Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

Magic and Lace

Nasuada collapsed into a chair, stiff as a board while the Varden's desperate position was clearly on her mind.
Error sat across from her, genuinely concerned as he considered the plight himself. The acrid stench of the spilled concoction wafted over to him, ignored as he pondered if he could personally do anything about it himself.

The screech of chairs and Nasuada's stern voice wrenched him from his thoughts. He glanced over to see her standing, holding her arm out as the cloth around it smoked and disintegrated, Farica scrambling to undo the knots in the back.
Error stared in confusion before he remembered that it was beyond rude to do so. He looked away and hid his face.

"Did it burn you?" Farica inevitably asked as the shuffling lessened. Nasuada probably shook her head.
"What evil is this?" Farica questioned more.
"One of Orrin's foul concoctions. I spilled it in his laboratory." Nasuada answered hoarsely.
"It's a shame to lose such a pretty dress."

Error considered the possibilities before Farica spoke again. "We might as well save as much of the cloth as we can. I'll cut off the the ruined parts and have them burned."

He listened to Nasuada begin pacing, assuming they'd forgotten his presence in the heat of the moment.
"What am I going to wear to court now?"
"Mayhap your linen dress."
"It's too casual to appear in before Orrin and his nobles."
"Give me a chance with it, Ma'am. I'm sure that I can alter it so it's serviceable. By the time I'm done, it'll look twice as grand as this one ever did."
"No-no. It won't work. They'll just laugh at me. It's hard enough to command their respect when I'm dressed properly, much less if I'm wearing patched gowns that advertise our poverty."

A pause. Farica's voice rose up, determined. "It will work, so long as you don't apologise for your appearance. Not only that, I guarantee that the other ladies will be so taken with your new fashion that they'll imitate you. Just you wait and see."

Error heard the door open. "Your mistress wants this burned. Do it in secret and breathe not a word of this to another Soul or you'll have me to answer to."
It wasn't long until Nasuada addressed Farica with admiration. "How would I function without you, Farica?"
"Quite well, I should think."

A few minutes passed as Error listened to what only could be them messing with cloth.
"Are you decent, Nasuada?" He finally dared ask. The gasps from the two women were actually rather entertaining.
"How long have you been there?" Nasuada questioned.
"I'd forgotten he was there, I'm sorry M'lady."
Error chuckled. "It's fine, I've been looking away since I realized what was happening. I'm just impressed I went unnoticed so long. Is it safe for me to look yet?"

"Yes. I'm decent. I apologise for having you wait like that."
Error waved vaguely as he turned around, seeing Nasuada in her hunting frock. "It's fine, you were distracted." He saw the other dress on the floor. He gestured at it. "May I help?"
"You may." Nasuada nodded, then sat cross-legged on the floor as Error joined them, disassembling the dress.

"As for the creating of another dress, I'd like to give it a shot myself." Error struck up conversation as he used a sharpened bone attack as a knife on the stitches.
"But at what cost, if you were to do that?" Nasuada fired back, voice perfectly level.
"None. I've always wanted to make clothing. In fact, I made most of what the rest of the Wyrdaí Islingrya wear now. And I've worn a dress before, they're interesting to me."

"A man? Wearing a dress?" Farica inquired incredulously, even Nasuada pausing in her work.
Error glanced between them. "The gender roles where I'm from aren't as strict.. they're different. And it actually doesn't matter for skeletons; we're technically both genders. It's just that most of us identify as male." He went back to to his work halfway through his statement, not interested in their reactions.