[continued from here]

"Eh," the Tailor starts with a noncommittal tone, taking the comment as approval for the choice, and edging forward to get the Frazzled Seller's attention, "No more nor less than the other drinks here, and business has been good. Did you know I've a shop behind the Glass Door now? Miss Ivy and I keep quite busy."

Not to mention, of course, the Bazaar's own wealth bolstering them, but then the Tailor doesn't particularly need the help, and never did.

"You uhm... you work in the Bazaar itself now? Wow, that's..." They paused, caught between words. Terrifying? Amazing? "Daunting! You've gotta have a lotta customers, huh? Wait, no, you just said that-"

She covers her face with her free hand.

Wait... "Miss Ivy?" Thursday didn't recall anyone by that name.

In the time it took the Tailor to fetch their drinks, Thursday found a small table not too far away. Probably for the best, snow and slippery ice are notoriously bad for wobbly beetles using canes. A cane which has been temporarily set aside.

She smiles brightly at the ridiculous amount of marshmallows, not even thinking to ask the Tailor if they're certain they don't want them. Soon enough, she's lowering her face into her cup, carefully sucking what-might-be-fresh marshmallows off the top. The scene is incredibly silly. Luckily, Thursday seems to be unaware of how she looks from the outside.

Nearly better than the sugar, the cup radiates a lovely heat, tempered by her patchy gloves. It soaks into her sore hands, easing the aches of cane use and near-frostbite.

And then she coughs, and looks up from her mug with an expression of what can only be described as utter horror. "Whuh?!" She leans in close to the tailor, whispering as loudly as she can. (At least she's not shouting it to the rooftops.) What do you- you don't- huh?!?!" Thursday can't put her cup down fast enough. With hands warmed by her drink, she grabs the Tailor's hand, and, staring into their eyes with burning intensity, whispers "It's both our birthday now then!!! You can't not have a birthday!"

Is that a hint of anger, under the confusion, that nobody dared give the Tailor a birthday? Well, she's decided to fix it regardless.

As before, Thursday's whirlwind of emotion threatens to throw the Tailor off their balance. "Wh-" His hands are warm from the cocoa but his eyes are practically alight with inner heat! They force them not to flush under the intensity of the gaze, head ducking a little.

"Yes!!!" She squeaks only a little, and squeezes their hand only a little more than that. Well. A lot more. "Happy birthday to us!"

For a moment, she's able to hold eye contact. The proximity allows a good look at the Tailor's eyes. Even this close, they're a deep black. Thursday feels themself spinning and swimming, but it doesn't bother her. Honestly, it doesn't even occur to her that the spinning might come from something other than their own wobbliness.

Even still, no moment last forever. Thursday drops her eyes, and sees the Tailor smiling. That is when she blushes and averts her gaze. A scarf would be remarkably helpful in hiding the dark flush across her cheeks and ears, but alas, she had no such thing.

Thursday surresptisiouly removes a hand to take a totally non-suspicious drink of her hot chocolate. Thankfully, the delay cooled it enough for safe drinking. Otherwise, she would have a burnt tongue right about now.

She thinks, then sets her drink back down. "Did ya hear about the picture stands? I haven't checked them out yet myself!"

Good good, a nice distracting answer to a question! A nice distracting hot cocoa mustache too.

Pleased, the Tailor drinks their own cocoa with a happy noise. They consider the suggestion around the edge of their mug, eyes closed in bliss.

"I think I caught a peek," they say finally, when the mug is lowered. "We can absolutely see what it's about!" The grin they offer is cheeky when they glance again at Thursday "Interested in a little treasonous fun? I think I saw one of the Empress."

The hand still over their friend's gives it another little squeeze. "Let's us also see about getting you something warm to settle into, keep the chill out if it insists on sticking round. I wanted to check at least one of them for myself. At your leisure, alright?" The contents of this mug are disappearing quickly- Tailor. Tailor are you- don't lick the rim of it to get the froth. Tailor you are in public. Does your sweet tooth know no bounds?!

The mention of the Empress catches Thursday off guard, sending them laughing into their own mug. "Anyone else but her please. No no no, wait," Thursday giggles, struggling to get her next sentence out. "Wait let's put a little red pin on her-" They dissolve into laughter.

Listen, listen- no there is no excuse. The Tailor loves cocoa. It's sweet and rich and warm. It's a delicacy they didn't grow up with! Now they can splurge. Which is why when the mug is offered to them, the cocoa fiend Tailor has at least the decency to blush a little before they do the only correct thing and finish the contents of that mug as well.

Thursday accepts the offered arm happily. Along the way to the stand Thursday does have to warn the tailor once or twice about a 'deadly' snowball, but luckily they both make it to the stands dry, even smiling.

