keep the petticoat. She'll just cling to that mountain of tulle like a blanket and stare oh so suspiciously at that face.

That's some high-quality scoff, there! Though Garouth is probably also to be blamed, because it's not like he had to make the delay. (But maybe the shadow-bronze was bored by that meeting, and took the opportunity for a diversion that ended up diverting those plans.) He's sunk in the shadows of his forest, now, just as D'lei is sunk beneath the wreckage of weaving, and… "Mmnh." He has been poked. His eyes open! "…so I didn't dream that part." That's a real, genuine, actual disembodied fake torso. From which it follows that - a turn of head later - yep. D'lei smiles wryly, face adorned bright with sequins. "Hi." Hello, suspicious stranger! How nice to see your face when it's not through a haze of dragonlust.

Entertainment could be Czarduinath's middle name, if she had one! Or a last one for that matter. But right now, the only shows dancing through her head are dreams of sugar-lizards. As D'lei begins moving (and talking!), Aignes and her tulle-mountain retreat a step. It might not have been visible through all the fabric, but there was definitely a stool under there somewhere and now she has it, and the high grounds. The suspicious glaring doesn't really abate at a smile, but she does have a question now that they're both awake. "Do I know you?" Dragonlust encounters aside, since they probably weren't exchanging names or pleasantries during that.

To properly answer that question, D'lei would need to take a look at Aignes! …which is a bit challenging, given all that fabric in the way, and the fact that he's already seen far more of her than is proper… also doesn't help. Still, he studies what he can as best he can, then… "Probably not." He shrugs one shoulder. "But maybe. I'm D'lei. Of Xanadu." Omitted: the word 'Weyrleader', aka the most likely reason anyone around here would know (of) him.

If Aignes had her way there would probably be even moooooore fabric between them, but there's only so much tulle the human arms can clutch while also making sure its covering all appropriate parts. The name gets a blink that's followed very quickly by an "Oooooh," Of recognition. She can fill in that Weyrleader blank herself. Or at least assume Xanadu doesn't have multiple bronzeriders named D'lei running around. That would be confusing. "I'm Aignes. Of Fort. Would you like some tea?"

It would! D'lei and the D'leis would have to go into some sort of battle royale thing, fighting for truth, honor, and the right to bear the name. And then the losers would go open a D'eli. Or maybe touch that D'iel. The corner of his mouth tugs up at the recognition, and there's a faint nod. "Tea sounds like a lovely way to meet someone." Even if it's someone you already met mid-flight. Or maybe especially then. D'lei sits up a bit, the petticoat shifting down as he does, and takes a glance around as if that's going to make his own clothing appear from the piles of fabric, which it doesn't.

Aignes gives a very curt nod as the offer of tea is accepted and as she stands up, she gives a little cough. "If you would, turn around?" Cause a girl only has so many hands and even though he has seen everything, she can pretend like that never happened. "There's trousers in that corner." Probably all waiting to be hemmed, but a pair is bound to fit close enough. Once distracted, she'll grab a muslin mock-up of a dress from one of the headless mannequins that had managed to remain standing. It's oversized, but that's just fine, even if that means more struggling with trying to get the buttons in the back done as she heads over towards the nearest hearth.

Denial, it's what makes the universe go round! The corner of D'lei's mouth twitches, but he nods. "I'll just check out that lovely corner, then." Which he does, turning away from Aignes and carefully maintaining that not-in-her-direction. His own propriety, well, he's not very concerned about that, but he does poke around at trousers until he find a pair that just look like he's trying to bring bellbottoms into fashion rather than being tights or tents.

May the odds be ever in D'lei's favor. At least the pants rack is rather extensive. Aignes may have missed a button or two on the dress, but it's at least a much better state. And a swath of that tulle is draped around like a shawl to cover anything she might have missed. Now she turns full attention at poking at the hearth. Kettle is full and still warm, although she'll move a bit closer to the flame. "I have some Nerati Black. and a Half-Moon Green. But no milk or cream. Sorry." Denial will just go on clinging to those mundane details.

Denial's good like that. D'lei does the cautious look around, like he's making sure that there's clothing to obstruct his view before he actually finishes turning. Which there is, so. "…green'd be nice." (That's what Garouth said?) D'lei makes his way over toward the hearth, one hand holding onto pants to make sure he doesn't trip over unhemmed bottoms and take himself out. "So… you a weaver?" He's guessing, but she does seem like she's competent in these current surroundings, sooooo.

