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Post by Deyla on May 30, 2006 4:35:06 GMT -5
I used to hate my life, up until yesterday. Now my old life suddenly looks pretty good to me, and I wish I could go back. But, no, not possible. I turned 17 yesterday, and you can't keep living at the orphanage when you are 17.
Last week, they took me to see some gnome in Ironforge. That was kind of nice, what with all the new shops to explore and all. Mostly, though, I didn't have time to shop. They took three of us to visit the gnome. He hooked us up to wires and flashing lights and what-all. After awhile, I got pretty sleepy watching the pretty lights, so I just stopped thinking about the gnome and started thinking about that green dress I saw on the way over there. Green goes well with my hair and eyes.
A day or two later, I was called in to see Matron. She handed me a bundle of clothes and a letter to someone in some hick town called Northshire. She wished me well, but I could see her rolling her eyes at me when I walked out of the room. There was a cart waiting out front to take all three of us who had gone to Ironforge to Northshire. The other two were excited. I was not. Matron's plan, whatever it was, was going to mean work, I could tell.
Anyway, after a long uncomfortable ride, we arrived at our hick town destination. Another big stone building. Like that's supposed to be impressive in the middle of nowhere. I delivered my letter, and it turns out they think I should be a mage. As if.
If I were a mage, I would be expected to do things, study and the like. I would have to sacrifice how my clothes looked for how well they helped me do mage things. I would have to go out into battle, where I could die. Or be horribly disfigured. Plus, it's a lot of work, the sweaty kind that leaves dirt under my nails and a furrow in my brow. No thanks.
Now at the moment, it's not like I have a lot of choices. My bundle contains three changes of clothing, a tiny amount of copper, a little food and water, and a note from Matron reminding me that there is nothing for me in Stormwind. Well, there has never been much for me there.
So my choices seem to be do this stupid mage thing and get myself killed after a short difficult dirty life, go to a larger city and sell myself, or find a job. While I don't like the idea of more work, I like the idea of putting myself at the mercy of strange men even less. And there is just no way I am going to be a mage.
Without stopping to think about it, I made my way to the nearest not-so-tiny hick town, some place called Goldshire. There I poked around long enough to find a farm with a couple nice women standing around outside a house. I asked them for advice, with my best going-to-church manner, and they actually had some decent things to say. One of them gave me a sack of apples, too. And a pork pie.
Following their directions, I made my way to a big old house, which is apparently the residence and headquarters of a bunch of heroes. Not that I care. They gave me a small room and some things to do. They apologized for the amount of work they dumped on me, and I didn't tell them that the orphanage made me do a lot more, and more icky, work all the time. I can clean anything, but they don't need to know that.
Things could be a lot worse, I guess. I have a warm place to sleep in my very own bed that I do not have to share, even if I do have to share the room with a scullery maid. She doesn't snore, so what do I care? And they will give me money every week in return for my work, as well as feeding me. I figure I'll have enough money to go shopping in Stormwind in just about a month. And maybe by then, I'll have figured out something else to do besides run errands and make deliveries and sweep things and be nice to a snooty old butler.
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Post by Deyla on May 30, 2006 5:48:43 GMT -5
Just when I thought I had landed in clover, it got even better! They have mending that needs doing. Perfect! The snooty butler (his name is Johnson and he keeps telling me he is "the major-domo, Deyla, not the butler") handed me a pile of sheets to repair. I asked him when he needed them and he said he was sorry to have to tell me that they would be required when the servants' beds were made up two whole days later. Whoo-hee, there was no more than half a day's worth of work in his whole pile!
But I just nodded and curtsied in the awkward way I use with Johnson, to make him think I'm as stupid as I am young. I took the basket of sheets and the other stuff he gave me and found a nice window seat in some remote part of the Hall and sat down to mend the sheets.
I'm pretty sure some of these heroes never had to mend a sheet before in their lives. There are tears that can only have come from someone sleeping with their spurs on. Anyway, I set myself a nice comfortable pace and laid in neat darns, and repaired ripped seams with stitches more even than the ones that were torn out. It's not that I don't know how to do stuff. I just usually prefer not to have to.
Anyway, since Johnson essentially gave me permission to spend two days doing the mending, I did it nice and slowly, and let myself daydream some while I was doing it. Then I realized that he had also provided me with all kinds of thread and other stuff in the sewing basket. I decided to use some of it to update my three new dresses.
I'm pretty sure that the dresses came from the poor box at the Cathedral, because none of them fit right. I went ahead and altered one to be skin tight and nice and low-cut in case I ever need to be completely obvious. The other two, well, I'm no dummy. I learned a long time ago that letting a man think he might possibly be the only one who has noticed my charms gets me a lot farther than throwing myself at him. I know how to stand so that a man sees the curve of my hip without realizing I arranged for him to see that. And I know that a seemingly modest dress that reveals the body underneath only from certain angles is far more tantilizing than the more obviously revealing kind. One of them is a kind of deep blue color which makes my eyes look deeply green. I'm saving it for my trip to Stormwind.