When has Thursday ever felt so light-hearted? Even back on the Surface...

There's no time to think on it, she's here to celebrate her and the Tailor's birthday! Come on, Thursday, this is the Tailor's first one ever!

The portraits are even better than expected. Someone spent a lot of time on these, and they are incredible. "Woah! Look at these!" They walk forward to one in particular: a two-person stand of a cat and a snake. Oh, this would be so cute with them. Thursday is about to open their mouth to ask, when a little camera-weilding Urchin pops out from behind a stand.

"Hello, what can i- Ohhhhh" The Urchin's eyes go wide with reconition as they see the Tailor.

The Tailor, happy to be led where Thursday likes, is looking over the stand of the dueling panthera and Fingerking when their eyes meet the Urchin's and their opening mouth snaps shut with a click. It's rare but not unheard of for them to be clocked, but it's still- well. Kind of like poking a sore bruise, and risking everyone see you were injured at all.

Thursday looks to the Urchin.

The Urchin looks to Thursday.

This kid's photos are twenty no-kens for two people? Good grief, this is practically highway robbery! Even if the Tailor's come prepared, that's madness!

Thursday looks up at the Tailor, who does not let their smile sway.

"Sure, why the hell not."

As the taller of the two (however slightly), they take up their spot behind the Fingerking. "But you've got to give your fiercest expression for the shot, alright? Nice and proper terrifying!"

"Yes yea of c-course!" Oh yes, the Urchin knew it would work on the old king. They'll be rich enough to make it to the Spiral soon! They run over to stand on their apple crate, and ready the flash-contraption. "Pose!" they squeak.

Thursday grins, then contorts their face into a overly-dramatic snarl. It would be scarier if it wasn't clear the 'scary panther' was trying to hold back their laughter. The delight in their eyes betrays their snarl. They hiss and growl. Visible on to the Tailor, Thursday even lifts their hands in an imitation of the panther's claws.

They're so very adorable intimidating and fierce.

Click! Click!

The Tailor cannot help the genuine laugh at the sight while the gadget clicks, and as they pull their face away and pull out the No-kens to pay, they quietly decide it's worth it in the end.

"You'd set a marsh-wolf running," they tell Thursday, offering the picture to her for her approval. "Well done. Any others we should hit?" Their brows lift teasingly. "You sure you don't want to perhaps be a Master?" It's added with a chuckle- meant entirely in jest.

"Some of m'best work these ones! Tanks!" The Urchin runs off happily to their friends, leaving the two out of hearing range for a moment.

To Thursday, the photo is incredibly cute. It's one of the best birthday presents she's ever recieved. No, it is the best birthday present she's ever received. It's adorable, and it was worth it, and if Thursday's bad luck ever comes back, they'll always have this memory.

Th fact that the Tailor wants to be remembered with her in this moment. Thursday slips the photo inside her jacket, in much a similar place that they once slipped beloved beetle embroidery. Without saying anything, they practically crash into the Tailor, burying her face in their shoulder. They're absolutly not hiding tears, nor are they leeching warmth.

"Friends," is all they say, muffled by the Tailor's winter clothes.

Oh. Goodness.

He wishes he could explain. He wishes he could ask. He wishes he could communicate "I wanted to be friends but if i called you my friend it meant you would die and what if i was just some passing fancy and now there's proof but i don't know how to do any of this without hurting you or killing you because i'm probably super cursed" without making it sound like Thursday hated his Tailor. His friend.

So instead he says nothing, and simply shivers and cries for what must have been a Treachery of time that fit hours into minutes.

But then he leans back and dries his eyes, and everything is alright again. Maybe he didn't cry for as long as he would have last summer. Maybe he won't cry as much in the future either.

Right now though, he is positivly frigid.

"Y-yes p-p-please." Maybe it's Thursday's imagination, but the Tailor seems content to let him cling as much as he needs.

Thursday at least tries not to cling as hard when they make it to the stand.

A stand so horrendously expensive, Thursday balks at the price of even the cheapest of items.

"Damn. H-h-here?"

"It's alright," the Tailor says by way of explanation, "I know the proprietor." From the weak smile they offer, this appears to be some kind of a private joke.

The Portentous Pawn, of course, recognizes code when they see (or hear) it. As a matter of fact, don't they recognize that style of code?

Thursday side-eyes the Shifty Pawn, but ultimately, chill wins out.

Ah, right. Their birthday. Shared for the day. All the more reason to indulge.

[continued from here]

"Eh," the Tailor starts with a noncommittal tone, taking the comment as approval for the choice, and edging forward to get the Frazzled Seller's attention, "No more nor less than the other drinks here, and business has been good. Did you know I've a shop behind the Glass Door now? Miss Ivy and I keep quite busy."