Garouth may have had a green, but he can't eat it too. That would be cannibalism and that's frowned upon. At some point, Czarduinath will wake up and with a stretch she'll go on to strutting about her merry way. But right now, the dragon's still blissfully unaware. As the tea order is provided, Aignes gives a nod and fetches two cups from a cabinet that is surprisingly not covered in any fabric. Diffuser and tea leaves are also obtained and a nice warm cup of soon to be tea is handed over while she makes a mug of black for herself. "I am. Quilts, mostly. Or whatever there's a commission for." Not WHATEVER. Some folks have some scandalous ideas. Or just plain bad taste. Aignes does have standards.

Garouth is, fortunately for all concerned, not a cannibal. He's also not particularly clingy; he's had his fun (and provided it), and so there'll be no protest from him when Czarduinath departs to her next resplendent endeavor. "Thanks," D'lei says for the tea, and picks a wall to lean against while it steeps. "Heh. With the weather around here, I expect you have plenty of customers." He grins. "Do you have anything really wild right now? Like, bright colors, striking patterns, that sort of thing?"

With a grimace, Aignes looks over to the corner they just abandoned. "I'm sure I could find something. Although for the past seven I'd mostly been working on dresses…" Ridiculous, ridiculous dresses. Like the feathery, poofy monstrosity of an emerald ball gown she was wearing like it was completely normal before the whole flight-shindig went down. "Why? Are you looking for something in particular?" One sip of her tea and it's set aside to cool off a bit more. Right now, her staring might still be suspicious, but at least it's a less hostile suspicion and more… calculating.

"Ah, it's fine," D'lei says, then grins. "I just figured… well, my weyrmate's dragon thinks that the best color is 'all of them', and so I thought it'd make a funny gift. Sort of an apology for being late." A moment, then- "Well, really, more of a distraction. Something to wave at them and then sneak by while Leirith glees, so I can pretend I was there all along and they just missed me because of the colors." Yes, this idea is illogical and makes no sense, but also have you met Leirith? Because that's about the amount of sense she is.

Aignes hmms and taps her chin as she seriously thinks about this conundrum. "I might not have anything ready at the moment. Certainly not anything dragon sized… but would a sketching work? You can show her what you've been planning and in a seven or two, have something that is all the colors and then some?" She's all for this distraction. Because then she can pretend like making the epicly colorful dragon sized something was the reason she knows D'lei. Just ignore everything before that.

"You know… I think it might." D'lei grins. "At the very least, everyone will be so distracted by telling me I shouldn't have that they won't even think to wonder at the time." Admittedly, those weyrmates almost-certainly already know why he's late, because Leirith is a cheerleader and probably got the pom-poms out, but let's not go into all that just now. "And there's no rush, really. You know how dragon memory is -" a week, much like a month! "- and you did say you were busy with those dresses."

Aignes nearly splutters her tea at the mention of those dresses. "Really, it's better that those dresses aren't finished." Trust her. Unless the Bjork of Pern were about to stroll in and want ten dresses, they'd really have nowhere to be worn. Somethings really seem like a better idea while proddy. But she'll take that tea cup and carefully pick her way back over to her workstation and through the fabric mountain. "Leirith, so this will be for Xanadu's senior queen?" Leirith might not care about respect for station, but Aignes certainly does. "I know you said all the colors, but does she have a preference for pastels or metallics or jewel tones?"

D'lei tilts his head to the side. "…so, there isn't another formal ball coming up, then?" And here he was thinking he might get advance warning about the Fortian social calendar! Ah, well. D'lei has a sip of his tea, then follows Aignes back toward that fabric. "Yep, that's her." The one and only! "Though it's not really official weyr business, of course." It's just from the Weyleader. For the Senior Queen. Nothing official at all, nope! No stations to be respected whatsoever. "She likes bright," he says in answer to that question. "The sort of colors you see on a trader wagon, or at the gaming tents at a gather."

"I mean… I'm sure Harper Hall will have something," Aignes knows by now that every event can be a formal event if you believe in it enough. And if he looks around hard enough, there are probably hints at the Fortian social calendar in all the notes that are tacked up about deadlines. She'll nod as D'lei provides some more details. And while this won't be 'official' (no weyr seals or anything), she's certainly taking it seriously. "Wagons and tents… what about her own tent? A dragon sized quilt is practically a tent on its own."