Even with the free-lance sewing I did along with the required mending, I was hard-pressed to stretch the work over the allowed two days, so I spent some of the time exploring the place. These heroes are so serious! Except for the gnome with the twinkling eyes and his nasty little imp friend. I mean that in the nicest possible way, you know? The imp, who calls himself Pipniff, or something, has a chip on his shoulder the size of Ironforge itself. At the same time, he has clearly landed in clover, with a master who accepts the imp at his own valuation of himself. Unlike some of the other warlocks around here, who are as vicious and nasty to their slaves as they are to me and the other servants, Boswell is unfailingly kind and cheerful, and believes Pipniff when he tells him he is his best friend and advisor.
Pipniff took one look at me and suddenly looked very thoughtful indeed. Whatever he was thinking is bad news for someone, but probably not for me. It might even help me figure out how to get out of here. While slow piles of mending aren't the worst things I ever saw, they are not exactly how I intended to spend my life, either.
Other than Boswell and Pipniff, I didn't meet anyone who appears to know how to have any fun, besides the children. But I'm done with children for the time being. Living in an orphanage will do that to you, you see. There are people obsessively pursuing their work, others who are deeply involved in learning stuff, and others who are just quiet and morose. Something bad happened here recently, but I don't care, I'm sure I can find a way out of my stupid life here, if I just look hard enough. And in the meantime, I managed to make Johnson both impressed by my sewing skills and irritated by my el-fake-o resentment of thie "onerous" duty, so I feel sure I will get a lot more sewing to do. It really could be a whole lot worse.
I have only two more weeks before I will be ready for my first trip to Stormwind. I plan to buy a pair of pretty shoes and some ribbons, too.
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Post by Vangelis on May 30, 2006 13:23:03 GMT -5
(( Bravo! A wonderful introduction! ))
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Post by Deyla on May 30, 2006 16:57:06 GMT -5
Things are still going pretty well here, even though it's a lot of work. Less work than it was before I got assigned to the mending detail, admittedly, but still more work than I really like, especially since so much of it benefits other people, not me. At least not directly.
Boswell continues to be nice to me. He somehow convinced Pipniff to get me a communicator so I can know what's going on with these heroes. This should be useful, even though I haven't figured out quite how it will help me yet.
Johnson snottily told me that my sewing skills were suprisingly competent for a mere slip of a girl from an orphanage. He has apparently never met Matron, who has strong opinions about the benefits of working for one's keep as well as the kind of eagle eye and heavy hand that ensured that I, at least, did my damnedest to meet her every exacting standard. I hate being cuffed around even more than I hate working, but what can you do? Anyway, the butler has started giving me basic clothing repairs for the soldiers in the band of heroes, too.
There are two kinds of soldier here. The ones who take it as their due to be waited on hand and foot, and who hardly notice the people who do the waiting. The others are more do-it-yourself types who chafe against Johnson's desire to put them in a box labeled "People we wait on hand and foot". They are also the ones who notice that their clean clothes are delivered by people, not gnomish automatons.
Pipniff managed to let me know he understands me, perhaps as well as I understand him. The last time I took a pile of robes to Boswell, Pipniff was muttering something about a farmer. But I was too busy laughing and chatting with Boswell to pay close attention to his imp. I don't think Pipniff would tell me the truth, even if I asked him. Whatever he's up to, I will turn it to my own advantage as well as I can.
I received a note from the mage person in Northshire wondering where I disappeared to. In order to avoid burning any bridges, including ones I am pretty sure I don't want to walk over, I walked back to Northshire on my half-day and talked to him in person. I explained that I had taken on some personal obligations at the moment, and that while I understood that this was going to delay my training as a mage, well, it couldn't be helped. I simply exuded sincerity and a sort of naive helplessness that worked like a charm. He actually apologized for inconveniencing me and assured me that when I was no longer obligated, he would be glad to see me again. He also taught me to cast a couple spells.
I don't expect I will ever use the spells the way he intends, and they won't really hurt anyone with any power, but the shock of having me cast them may someday stop some event long enough for me to regain my balance. I can't imagine I'll ever want to conjure water, though.
I think I was wrong about the scullery maid. She doesn't snore, but she is way too chatty and friendly. I need to get her out of my room, but without drawing any attention to myself. She seems a bit squeamish, so I have been saving up crumbs of food from dinner. I put them down near the baseboards just before we go to bed and wait for the mice that inevitably live in the walls of a stone and wood building like this one to come out and snack. Then I wake her up with a squeal and say "What's that? Did you hear that?" She's starting to notice that we have scrabblng scrambling nighttime visitors. It should not be long before she asks Johnson to reassign her sleeping quarters. It will be easier for me to be mostly invisible if I don't have any particular friends among the staff here, or even people who think they are my friends.
While I was in Northshire, I sold all my things I don't want, and ended up with more than 2 silver worth of copper coins! When I add that to the coins Johnson gives me every week, I think maybe I will be able to get two pairs of shoes. Or maybe one pair of shoes, some ribbon and some lace to trim up one of my dresses. The key to being able to indulge myself is going to be getting someone to take me to Stormwind, so I don't have to spend my entire two-day holiday on the journey, and also don't have to pay for transport.
Things could definitely be going worse than they are. I could be training to be a mage or working for someone unkind or even reduced to taking strangers to my bed for a pittance. Instead, I am warm, well-fed, hardly overworked (even by my standards), and paid enough that I will have some lovely things very soon now.
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Post by Robbyn Jonathan on May 30, 2006 17:23:16 GMT -5
((hmmm....))