Not to mention, of course, the Bazaar's own wealth bolstering them, but then the Tailor doesn't particularly need the help, and never did.

"You uhm... you work in the Bazaar itself now? Wow, that's..." They paused, caught between words. Terrifying? Amazing? "Daunting! You've gotta have a lotta customers, huh? Wait, no, you just said that-"

She covers her face with her free hand.

Wait... "Miss Ivy?" Thursday didn't recall anyone by that name.

In the time it took the Tailor to fetch their drinks, Thursday found a small table not too far away. Probably for the best, snow and slippery ice are notoriously bad for wobbly beetles using canes. A cane which has been temporarily set aside.

She smiles brightly at the ridiculous amount of marshmallows, not even thinking to ask the Tailor if they're certain they don't want them. Soon enough, she's lowering her face into her cup, carefully sucking what-might-be-fresh marshmallows off the top. The scene is incredibly silly. Luckily, Thursday seems to be unaware of how she looks from the outside.

Nearly better than the sugar, the cup radiates a lovely heat, tempered by her patchy gloves. It soaks into her sore hands, easing the aches of cane use and near-frostbite.

And then she coughs, and looks up from her mug with an expression of what can only be described as utter horror. "Whuh?!" She leans in close to the tailor, whispering as loudly as she can. (At least she's not shouting it to the rooftops.) What do you- you don't- huh?!?!" Thursday can't put her cup down fast enough. With hands warmed by her drink, she grabs the Tailor's hand, and, staring into their eyes with burning intensity, whispers "It's both our birthday now then!!! You can't not have a birthday!"

Is that a hint of anger, under the confusion, that nobody dared give the Tailor a birthday? Well, she's decided to fix it regardless.

As before, Thursday's whirlwind of emotion threatens to throw the Tailor off their balance. "Wh-" His hands are warm from the cocoa but his eyes are practically alight with inner heat! They force them not to flush under the intensity of the gaze, head ducking a little.

"Yes!!!" She squeaks only a little, and squeezes their hand only a little more than that. Well. A lot more. "Happy birthday to us!"

For a moment, she's able to hold eye contact. The proximity allows a good look at the Tailor's eyes. Even this close, they're a deep black. Thursday feels themself spinning and swimming, but it doesn't bother her. Honestly, it doesn't even occur to her that the spinning might come from something other than their own wobbliness.

Even still, no moment last forever. Thursday drops her eyes, and sees the Tailor smiling. That is when she blushes and averts her gaze. A scarf would be remarkably helpful in hiding the dark flush across her cheeks and ears, but alas, she had no such thing.

Thursday surresptisiouly removes a hand to take a totally non-suspicious drink of her hot chocolate. Thankfully, the delay cooled it enough for safe drinking. Otherwise, she would have a burnt tongue right about now.

She thinks, then sets her drink back down. "Did ya hear about the picture stands? I haven't checked them out yet myself!"

Good good, a nice distracting answer to a question! A nice distracting hot cocoa mustache too.

Pleased, the Tailor drinks their own cocoa with a happy noise. They consider the suggestion around the edge of their mug, eyes closed in bliss.

"I think I caught a peek," they say finally, when the mug is lowered. "We can absolutely see what it's about!" The grin they offer is cheeky when they glance again at Thursday "Interested in a little treasonous fun? I think I saw one of the Empress."

The hand still over their friend's gives it another little squeeze. "Let's us also see about getting you something warm to settle into, keep the chill out if it insists on sticking round. I wanted to check at least one of them for myself. At your leisure, alright?" The contents of this mug are disappearing quickly- Tailor. Tailor are you- don't lick the rim of it to get the froth. Tailor you are in public. Does your sweet tooth know no bounds?!

The mention of the Empress catches Thursday off guard, sending them laughing into their own mug. "Anyone else but her please. No no no, wait," Thursday giggles, struggling to get her next sentence out. "Wait let's put a little red pin on her-" They dissolve into laughter.

Listen, listen- no there is no excuse. The Tailor loves cocoa. It's sweet and rich and warm. It's a delicacy they didn't grow up with! Now they can splurge. Which is why when the mug is offered to them, the cocoa fiend Tailor has at least the decency to blush a little before they do the only correct thing and finish the contents of that mug as well.

Thursday accepts the offered arm happily. Along the way to the stand Thursday does have to warn the tailor once or twice about a 'deadly' snowball, but luckily they both make it to the stands dry, even smiling.

When has Thursday ever felt so light-hearted? Even back on the Surface...

There's no time to think on it, she's here to celebrate her and the Tailor's birthday! Come on, Thursday, this is the Tailor's first one ever!