"Fair," D'lei admits with a grin. They're Harpers! Events are kind of their thing. As for this thing they're imagining for Leirith… "Huh. That could work. It's… probably safer, honestly, I'm not quite sure what would happen if she tried to tuck a quilt over a clutch of eggs." Which… she probably would. "And a tent's useful for things, besides." Not that he wouldn't do something like this just for a joke, but…. it's nice when there's functionality, too.

Events are totally the Harper's thing. Good thing the Weyr is far enough away that it doesn't have to always be the Weyr's thing as well. A tiny bit of distance makes for great neighbors. Aignes tilts her head as she considers. "It would keep them toasty? But… I'm not a dragonhealer." Just the supplier of quilts. And quilt related things. Now that she's at the desk and has a little bit of an idea and notebook appears like a magic and some colored pencils. and the sketching starts. "We can mix some fabrics as well. And since this won't really be for protecting against weather… some cut outs to play with light as well…" This is definitely going to be more pretty than functional, but it'll be able to serve a purpose at least.

"Maybe too well," D'lei says of that quilt. No hard-boiled dragon eggs, please! But he's not a dragonhealer either, and so he shrugs, moving in to this 'tent' idea. He has another sip of tea as he leans in to watch the sketching, and nods. "Maybe hang some colored glass or windchimes in the openings…" Because shimmers! And sound! "I mean, I'd rather it didn't get ruined if there's a rain shower or something." It's a rather large project for that! "But it certainly doesn't have to the bivouac-grade. Just some colorful fun and shade."

Aignes has fully forgotten egg quilts and her hand is hurriedly drawing, although it's kind of slowed down by all the color changing. "You'll need to provide your own colored glass, but I can definitely leave places to hang it." She does nod about the concern for the rain and jots down a few notes about types of acceptable outdoor fabrics. "I was thinking maybe some parts of it done in macrame kind of like a hammock. I could make it in a giant lace pattern. Maybe even work in a hammock for you and your weyrmate." Why just make it for the dragons when you can work in things for the peoples as well?

D'lei nods about the glass. "I can do that." A crooked grin. "Suppose glass isn't exactly usual for quilts." Though, neither are sequins, and he's still got a couple of those stuck to his face. "Oh, I like that!" he says of the hammock-styling and also hammock. "Make sure it's sturdy, though… if it's there, it'll get used by the kids." Or jumped onto from Leirith's back by the kids. And otherwise exposed to all the various chaos that small humans and large dragons can manage, alone and in concert.

A lot of things probably aren't usual for quilts, but that doesn't mean Aignes doesn't have a supply of them anyways. Unfortunately, glass is not in her carefully organized drawers of miscellaneous materials. Eventually the rest of the workshop will get back into it's usual strict form of ORDER. "Sturdy, got it." Aignes nods. "I wonder how well sailcloth might take dye…" Sounds like there might be some EXPERIMENTS in her future. FOR SCIENCE!!!

"I've certainly seen colorful sails," D'lei says… though that's about all he knows about the process and how it works. Just an existence proof! He grins. "I think you've got the general idea, though." All the everything! Simple, right? Okay maybe not. "I should probably, ah… gather up my things…" Aka find his actual clothes that are his. "…and get back. I can send over some marks for retainer on this?" It's not like he expects her to know what to charge when she doesn't even know exactly what she's doing! And experiments - while great fun - do have a cost in the form of supplies (and also time).

Aignes takes a look at the draft and gives a nod. Close enough and so she carefully creases it up and stuffs it in an envelope to pass over to D'lei. "There's your distraction. And I can have Czarduinath pass on the details as they develop." It's going to be a process. But there WILL be progress and quickly, well, quickly considering the scale of this project. "I think I see some boots over there." And she'll mostly leave him to collecting his own things while she focuses on cleaning up the rest of the workroom.

"I'm sure it'll change along the way," D'lei assures, because it's like he's worked on big projects before. "But I'm looking forward to seeing it. And it is definitely going to be a topic of conversation, both before and after." Which might halfway be the point! He grins, then peers over to… "Sure looks like!" …actually, it's only one boot, plus a wooden carving meant to model a glove, but the other one is nearby enough to be found from there, and so begins the Quest For Clothing: So You Want To Get Dressed. And he does! And then he ducks over behind a changing-screen (convenient, how there's one of those here) to actually put on those clothes, and put his borrowed trews somewhere they can be laundered before he heads out to explain to his fine, lovely, loving weyrmate just where he's been and why he has designs for a glorious tent worthy of Leirith. (She will be pleased. (Leirith, that is. Risali, well… she's probably gonna give him a look.))

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