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Post by Deyla on Jun 1, 2006 13:16:44 GMT -5
I've been working on a stupid project that Johnson gave me. For some reason, he's decided all the heroes need clean handkerchiefs. Perhaps he watched Menshk blow his nose, or maybe he decided to irritate me, I don't know. I do know I cut out, hemmed and monogrammed hundreds, no thousands, of fine lawn handkerchiefs. Rolled hems and everything.
Then he sent me out to distribute them. What a frustrating activity! First of all, there is an astonishingly large number of heroes who don't know what a handkerchief is. Second, I ran into trouble with the heroes themselves, especially the gnomes.
Johnson says I have to call all the heroes "Sir", "Ma'am", "Lord", "Lady", "Warden", or "High Lord". Some of the heroes object to this in strenuous terms. "Call me Lizzy!" they say, or "I'm not Sir!" Have they never met Johnson? If he catches me calling them "Miss Lizzy" or heaven forbid just plain "Robbyn", I'll be in serious trouble.
How can I be invisible when people are always yelling at me to call them something different? And if Johnson notices me doing it, I'm going to get all kinds of guff from him.
Anyway, I finally finished the handkerchief project, for which I am grateful.
My room is now mine alone! Johnson called me over to him after supper a week ago to tell me that he was sorry that he could not re-assign me, too, but there are no more places for lower servants to sleep. He told me not to let the mice bother me, but now that I sleep alone, I don't put down food, so they never come out anymore. I pretended to be sullen about it, however.
I've never has a whole room to myself before. And a place to hang my dresses where no one will "borrow" them.
I spent my half day this week wandering around Goldshire. There isn't much to do there, but there are a lot of people. Admittedly, most of them seem to be relatively inexperienced adventurers of various kinds. I guess this makes sense when you realize it's walking distance from that stupid big stone building they call Northshire. After all, that place is crawling with trainers and orphans and people who have run away from home to learn some profession or other. Once they are barely able to take care of themselves, they seem to congregate in Goldshire. Like children let out of school for the summer, some of them are a bit rowdy. For a hick town, it's not as boring as you might think.
Still, none of the people I met there seemed like they could be very useful to me. And many of them seemed to be suffering from delusions of various kinds. I met three people who told me that they are "vampires", whatever that is. They seem to think that they drink blood, but I saw them drinking mead. Perhaps it's just a side-effect of drinking too much mead, that you might start thinking you are drinking blood?
I did mange to attract the attention of many of the young men, of course. It's reassuring after dealing with Johnson-the-impervious to know that I still know how to pour it on. There's something that feels very close to power ringing in my blood when I can draw the attention and desire of a man while he thinks it was all his idea, and has convinced himself that I am totally unaware of his so-called-covert interest.
Boswell has been away from the Halls gathering materials for some project, so I haven't seen Pipniff. it's probably just as well. The heroes don't seem to trust Pipniff very much. I continue to believe he will help me, not because he's helpful but because doing so will advance some impish agenda of his own. Still, it's probably better not to deal with him directly any more than necessary. Not least, it will keep heroes from helpfully advising me that Pipniff is bad news. He sure is. Just, at the moment, his target is not Deyla.
Only a week until my 2-day holiday! I'm still trying to figure out how to get to Stormwind. There is a pair of leather shoes for every day and a pair of silken slippers there, both just waiting for me to acquire them.
Good things about my life at the moment: safe, warm, well-fed, my own room, not too much work, people to pass the tiime with when I get bored, the potential to put Pipniff to use in furthering my own interests (or to benefit while being used by him, whichever), a growing store of coins that I can use to buy myself nice things.
Bad things about my life at the moment: boring work, Johnson, work that mostly is for other people not me, no real future, more work than is ideal.
It could be a whole lot worse.
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Post by Deyla on Jun 3, 2006 7:12:04 GMT -5
I snuck out of the Halls tonight while I was supposed to be sleeping. Actually, it all started a couple days ago. I couldn't sleep or didn't want to or something, so I pulled on the robe they gave me to wear to the bathing room, and wandered the hallways a bit. I decided to find all the kitchens -- heroes are always hungry so if for some reason I ever needed to find a hero, it would be useful to know where all the kitchens are. When I finally started to get sleepy, and I was making my way back to my attic room, I ran into Johnson.
Of course I did.
Now why Johnson was wandering the Halls in the middle of the night, fully dressed, I will never know. He seemed to take instant unbrage at finding me wandering around (which he would never have known about if he had not been wandering around, too!), so I pretended to be asleep. I don't know whether he blieved me or not, but he made it crystal clear he had better not find me wandering around alone at night again. I don't think he would have believed I was only interested in the kitchens, actually. I guess it's just as well I didn't try to find out by, say, telling him the truth.
But yeesh! Does that man have even one strand of humanity in him? I imagine his own journal . . .
Purchased wasitcoats today. One of them was a hair longer than the others. Had it altered so that I always look the same.
Bought more hair shellac.
Invented more useless tasks for the servants to do. It amuses me to set them dancing to a tune only I can hear.
Anyway, he thinks I'm some combination of unreliable and stupid, which was my intention, after all. Still, whether he admits it or not, I sew better and faster than any of the other servants, and I do everything I am told to do in the time I am allotted for the tasks. With so many people wanting to go out and have adventures (ick!), I think he is harder up for help than he lets on. After all, he hired me, when I showed up with no references or experience (other than being one of Matron's little slaveys).