The portraits are even better than expected. Someone spent a lot of time on these, and they are incredible. "Woah! Look at these!" They walk forward to one in particular: a two-person stand of a cat and a snake. Oh, this would be so cute with them. Thursday is about to open their mouth to ask, when a little camera-weilding Urchin pops out from behind a stand.

"Hello, what can i- Ohhhhh" The Urchin's eyes go wide with reconition as they see the Tailor.

The Tailor, happy to be led where Thursday likes, is looking over the stand of the dueling panthera and Fingerking when their eyes meet the Urchin's and their opening mouth snaps shut with a click. It's rare but not unheard of for them to be clocked, but it's still- well. Kind of like poking a sore bruise, and risking everyone see you were injured at all.

Thursday looks to the Urchin.

The Urchin looks to Thursday.

This kid's photos are twenty no-kens for two people? Good grief, this is practically highway robbery! Even if the Tailor's come prepared, that's madness!

Thursday looks up at the Tailor, who does not let their smile sway.

"Sure, why the hell not."

As the taller of the two (however slightly), they take up their spot behind the Fingerking. "But you've got to give your fiercest expression for the shot, alright? Nice and proper terrifying!"

"Yes yea of c-course!" Oh yes, the Urchin knew it would work on the old king. They'll be rich enough to make it to the Spiral soon! They run over to stand on their apple crate, and ready the flash-contraption. "Pose!" they squeak.

Thursday grins, then contorts their face into a overly-dramatic snarl. It would be scarier if it wasn't clear the 'scary panther' was trying to hold back their laughter. The delight in their eyes betrays their snarl. They hiss and growl. Visible on to the Tailor, Thursday even lifts their hands in an imitation of the panther's claws.

They're so very adorable intimidating and fierce.

Click! Click!

The Tailor cannot help the genuine laugh at the sight while the gadget clicks, and as they pull their face away and pull out the No-kens to pay, they quietly decide it's worth it in the end.

"You'd set a marsh-wolf running," they tell Thursday, offering the picture to her for her approval. "Well done. Any others we should hit?" Their brows lift teasingly. "You sure you don't want to perhaps be a Master?" It's added with a chuckle- meant entirely in jest.

"Some of m'best work these ones! Tanks!" The Urchin runs off happily to their friends, leaving the two out of hearing range for a moment.

To Thursday, the photo is incredibly cute. It's one of the best birthday presents she's ever recieved. No, it is the best birthday present she's ever received. It's adorable, and it was worth it, and if Thursday's bad luck ever comes back, they'll always have this memory.

Th fact that the Tailor wants to be remembered with her in this moment. Thursday slips the photo inside her jacket, in much a similar place that they once slipped beloved beetle embroidery. Without saying anything, they practically crash into the Tailor, burying her face in their shoulder. They're absolutly not hiding tears, nor are they leeching warmth.

"Friends," is all they say, muffled by the Tailor's winter clothes.

Oh. Goodness.

He wishes he could explain. He wishes he could ask. He wishes he could communicate "I wanted to be friends but if i called you my friend it meant you would die and what if i was just some passing fancy and now there's proof but i don't know how to do any of this without hurting you or killing you because i'm probably super cursed" without making it sound like Thursday hated his Tailor. His friend.

So instead he says nothing, and simply shivers and cries for what must have been a Treachery of time that fit hours into minutes.

But then he leans back and dries his eyes, and everything is alright again. Maybe he didn't cry for as long as he would have last summer. Maybe he won't cry as much in the future either.

Right now though, he is positivly frigid.

"Y-yes p-p-please." Maybe it's Thursday's imagination, but the Tailor seems content to let him cling as much as he needs.

Thursday at least tries not to cling as hard when they make it to the stand.

A stand so horrendously expensive, Thursday balks at the price of even the cheapest of items.

"Damn. H-h-here?"

"It's alright," the Tailor says by way of explanation, "I know the proprietor." From the weak smile they offer, this appears to be some kind of a private joke.

[continued from here]

"Eh," the Tailor starts with a noncommittal tone, taking the comment as approval for the choice, and edging forward to get the Frazzled Seller's attention, "No more nor less than the other drinks here, and business has been good. Did you know I've a shop behind the Glass Door now? Miss Ivy and I keep quite busy."

Not to mention, of course, the Bazaar's own wealth bolstering them, but then the Tailor doesn't particularly need the help, and never did.

"You uhm... you work in the Bazaar itself now? Wow, that's..." They paused, caught between words. Terrifying? Amazing? "Daunting! You've gotta have a lotta customers, huh? Wait, no, you just said that-"

She covers her face with her free hand.

Wait... "Miss Ivy?" Thursday didn't recall anyone by that name.

