The Anachronistic Tailor (Played by May) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theanachronistictailor) wrote2025-07-09 01:02 pm
theanachronistictailor) wrote2025-07-09 01:02 pm
A slow walk to a shop flat...
Following class and at Thursday's signal, the pair of students made their way to the floor level of the University and across the campus to the main entrance with relative ease. Afternoon was shifting into evening, but light was strange down here. The Tailor accompanied on Thursday's left, but had hesitated to offer the crook of their arm for support in anyway--it might come off wrong, or offend. So they instead kept their bag on their left hip and kept their right side clear, keeping in step with their companion.
Thursday walked with her cane on her bad side, the Tailor noted. They supposed that made sense; it wasn't the leg that was the problem, it was balance, so a brace worked better when shifting the weight there. It also meant there was no need to avoid the swing of the thing at least.
"You said you lived above a shop?" they asked lightly. "I have a similar situation, it's always terrible cramped. What kind of a shop is it, if you don't mind my asking?"
Thursday walked with her cane on her bad side, the Tailor noted. They supposed that made sense; it wasn't the leg that was the problem, it was balance, so a brace worked better when shifting the weight there. It also meant there was no need to avoid the swing of the thing at least.
"You said you lived above a shop?" they asked lightly. "I have a similar situation, it's always terrible cramped. What kind of a shop is it, if you don't mind my asking?"
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Tonight, his pace was slow, and his walk slanting. Do not run into the Tailor, Thursday. He tried maintaining that distance. At least he knew there was someone there, should things go wrong.
"They never like renting more than a broom closet, do they?" She shuffled her grip in her massive carpet bag. She was regretting bringing it today. "It's a bookshop. 'Fraid my flat is the er... storage area. Barely have enough room for the bed. Now there's fuckin' sorrow-spiders bleedin' everywhere."
An intersection. Without checking the street signs, Thursday took an abrupt left.
Had he never been able to read the street signs before?
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Thursday's abrupt left nearly had the Pawn knocking into them, but with grace the Tailor corrected and stepped aside and back in pace. The thing about living somewhere was, you ended up knowing the crossways and the turns without having to pay terribly close attention. Turn here at the tea shop, keep straight past the butcher. Even so, it had been a little adjustment to do it from ground level for the Tailor, after many years looking from rooftops. They were more the one casting their gaze around to confirm their location than Thursday.
"I hate sorrow-spiders," they said with real disdain. "They're quick and hissy and they're frightfully persistent. Do you need help disposing of them? I'm an old hand, I--" oh, it would show their hand, and possibly sound like a boast, but they continued, "I dealt with a spider-council the other week, so a minor infestation shouldn't be quite so annoying. You don't have to say yes!" they added quickly, realizing how intrusive it might come off. "If you think you have it sorted, by all means, I'm--I realize that's a bit forward."
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"Not a fan o' the whole... eye deal." She nodded her head, and wiggled her eyebrows, in liue of occupied hands. "A spider-what now?" They nearly stopped dead in their tracks, but they really wanted to... well to be honest, they didn't actuallt want to go back to their shitty apartment, but they did want their bed. Which they couldn't get to if they stopped walking.
Something curled in Thursday's gut. The Tailor was too forward by far, and they could feel their control over thongs slipping. Yet...
They really hated sorrow spiders.
"Uhm. Sure, yea. The Maven's coming over tonight, so we should hopefully get there in time to uh. Not prepare but... have a sit-down? We'll uh, we'll be there before her."
ooc: said i wasn't busy and immediately became busy ToT
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"Oh. If you're alright with my assistance, then... yes, between the three of us, I think we'll manage it," they said, trying for positivity. "Like I mentioned, a small infestation isn't fun, but it's much easier to sort."
They cleared their throat. "A spider-council is when a lot, and I do mean quite a lot, of spiders merge. They don't tend to pop up in the inner parts of London, they prefer big abandoned spaces. I won't horrify you with how they work, we're already due for bad dreams. They're b_____y damn dangerous, hard to kill unless you know what you're doing."
Their thoughts turned to the Maven. "She's... very nice, isn't she?" they said a little haltingly. "Dr. Rosewood, I mean."