Where was I? Oh! Tonight. Couldn't sleep again, or didn't want to. I didn't want to risk running into Johnson so I stood at the little window of my room and looked out into the night. I could see stars and the bulk of the trees, and faint patches on the ground where enough starlight got through the canopy to shine on the forest floor. It would have been beautiful, I suppose, if I were a druid or something. Since I am not, it just seems so empty to me. No real action.
Then I noticed a branch just outside my window, and to make a long story short, I managed to get down the tree, and was reasonably certain I could climb back up. I made my way to Goldshire, pretty sure that something would be happening there. And indeed, something is! A traveling fair is setting up just south of town! Maybe it won't matter if I can't get to Stormwind this month: I can just go and enjoy the fair.
I stood and watched them setting up the grounds, and fell into a conversation with a young soldier. We spoke of nothing in particular, and he stole glances at my body when he thought I was not looking. The usual...
Anyway, he made some reasonably uncrass attempts to get me to come upstairs with him, and since he wasn't as crude as many men, I was kind in wishing him pleasant and solitary dreams. I hadn't noticed but two people were listening to our conversation, and after he left, the fun really began.
First, a woman dressed in Twill but imbued with extreme arcane power approached me. She struck up a conversation, and soon had led the talk around to a band of heroes to which she belongs. In the most subtle way possible, she let me know that all the members of that band are not only women, but women who do not engage with men in any sort of intimate way. She certainly did not describe them as celibate, either, so I suppose I know what to make of this.
She was clearly leading up to asking me to join this group (having somehow mistaken me for a person who wants to be a hero and also wishes to eschew intimate contact with men), when the other listener took great umbrage at her words. He was a man of moderate bullk and loud voice, red-faced and rather abrupt. He seemed to feel that by merely inquiring whether I would be interested in joining her group, my new buddy was insulting me in the most deadly way imaginable.
He immediately offered me the protection of his band of comrades to protect my innocent self from the "perversions of this harlot". Well, that's not my definition of harlot, but whatever. In a very short period of time, both of them lost interest in me, as their conflicct escalated until I was certain one of them would punch the other.
It was amusing, in a way. I was the cause of a major conflict in Goldshire, and I did it by pretending to be considerably more naive and unperceptive than I actually am. Sometime later, Twill (having disposed of her opponent in some way I didn't quite follow, not being as advanced a mage as she is -- well, not being a mage at all in any real sense) began another conversation with me. Even after I explained that I had a commitment to Johnson's band of heroes, she was quite kind to me, offering to make me new clothes.
If she were a man, I would probably have accepted. After all, new clothes are new clothes. But in a world that surely looks down on women like her, it seemed beyond even my capabilities to take her offered gifts under such entirely false pretenses. I thanked her kindly, wished her well, and left town to return to the Halls.
It turned out I was wrong. I couldn't climb the tree back up to my window, but then I remembered the large swing doors built into the Beast Wing entrances, for the use of druids when they are animals. I crawled through one and made my way back to my room, this time being careful not to let Johnson find me.
And in a couple of days, there will be a fair to enjoy! It could definitely be a lot worse than this.
((This wasn't part of what I intended to write about, but it actually happened in Goldshire last time I logged her on, and I couldn't resist adding it to her adventures.))
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Post by Deyla on Jun 19, 2006 18:08:16 GMT -5
The last week was fairly exhausting. I worked hard all day and snuck out every night to go the Faire. The Faire is endlessly fascinating and quite odd, too.
It seems to be run by a band of folks cast off from what you would think was their usual path in life. They are taciturn, somewhat stand-offish, and carry an air of recklessness about them. They travel around the world, taking their own little Faire universe with them, and make a living off people giving them money and items in return for a good time. All told, it's a relatively raffish atmosphere, which I am sure is part of its appeal.
And it certainly is appealing. The place was crawling with humans, elves, gnomes, and dwarves, and there were plenty of taurens there, too. I even saw some undead visitors! People were eating and drinking too much (and puking in the bushes to prove it), shooting themselves out of a cannon, buying pretty things for their sweethearts, and playing all kinds of off-color Faire games.
I encountered a number of pleasant young men there. Some lovely women, too, for that matter. I chatted, and flirted, and giggled, and had a grand old time. I did not waste any of my own silver on purchases for myself, and hardly needed to anyway. I bought some fruit for a lost child, but otherwise, I kept my purse closed.
It was a marvelous week, and yet. Somehow, it was like eating too much candy. Darned fun while I was doing it, but ultimately unsatisfying. I spent much of today, while I was sewing, trying to figure out why.
I had fun, no doubt about it. I enjoyed the company of not a few young, attractive people, who were charming to me, and charmed by me. I laughed, I flew through the air out of the cannon, I had my fortune told, I chattered as if I had no cares in the world. And then the faire left town, and my new friends went off to adventure. I have no doubt they will forget me soon. After all, they are already fading from my mind, leaving only the memories behind.
Well, maybe not forget me, but tuck me away as a pleaasant memory.
I find I don't really want that. It's not safe enough. Plus, I really did get exhausted, what with the full days of work and full nights of fun. But mostly, it's not safe enough. I've never been safe, you know? I am not an orphan of the recent wars, with memories of a family to sustain me. I ws just a foundling, at a time when orphans and foundlings were not terribly common, or at least not as common as they are now. Me, a blanket, 6g "for her upkeep until she comes of age", and a plain silver chain around my neck.