In the time it took the Tailor to fetch their drinks, Thursday found a small table not too far away. Probably for the best, snow and slippery ice are notoriously bad for wobbly beetles using canes. A cane which has been temporarily set aside.

She smiles brightly at the ridiculous amount of marshmallows, not even thinking to ask the Tailor if they're certain they don't want them. Soon enough, she's lowering her face into her cup, carefully sucking what-might-be-fresh marshmallows off the top. The scene is incredibly silly. Luckily, Thursday seems to be unaware of how she looks from the outside.

Nearly better than the sugar, the cup radiates a lovely heat, tempered by her patchy gloves. It soaks into her sore hands, easing the aches of cane use and near-frostbite.

And then she coughs, and looks up from her mug with an expression of what can only be described as utter horror. "Whuh?!" She leans in close to the tailor, whispering as loudly as she can. (At least she's not shouting it to the rooftops.) What do you- you don't- huh?!?!" Thursday can't put her cup down fast enough. With hands warmed by her drink, she grabs the Tailor's hand, and, staring into their eyes with burning intensity, whispers "It's both our birthday now then!!! You can't not have a birthday!"

Is that a hint of anger, under the confusion, that nobody dared give the Tailor a birthday? Well, she's decided to fix it regardless.

As before, Thursday's whirlwind of emotion threatens to throw the Tailor off their balance. "Wh-" His hands are warm from the cocoa but his eyes are practically alight with inner heat! They force them not to flush under the intensity of the gaze, head ducking a little.

"Yes!!!" She squeaks only a little, and squeezes their hand only a little more than that. Well. A lot more. "Happy birthday to us!"

For a moment, she's able to hold eye contact. The proximity allows a good look at the Tailor's eyes. Even this close, they're a deep black. Thursday feels themself spinning and swimming, but it doesn't bother her. Honestly, it doesn't even occur to her that the spinning might come from something other than their own wobbliness.

Even still, no moment last forever. Thursday drops her eyes, and sees the Tailor smiling. That is when she blushes and averts her gaze. A scarf would be remarkably helpful in hiding the dark flush across her cheeks and ears, but alas, she had no such thing.

Thursday surresptisiouly removes a hand to take a totally non-suspicious drink of her hot chocolate. Thankfully, the delay cooled it enough for safe drinking. Otherwise, she would have a burnt tongue right about now.

She thinks, then sets her drink back down. "Did ya hear about the picture stands? I haven't checked them out yet myself!"

Good good, a nice distracting answer to a question! A nice distracting hot cocoa mustache too.

Pleased, the Tailor drinks their own cocoa with a happy noise. They consider the suggestion around the edge of their mug, eyes closed in bliss.

"I think I caught a peek," they say finally, when the mug is lowered. "We can absolutely see what it's about!" The grin they offer is cheeky when they glance again at Thursday "Interested in a little treasonous fun? I think I saw one of the Empress."

The hand still over their friend's gives it another little squeeze. "Let's us also see about getting you something warm to settle into, keep the chill out if it insists on sticking round. I wanted to check at least one of them for myself. At your leisure, alright?" The contents of this mug are disappearing quickly- Tailor. Tailor are you- don't lick the rim of it to get the froth. Tailor you are in public. Does your sweet tooth know no bounds?!

The mention of the Empress catches Thursday off guard, sending them laughing into their own mug. "Anyone else but her please. No no no, wait," Thursday giggles, struggling to get her next sentence out. "Wait let's put a little red pin on her-" They dissolve into laughter.

Listen, listen- no there is no excuse. The Tailor loves cocoa. It's sweet and rich and warm. It's a delicacy they didn't grow up with! Now they can splurge. Which is why when the mug is offered to them, the cocoa fiend Tailor has at least the decency to blush a little before they do the only correct thing and finish the contents of that mug as well.

Thursday accepts the offered arm happily. Along the way to the stand Thursday does have to warn the tailor once or twice about a 'deadly' snowball, but luckily they both make it to the stands dry, even smiling.

When has Thursday ever felt so light-hearted? Even back on the Surface...

There's no time to think on it, she's here to celebrate her and the Tailor's birthday! Come on, Thursday, this is the Tailor's first one ever!

The portraits are even better than expected. Someone spent a lot of time on these, and they are incredible. "Woah! Look at these!" They walk forward to one in particular: a two-person stand of a cat and a snake. Oh, this would be so cute with them. Thursday is about to open their mouth to ask, when a little camera-weilding Urchin pops out from behind a stand.

"Hello, what can i- Ohhhhh" The Urchin's eyes go wide with reconition as they see the Tailor.

The Tailor, happy to be led where Thursday likes, is looking over the stand of the dueling panthera and Fingerking when their eyes meet the Urchin's and their opening mouth snaps shut with a click. It's rare but not unheard of for them to be clocked, but it's still- well. Kind of like poking a sore bruise, and risking everyone see you were injured at all.