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"Right. Small." Thursday grit their teeth. If a half-dozen cat sized spiders that liked to drop on their face in the dead of night counted as small-
"They WHAT?!"
-they'd hate to see what counted as 'big'.
"The bloody hell you mean the bastards merge?! Oh my gd and you fucking killed one?!' Their tone was a mix of horror and awe. Mostly horror though. "I need to get out of this fucking city," they mumbled.
"Oh, uhm, yea? She brings me scones. Don't know a whole lot bout her though. She's... nice? Feel like that's all I can say." It wasn't unusual for Thursday to not not much about people, besides whatever notes he has scrawled. Folks just came and went. The only people he had gotten close to... well.
"Do you know more than me? Should I have not invited her?"
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The Tailor opted for a smile, even if it was a little tight around the edges. "No, I agree, she's quite kind, and very helpful. Incredibly helpful."
Too goddamn helpful, they didn't say.
"The Maven's perfectly capable, even if her primary work is more of a caretaker role. She's a good person to the bone and marrow, I've found. Sometimes I just think she tries a little hard. But she's trustworthy enough, if that's any comfort." They rolled their eyes. "Although that b____y devil that's attached to her hip I could do a little less with. I think he thinks he's her attack dog. D'you know, I've never seen a devil so properly attached to someone?"
They were waving a hand in the air to gesture, somewhat more animated than they were when in a group setting. There was the urge to rant about the fellow, but they suppressed it for now. He was irritating, but he was avoiding them, as the Maven had likely instructed. They didn't need to speak so ill.
Even if he never seemed to take anything seriously and took everything as something to mock and deride. They shook their head, scratching a cheek. "M'sorry, you don't need to hear all my opinions on people. I'd likely just end up leaving you with the suspicion everyone has an agenda."
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It was funny seeing the Tailor so animated, so angry. Seems like someone wasn't so calm and collected all the time afterall.
"Don't uhm. Don't worry about it. Already feel like that anyways. " Under they're breath they added "Comes with the fucking job."
They stopped. Was it this intersection, or the next? If it was this one, the third story should have a bottle green window, smashed in a particular pattern. Thursday tilted their head up to check.
And the world began to swim violently, and they lost their footing, and began to fall.
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There was the skid of a foot slipping, but even as Thursday began to drop, there were firm hands on either of his shoulders and part of a shoulder pressed against their back to take their weight onto another body.
"Hey!" The outcry was belated on their part. Their instincts had acted first, like trying to catch another child before he would slip on the tiles of a roof and stumble over the edge. The grip on Thurday's broad shoulders were perhaps a touch too tight than was called for, trying for sturdy and bracing.
They were standing still, and the angle left Thursday's head somewhere in the space by the Tailor's cheek. It was a good angle to see the dark peligin eyes wide with a concern as they searched her face.
"Hey. Take a mo'. I've gotcha, right?"
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Interesting. Thursday had never seen the Tailor's eyes so well before. What she had assumed to simply a very dark brown was now and impossibly dark color.
A color that made her more zee-zick than before.
Their free hand came up, and they attempted to rub at their eyes. He fears she just ended up tapping the Tailor ineffectually on the face. That wasn't right. Hm. Hard to aim when the world spun like a whirlpool of malice.
"Uhm. Are tailors normally this..." Muscular? Buff? Sturdy? "Good at catching? Here, fuck, this angle sucks."
With great effort, Thursday moved to turn themself. They managed to flop face-first against the Tailor. There, their spine didn't hate this nearly as much. The position was rather like an embrace, especially one Thursday brought their hand up to cling to the Tailor's back when they began to sway again.
"Ohhhh I hate this."
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"I can't speak for all tailors," they said slowly, trying to distract, "but I know I'm a bit of an outlier in a lotta ways. Anyway," they added after a thought, "I used to carry some'a my...friends, I guess, on my back sometimes. Till they all outgrew me."
It would be stupid to ask if Thursday was alright, clearly they weren't, so instead the Tailor asked, "What can I do to assist?" He would know what was best for himself, they assumed. He'd know what he would need to handle a situation like this.