I'm lucky that the priests who found me on the steps fo the cathedral kept the chain for me until my 15th birthday. And that they doled out the 6g to Matron over the years. Even in the hardest times, I got to eat meat at least once a day. And I still have the chain, although I never wear it. How could I?
And so I lived 17 years in an orphanage with no idea where I came from or where I might be going. I learned to work, I learned to be self-sufficient, I learned how to use what I have to get closer to having what I want. But I realized today, I've alwys thought of what I want in terms of what I don't want it to be. I don't want to be a prostitute. I don't want to be a scullery maid or even a lowly seamstress all my life. I don't want adventures or heroism.
So I asked myself, what DO I want?
I want to be safe. And I want to have something that is actually mine.
In the meantime, my belly is full, my work for the day is done, and I have nowhere in particular I want to go. I can sleep the night away and be -- I hope -- less exhausted tomorrow. It could absolutely be worse than this.
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Post by Deyla on Jun 20, 2006 19:35:17 GMT -5
Johnson is sending me to Stormwind! Oh oh oh, I am so happy that I am almost giddy. It seems he ordered some fabric from a draper there, and they sent the wrong stuff. He sent it back and they sent more wrong stuff. So he wants someone to go return the wrong stuff and get the right stuff. He said this to a group of us working on sewing new tabards for the heroes (explain to me why gold on red wasn't good enough for them, and they had to change it to gold on white? sew sew sew....). I immediately saw the other two girls' faces light up and saw him stiffen, so I kept my face as blank as possible ans asked him when the proposed trip was.
"Tomorrow."
I frowned and chewed my lip. "That's my half day. Let Jessie or Ramona go instead. I am meeting someone in Goldshire for tea."
Jessie laughed out loud, and chided me for preferring Goldshire to Stormwind. I just frowned again and kept sewing.
Johnson looked at all three of us in that frozen way he has, and told me, "You can have your half-day the day aftter tomorrow, Deyla. You shouldn't become too familiar with the rabble in Goldshire. I'm sure you would do better to travel to Stormwind, sort out the errors at the draper, and pay your respects to Matron Winsock."
I rolled my eyes, and pointed out to him that both Jessie and Ramona wanted to go, and would certainly be able to handle the task. He just narrowed his eyes a bit and told me that when he made an assignement, he was not accustomed to being argued with. Well, I imagine not! So I looked sullen and asked if I could run to Goldshire before supper to leave a note for my friend about tomorrow.
He grandly agreed, adding that if I missed supper, I must make do with leftovers.
There is no friend. There is no tea. But there are things in Goldshire I want to get. I saw some lovely ribbons there, in an odd mauve color that I really really like. I want to get a piece of fabric that goes with them to make a new sleeping shift, and I need to have the ribbons with me when I get to Stormwind.
I suppose I really will have to visit Matron. Luckily, she will be satisifed with a short courtesy call, and if I am speedy about the draper business, I should have an hour or two to shop. What with my wages and a few wagers I won at the Faire, I have just over a gold piece to spend, and nothing to spend it on except myself!
Tonight, a little shopping in Goldshire, and tomorrow, Stormwind! I've already convinced the groom who will be driving the dog cart that we should leave early. It was easy: a little shifting around on my feet so my hips rocked back and forth, lowering my eyes, and acting like I cared. Whee! A trip to Stormwind, and gold in my pocket.
It may get better than this, but not all that often.
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Post by Robbyn Jonathan on Jun 20, 2006 20:33:04 GMT -5
((wonderful wonderful Deyla. definitely your best work yet imho))
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Post by Deyla on Sept 21, 2006 3:51:47 GMT -5
So I went to Stormwind, just like I planned. Smitty had the cart out front just when he said he would, and we had a very pleasant ride into the city. Once I convinced him that he should view me as his little sister who needed to be protected from the big, bad world, we got along fine. When we got to the coaching house where he was leaving the ponies and the cart, he even tossed me a silver coin and told me to put it in my shoe in case of an emergency.
My first order of business was to haul the wrong stuff to the draper's and convince them to send the right stuff to Johnson. The right stuff turns out to be this heavy, dreary greenish grey material that apparently we will be sewing into something Johnson thinks that the heroes or their Halls need. Yawn.
Luckily, that did not take long. I was still in innocent little sister mode, so it was perfect for the stolid woman running the counter. Apparently, she also has a flighty little sister who needs taking care of. Anyway, she sorted out the issue relatively quickly, and then looked at my rather plain white blouse and blue skirt. She wrinkled her nose and then handed me a length of red ribbon, a lovely deep red. She said, "Sew it along the collar and sleeves of the blouse and you won't look so drab". I'm sure she is right, so I thanked her for her kindness. But I won't be sewing it on a dress that serves its purpose of making people think I am younger and more vulnerable than I really am. Instead, it will adorn one of my new nightgowns.
Yes, I am making myself a set of lawn nightgowns. It occurred to me in Goldshire the night before I went to Stormwind. When I was there buying the length of ribbon I planned to put on a new sleeping shift, I overheard a couple of rich girls giggling over materials in the little shop there. They were talking about making items for their trousseaus. I didn't know what that word meant, so when they left the store and I was alone with the proprietor, I turned on the charm and asked him. He told me it's a collection of things young girls make to take with them when they get married. He said that some girls even have special wooden boxes to store these things in, called "Hope Chests".