Thursday looks to the Urchin.

The Urchin looks to Thursday.

This kid's photos are twenty no-kens for two people? Good grief, this is practically highway robbery! Even if the Tailor's come prepared, that's madness!

Thursday looks up at the Tailor, who does not let their smile sway.

"Sure, why the hell not."

As the taller of the two (however slightly), they take up their spot behind the Fingerking. "But you've got to give your fiercest expression for the shot, alright? Nice and proper terrifying!"

"Yes yea of c-course!" Oh yes, the Urchin knew it would work on the old king. They'll be rich enough to make it to the Spiral soon! They run over to stand on their apple crate, and ready the flash-contraption. "Pose!" they squeak.

Thursday grins, then contorts their face into a overly-dramatic snarl. It would be scarier if it wasn't clear the 'scary panther' was trying to hold back their laughter. The delight in their eyes betrays their snarl. They hiss and growl. Visible on to the Tailor, Thursday even lifts their hands in an imitation of the panther's claws.

They're so very adorable intimidating and fierce.

Click! Click!

The Tailor cannot help the genuine laugh at the sight while the gadget clicks, and as they pull their face away and pull out the No-kens to pay, they quietly decide it's worth it in the end.

"You'd set a marsh-wolf running," they tell Thursday, offering the picture to her for her approval. "Well done. Any others we should hit?" Their brows lift teasingly. "You sure you don't want to perhaps be a Master?" It's added with a chuckle- meant entirely in jest.

"Some of m'best work these ones! Tanks!" The Urchin runs off happily to their friends, leaving the two out of hearing range for a moment.

To Thursday, the photo is incredibly cute. It's one of the best birthday presents she's ever recieved. No, it is the best birthday present she's ever received. It's adorable, and it was worth it, and if Thursday's bad luck ever comes back, they'll always have this memory.

Th fact that the Tailor wants to be remembered with her in this moment. Thursday slips the photo inside her jacket, in much a similar place that they once slipped beloved beetle embroidery. Without saying anything, they practically crash into the Tailor, burying her face in their shoulder. They're absolutly not hiding tears, nor are they leeching warmth.

"Friends," is all they say, muffled by the Tailor's winter clothes.

Oh. Goodness.

[continued from here]

"Eh," the Tailor starts with a noncommittal tone, taking the comment as approval for the choice, and edging forward to get the Frazzled Seller's attention, "No more nor less than the other drinks here, and business has been good. Did you know I've a shop behind the Glass Door now? Miss Ivy and I keep quite busy."

Not to mention, of course, the Bazaar's own wealth bolstering them, but then the Tailor doesn't particularly need the help, and never did.

"You uhm... you work in the Bazaar itself now? Wow, that's..." They paused, caught between words. Terrifying? Amazing? "Daunting! You've gotta have a lotta customers, huh? Wait, no, you just said that-"

She covers her face with her free hand.

Wait... "Miss Ivy?" Thursday didn't recall anyone by that name.

In the time it took the Tailor to fetch their drinks, Thursday found a small table not too far away. Probably for the best, snow and slippery ice are notoriously bad for wobbly beetles using canes. A cane which has been temporarily set aside.

She smiles brightly at the ridiculous amount of marshmallows, not even thinking to ask the Tailor if they're certain they don't want them. Soon enough, she's lowering her face into her cup, carefully sucking what-might-be-fresh marshmallows off the top. The scene is incredibly silly. Luckily, Thursday seems to be unaware of how she looks from the outside.

Nearly better than the sugar, the cup radiates a lovely heat, tempered by her patchy gloves. It soaks into her sore hands, easing the aches of cane use and near-frostbite.

And then she coughs, and looks up from her mug with an expression of what can only be described as utter horror. "Whuh?!" She leans in close to the tailor, whispering as loudly as she can. (At least she's not shouting it to the rooftops.) What do you- you don't- huh?!?!" Thursday can't put her cup down fast enough. With hands warmed by her drink, she grabs the Tailor's hand, and, staring into their eyes with burning intensity, whispers "It's both our birthday now then!!! You can't not have a birthday!"

Is that a hint of anger, under the confusion, that nobody dared give the Tailor a birthday? Well, she's decided to fix it regardless.

As before, Thursday's whirlwind of emotion threatens to throw the Tailor off their balance. "Wh-" His hands are warm from the cocoa but his eyes are practically alight with inner heat! They force them not to flush under the intensity of the gaze, head ducking a little.

"Yes!!!" She squeaks only a little, and squeezes their hand only a little more than that. Well. A lot more. "Happy birthday to us!"