I like the sound of that: a place to store up things for a hopeful future, so I decided to make myself one of these trousseau things. Someday I might even find a way to have a Hope Chest. It seems that what girls put in Hope Chests are household items and sleeping clothes. I guess that makes sense. Once you are married, not only do you need to hold household, but there is someone who sees you in your nightclothes all the time.
So I spent some of my time on the way to Stormwind deciding how to allocate my funds. I decided to make three lawn sleeping shifts. One will have the deep red ribbon trimming it, one will have a shirred edging of the mauve ribbon I bought in Goldshire, and the third is going to have cutwork. I haven't designed my own cutwork pattern before, alothough of course I know how to do it once the pattern is designed. I was looking for a pattern to base mine on, when I saw Boswell draw some lovely images on the ground, in purple light, to call Pipniff back from wherever he goes off to. How cool would that be, to make the little gnome's patterns into the basis for my own handiwork? See what Pipniff thinks of me now!
I also bought some soft-but-sturdy cotton to make dish towels, and some tightly woven linen for bedsheets that I will trim with like on like embroidery. See? Household goods and sleeping clothes.
Thinking about a Hope Chest, I did come to the conclusion that for the future to have much hope in it, I shouldn't spend down all my money, so I got myself a little wooden box with a lock on it. Like a tiny Hope Chest, I decided, and I will store my money there. It's a long, flat box, made of some lovely wood, so dark and shiny that it's almost black. And it has silver metal hammered into the wood in a pretty pattern on the top. THe hinges and the bracings and the supports are all silver, too. I couldn't afford expensive metal, so I will have to polish the metal to keep it from tarnishing, but I can do that. The key I wear around mhy neck now on a narrow black ribbon that matches the wood of the box. The box itself is flat enough to fit under my mattress where no one can see it, and still not make the bed uncomfortable.
Once I had my supplies and the box, I made my way back over towards the Cathedral. As I drew nearer to the Orphanage, it felt like my feet were getting heavier and heavier. Still, I knew that Johnson would catch up with me if I did not make this call. I carefully waited until the hour right after the noon meal when Matron likes to lecture the girls who have not worked up to her standards about the wages of slovenliness. I heard many such lectures, you can bet!
I was in luck, too. The doorman did not recognize me, and simply told me that she could not be disturbed. I came prepared and handed him a note to give to her, and beat a hasty retreat. I was so glad to get away without having to see the woman that, well, I wasn't really looking where I was going. I turned a corner and ran into an immovable object. When I looked up, it was a largish man, solid and stolid, and wearing one of the new tabards I had sewn only a week or so ago. My mind raced, but I could not place him, and I concluded that he was not someone I had encountered.
Under the circumstances, I chose not to introduce myself, but stammered some kind of apology. My taking the blame for our collision seemed to embarrass him, as he responded by blushing just a little and then telling me to never mind, neither of us was hurt. I curtsied to him like a random serving maid, and took off at a run. As I left, I thought I heard him mutter something about an "old farmer", which kind of reminded me of Pipniff's mutterings, but I couldn't make any of it out, so I just kept going.
When I finally got to my favorite spot in the Park, I noticed that a lot of people were milling around, and when I made my way to the front of the crowd, I found that the firekeepers were setting up the festival fires. Glory be! I hadn't realized that the year was so far advanced!
Like all festivals, this one had attracted a crowd of people of all sorts, so I got to make a lot of new acquaintances, just hanging around watching them build and prepare to light the fires. I could not stay for the lighting, since I had to make my way back to the coaching house so we could come back to the Hall. Still, I managed to supply myself with festival ale (some of which I gave to Smitty, since his errands hadn't taken him anywhere near the Park or near the free ale tables set up near the fountain) and some lovely dried sausages from Redridge. Oh, how I love these things! They last forever, but when you shave them over a plate of vegetables, the flavors come alive in the mouth like no other flavor I have ever experienced. It almost makes peeling and slicing and boiling all the vegetables worthwhile (and you know how much I hate anything resembling work!) I wrapped them in oilcloth and then in a scrap of felted wool leftover from some project Johnson had me working on, and stored them in the Little Hope Chest with my money. They will be worth more than gold if I ever do have a home of my own.
So here I am, back in my small room at the Hall, with several projects to occupy me, and a Little Hope Chest with 1 whole gold coin and a few silver pieces, too. Another couple years of this, and I might finally be able to buy myself some real safety.
Life could be a whole lot worse, indeed it could.
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Post by Deyla on Sept 21, 2006 4:15:30 GMT -5
Boy am I glad I have my Little Hope Chest! Not only does it give me a place to store this journal, but its contents are there to tide me over when disaster hit. It seems that the band of heroes has disbanded. Idiots. This is enormously inconvenient form me, and that is once I worked out how to keep it from being a total disaster.
Before I figured out a plan, it was simply a disaster. I didn't have enough money in my Little Hope Chest to make a difference, in the long run, and so I had to go looking for more work. I had a stroke of luck, however.
The day we all packed up and left the Hall, I started on my way to Northshire, on the theory that even if I don't want to be a mage, at least if I were training as one, I would have a place to stay and stuff. Mind you, I didn't intend to stay there one second longer than necessary, but when needs must, then it must.
On my way, I stopped in Goldshire, just to read the board in the inn and see if there were any other interesting options. Why the inn is always full of swaggering junior adventurers, I don't know. Maybe it's that job board, full of stupid errands for brave folks to run. Go get candles from the kobolds. Collect ferns from under the murloc houses. Find my pencils that I left in the pig pen. Weird stuff, but these adventurers seem to eat it up. Eventually, I guess they get bored doing this scutwork for the local alchemists and move on to bigger and (one hopes) more interesting things. Or maybe not. Maybe that's all adventuring is, anyway, just retrieving things people lost in dangerous places, and picking flowers where there are those who might be inclined to argue about the ownership of said flowers.
Anyway, as I left the inn, I ran into one of the nice women who had directed me to the heroes in the first place (but not the one who gave me the pork pie). She remembered me, too. She shook her head at me when she saw me with my bag (it's a much bigger bag than I had when last she saw me, though), and asked me if I had been dismissed. I said, no, not really, just the heroes have disbanded and so they don't need a seamstress anymore.
She was shaking her head in commiseration when I said the word "seamstress". Then her head jerked up a bit and she asked me if I could sew. I said yes, and she asked me if I had any samples with me. Well, I did, since I had all my worldly goods with me, so I showed her the tea towels I had made myself, and then I showed her the partly finished sleeping shift with the Boswell-inspired cutwork on it. She looked at me as if I were a present sent from the Light itself, and practically dragged me into a tea shop and bought me a snack. Well, she called it a snack. I called it breakfast and lunch, and counted myself lucky that the packet of food I brought away from the Hall with me would last a bit longer.
Anyway, she explained that her nephew was going to marry a young woman form a neighboring farm, and they were going to get married in a real hurry. I guess I knew what that meant, but I just nodded politely with a small smile plastered on my face like I was interested in what she was telling me. It seems that in order to make it all seem less, uh, hurried than it's going to be, they want the bride to have a complete trousseau, even though she's only 15 and hasn't had time to make a full one. So to make appearances all right, the women in both families are sewing their fingers tothe bone trying to make a whole trousseau in only three weeks. She offered me a deal I couldn't refuse. They would give me a place to sleep (it turns out to be a little cubby hole in the attic of "Gramna's House", but it's cozy and private and well-ventilated, so it suits me fine, even if my bed is a pallet on the floor), my meals, and 1/4 of the things I sew for them. They can't afford to pay me money, but they have beautiful materials, left over from some old people who died, who were drapers of some kind.
But it has bought me some time. Even if this can't be stretched out beyond three weeks (and given the state of young Maybell's belly, I don't think it can be), it gives me a safe haven froom which to figure out what to do next. I think that the best thing for me to do is to try to find out where the heroes went. Maybe one of them can point me at something stable. But if not, well, there's always Stormwind. I have enough money now to rent a very tiny, very closed in, room in a boarding house, and when I leave here, I will have enough sewing samples that I should be able to secure myself work sewing things. and if worse becomes worst, I will go to Redridge and learn how to make those sausages!
It's not great, but by golly it could be a whole lot worse. I could be learning to be a mage!
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Post by Deyla on Sept 21, 2006 4:27:51 GMT -5
((Once I figure out a place for Deyla to live, I may have to put her in Lunari. I feel a little weird about that, since she is a purely RP character who will never level or quest or anything, and Lunari isn't really an RP guild. Still, if she's going to serve her purpose, she needs a home, and it better be the same home as the target of this entire nefarious plot. Although I see he hasn't logged in 14 days and Boswell isn't even in Lunari. So who knows?
What I do know is that even if Van doesn't want to play this out, I can't let Deyla go. She's too good a character.
Which means that even if I have to write one of my own, she's going to find herself an honorable, stolid man sitting on a load of rage and fear, and -- well, for what happens next, you will have to read it when I write it.))
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Post by Deyla on Sept 21, 2006 15:40:52 GMT -5
Mkay, the wedding happened. Five of us spent long days sitting in the parlor of the big house and sewing stuff for that spoiled brat Maybell, while she sat there and whined. Her feet hurt. She is getting FAT. Sewing is boring. Yeh yeh yeh.
No one told you to run off and get pregnant, you twit. You're just lucky that you have family who is willing to put aside their differences and help you out of the mess you landed yourself in.
But it is working out okay for me so far. I have a nice pile of household goods for my own trousseau, neatly folded and packed in my bundle. I can use them as samples now -- and there is some really nice work.
One good thing about Maybell is that she doesn't know jack about quality. Now, I like shiny and pretty as much as anyone, but I do realize that to be useful, things like tea towels and potholders need to be well made. I wanted the best samples of my work for myself, because that will impress people who hire seamstresses more than pretty embellishments (although I snagged some of those, too, of course). I did my best quilting for the potholders, for example, on the plain grey ones. The pretty red and white ones won't protect from the heat as well, but when she got to choose which ones I could keep, of course she palmed off the boring ones on me.