For a moment, she's able to hold eye contact. The proximity allows a good look at the Tailor's eyes. Even this close, they're a deep black. Thursday feels themself spinning and swimming, but it doesn't bother her. Honestly, it doesn't even occur to her that the spinning might come from something other than their own wobbliness.

Even still, no moment last forever. Thursday drops her eyes, and sees the Tailor smiling. That is when she blushes and averts her gaze. A scarf would be remarkably helpful in hiding the dark flush across her cheeks and ears, but alas, she had no such thing.

Thursday surresptisiouly removes a hand to take a totally non-suspicious drink of her hot chocolate. Thankfully, the delay cooled it enough for safe drinking. Otherwise, she would have a burnt tongue right about now.

She thinks, then sets her drink back down. "Did ya hear about the picture stands? I haven't checked them out yet myself!"

Good good, a nice distracting answer to a question! A nice distracting hot cocoa mustache too.

Pleased, the Tailor drinks their own cocoa with a happy noise. They consider the suggestion around the edge of their mug, eyes closed in bliss.

"I think I caught a peek," they say finally, when the mug is lowered. "We can absolutely see what it's about!" The grin they offer is cheeky when they glance again at Thursday "Interested in a little treasonous fun? I think I saw one of the Empress."

The hand still over their friend's gives it another little squeeze. "Let's us also see about getting you something warm to settle into, keep the chill out if it insists on sticking round. I wanted to check at least one of them for myself. At your leisure, alright?" The contents of this mug are disappearing quickly- Tailor. Tailor are you- don't lick the rim of it to get the froth. Tailor you are in public. Does your sweet tooth know no bounds?!

The mention of the Empress catches Thursday off guard, sending them laughing into their own mug. "Anyone else but her please. No no no, wait," Thursday giggles, struggling to get her next sentence out. "Wait let's put a little red pin on her-" They dissolve into laughter.

Listen, listen- no there is no excuse. The Tailor loves cocoa. It's sweet and rich and warm. It's a delicacy they didn't grow up with! Now they can splurge. Which is why when the mug is offered to them, the cocoa fiend Tailor has at least the decency to blush a little before they do the only correct thing and finish the contents of that mug as well.

Thursday accepts the offered arm happily. Along the way to the stand Thursday does have to warn the tailor once or twice about a 'deadly' snowball, but luckily they both make it to the stands dry, even smiling.

When has Thursday ever felt so light-hearted? Even back on the Surface...

There's no time to think on it, she's here to celebrate her and the Tailor's birthday! Come on, Thursday, this is the Tailor's first one ever!

The portraits are even better than expected. Someone spent a lot of time on these, and they are incredible. "Woah! Look at these!" They walk forward to one in particular: a two-person stand of a cat and a snake. Oh, this would be so cute with them. Thursday is about to open their mouth to ask, when a little camera-weilding Urchin pops out from behind a stand.

"Hello, what can i- Ohhhhh" The Urchin's eyes go wide with reconition as they see the Tailor.

The Tailor, happy to be led where Thursday likes, is looking over the stand of the dueling panthera and Fingerking when their eyes meet the Urchin's and their opening mouth snaps shut with a click. It's rare but not unheard of for them to be clocked, but it's still- well. Kind of like poking a sore bruise, and risking everyone see you were injured at all.

Thursday looks to the Urchin.

The Urchin looks to Thursday.

This kid's photos are twenty no-kens for two people? Good grief, this is practically highway robbery! Even if the Tailor's come prepared, that's madness!

Thursday looks up at the Tailor, who does not let their smile sway.

"Sure, why the hell not."

As the taller of the two (however slightly), they take up their spot behind the Fingerking. "But you've got to give your fiercest expression for the shot, alright? Nice and proper terrifying!"

"Yes yea of c-course!" Oh yes, the Urchin knew it would work on the old king. They'll be rich enough to make it to the Spiral soon! They run over to stand on their apple crate, and ready the flash-contraption. "Pose!" they squeak.

Thursday grins, then contorts their face into a overly-dramatic snarl. It would be scarier if it wasn't clear the 'scary panther' was trying to hold back their laughter. The delight in their eyes betrays their snarl. They hiss and growl. Visible on to the Tailor, Thursday even lifts their hands in an imitation of the panther's claws.

They're so very adorable intimidating and fierce.

Click! Click!

The Tailor cannot help the genuine laugh at the sight while the gadget clicks, and as they pull their face away and pull out the No-kens to pay, they quietly decide it's worth it in the end.

"You'd set a marsh-wolf running," they tell Thursday, offering the picture to her for her approval. "Well done. Any others we should hit?" Their brows lift teasingly. "You sure you don't want to perhaps be a Master?" It's added with a chuckle- meant entirely in jest.