So it was easy to get useful, well-made items for my trousseau-and-sample-collection. Getting her to let me have the pretty stuff was harder, but I overheard her badgering her fiance one night about what colors for this that and the other in the small house they will live in on his father's farm. He was annoyed to be asked such a "girl" question, but he finally allowed as how he likes red and orange. So I made four really pretty wraps. There was a gorgeous sunset-like fabric in the stash of stuff from the dead old people that I used for two of them, with the bottom edge dark reddish blue like the sky right after the sun goes down before the light is all gone. The color brightens as it rises up the wrap towards the neckline, where it is a nice bright yellowy orange. I made them in two very different shapes, and while I would LOVE to have one, I knew she would choose them both. I also made a rich red velvet wrap, which was a cinch for her to choose, too. All three were basic in design and moderate in execution.
The fourth one is a deep green color, in a soft soft wool that I just want to cuddle up to forever. I knew the color would mean I got to keep it, so it miraculously fits me better than it fits her (she never even tried it on, so sure was she that her "Joey" would like the other ones better -- little does she know that the cut of the green wrap is such that no normal man would be able to tear his eyes away from any woman who was wearing it -- I really am good at stuff like that). And the stitches are so tiny that they are nearly invisible. I put a bunch of old lace on the collar and sleeves, too, so it's really beautiful. Her mother tried to convince her to choose it instead of the second sunset one, but she balked because of his favorite colors.
Anyway, we finished the sewing in time for the wedding, and they asked me to stay and help out with that event, so I did. I was planning to leave the next morning, when something wonderful happened. Well, wonderful for me anyway.
Granma Stonefield, whose attic I've been sleeping in, drank a bit too much apple cider at the wedding and fell down and bruised her hip. It's not broken or anything, but it hurts a lot and she can't really take care of herself until it heals. The priest who came to visit said it can't be healed with the Light because it's just an ache and pain (can that be right? from the way the priests at the Cathedral act, you would think that they could fix anything...), and it will take about six more weeks to fix up. Miss Bernice told me if I would stay on and keep Granma's cottage clean and cook her some simple meals until she's feeling better, they would continue to feed and house me. If I wanted to, I could even use more of the dead people's stash of cloth to make myself some winter clothes.
So I have an pretty good deal right now. I get along okay with Granma, even though she seems to like that airhead Maybell. She told me what she likes to eat, so I cook that. Every morning, I help her out of bed to a big cozy chair in the parlor, and set her up with a book and some knitting. (She's making baby clothes, of course.) Then I cook a couple meals, clean a couple things (while Granma provides a running commentary on how I do it, but I just grin at her and keep her little cottage spotless for her), and sit with her and sew. She tells me stories of the old days, when she lived in the big house with Granpa. She tells me what a looker she was when she was girl. Hard to imagine her any way other than old and mildly cantankerous, but the stories pass the time while we do our work.
Every couple days, Joe carries her over to the big house for supper and I am free to run to town and see what's what. Maybell spends a lot of time over here whining about her feet, her belly, and how dreary the work of a wife is. She should try being a homeless orphan if she doesn't like her life, is what I say. Even Granma, who dotes on her, finally told her to settle down and make some stuff for the baby. So she is hemming diapers. Right about her skill level, too, I think.
I'm sewing several new dresses, a jacket, and a warm cloak. I also decided to make myself some clothes to wear when doing really nasty cleaning jobs, in case I ever get stuck doing that again. I made a shirt and some canvas overalls. They will get in the way of cleaning a lot less than a skirt, and the canvas is very sturdy. When I tried them on for the final fitting, Joe saw them and his eyes got very big. I think I did manage to make them cradle my bottom just right, then. He's still besotted with Maybell, but she better watch out. That boy has a wandering eye and if she becomes too tiresome, I imagine he will wander right on out.
In the evenings, when the light in the parlor is bad, I knit socks and other things for myself. Depending on how long this all takes, I might need two bundles to carry my belongings with me when I go.
Once my current stack of clothes is made, I'm going to make tea towels, well-made and with pretty lace trimming. I will keep some and sell some, so that my stash of coins starts to grow again. Still, all this new stuff without having had to spend much money on the materials is a Light-sent blessing.
Granma was telling me about her travels when she was younger and she used to go to various trade places to buy and sell stuff from the farm. One place she went was a tiny little town that is now apparently more of a military outpost. Granma says that there is an amazing tailor there who might be able to teach me some new sewing tricks. I'd like to see that. Maybe I will get Boswell and Pipniff to help me get to Thera-more, if I ever see them again.
It surprises me how much I miss the heroes. I even kind of miss Johnson. He was so predictable and so easy to rile, and it was so fun to do it, considering how much he valued his dignity and unflappable demeanour. I knew I would miss Boswell and his imp, of course, but I also miss the general feeling of the place, full of energy and life. While I have no interest in adventuring myself, I do like the company of those who travel out in the world and try to fix it. Goodness knows the world can use a lot of fixing!
And for whatever reason, I miss the gnomes and their incessant "call me Lizzie!" and giggling. I miss that shy young soldier who blushed whenever he saw another person. I miss the elves and their unstudied arrogance and self-assurance. I even miss the dwarves.
And I miss having a room that is all my own, with a door to shut out the world. But even without a door, I have a warm place to sleep and reasonable work to fill my days, and I'm not having to spend coin to get food.
I hope for better from the future, but I'm not complaining about this, at all.
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Post by Robbyn Jonathan on Sept 21, 2006 23:52:03 GMT -5
((Sorch, Deyla is IMO your best charater ever. Makes me want to make knight in need of saving/torturing I'd make crappy old farmer though. Just please don't stop))
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