[continued from here]

"Eh," the Tailor starts with a noncommittal tone, taking the comment as approval for the choice, and edging forward to get the Frazzled Seller's attention, "No more nor less than the other drinks here, and business has been good. Did you know I've a shop behind the Glass Door now? Miss Ivy and I keep quite busy."

Not to mention, of course, the Bazaar's own wealth bolstering them, but then the Tailor doesn't particularly need the help, and never did.

"You uhm... you work in the Bazaar itself now? Wow, that's..." They paused, caught between words. Terrifying? Amazing? "Daunting! You've gotta have a lotta customers, huh? Wait, no, you just said that-"

She covers her face with her free hand.

Wait... "Miss Ivy?" Thursday didn't recall anyone by that name.

In the time it took the Tailor to fetch their drinks, Thursday found a small table not too far away. Probably for the best, snow and slippery ice are notoriously bad for wobbly beetles using canes. A cane which has been temporarily set aside.

She smiles brightly at the ridiculous amount of marshmallows, not even thinking to ask the Tailor if they're certain they don't want them. Soon enough, she's lowering her face into her cup, carefully sucking what-might-be-fresh marshmallows off the top. The scene is incredibly silly. Luckily, Thursday seems to be unaware of how she looks from the outside.

Nearly better than the sugar, the cup radiates a lovely heat, tempered by her patchy gloves. It soaks into her sore hands, easing the aches of cane use and near-frostbite.

And then she coughs, and looks up from her mug with an expression of what can only be described as utter horror. "Whuh?!" She leans in close to the tailor, whispering as loudly as she can. (At least she's not shouting it to the rooftops.) What do you- you don't- huh?!?!" Thursday can't put her cup down fast enough. With hands warmed by her drink, she grabs the Tailor's hand, and, staring into their eyes with burning intensity, whispers "It's both our birthday now then!!! You can't not have a birthday!"

Is that a hint of anger, under the confusion, that nobody dared give the Tailor a birthday? Well, she's decided to fix it regardless.

As before, Thursday's whirlwind of emotion threatens to throw the Tailor off their balance. "Wh-" His hands are warm from the cocoa but his eyes are practically alight with inner heat! They force them not to flush under the intensity of the gaze, head ducking a little.

"Yes!!!" She squeaks only a little, and squeezes their hand only a little more than that. Well. A lot more. "Happy birthday to us!"

For a moment, she's able to hold eye contact. The proximity allows a good look at the Tailor's eyes. Even this close, they're a deep black. Thursday feels themself spinning and swimming, but it doesn't bother her. Honestly, it doesn't even occur to her that the spinning might come from something other than their own wobbliness.

Even still, no moment last forever. Thursday drops her eyes, and sees the Tailor smiling. That is when she blushes and averts her gaze. A scarf would be remarkably helpful in hiding the dark flush across her cheeks and ears, but alas, she had no such thing.

Thursday surresptisiouly removes a hand to take a totally non-suspicious drink of her hot chocolate. Thankfully, the delay cooled it enough for safe drinking. Otherwise, she would have a burnt tongue right about now.

She thinks, then sets her drink back down. "Did ya hear about the picture stands? I haven't checked them out yet myself!"

Good good, a nice distracting answer to a question! A nice distracting hot cocoa mustache too.

Pleased, the Tailor drinks their own cocoa with a happy noise. They consider the suggestion around the edge of their mug, eyes closed in bliss.

"I think I caught a peek," they say finally, when the mug is lowered. "We can absolutely see what it's about!" The grin they offer is cheeky when they glance again at Thursday "Interested in a little treasonous fun? I think I saw one of the Empress."

The hand still over their friend's gives it another little squeeze. "Let's us also see about getting you something warm to settle into, keep the chill out if it insists on sticking round. I wanted to check at least one of them for myself. At your leisure, alright?" The contents of this mug are disappearing quickly- Tailor. Tailor are you- don't lick the rim of it to get the froth. Tailor you are in public. Does your sweet tooth know no bounds?!

The mention of the Empress catches Thursday off guard, sending them laughing into their own mug. "Anyone else but her please. No no no, wait," Thursday giggles, struggling to get her next sentence out. "Wait let's put a little red pin on her-" They dissolve into laughter.

Listen, listen- no there is no excuse. The Tailor loves cocoa. It's sweet and rich and warm. It's a delicacy they didn't grow up with! Now they can splurge. Which is why when the mug is offered to them, the cocoa fiend Tailor has at least the decency to blush a little before they do the only correct thing and finish the contents of that mug as well.

Thursday accepts the offered arm happily. Along the way to the stand Thursday does have to warn the tailor once or twice about a 'deadly' snowball, but luckily they both make it to the stands dry, even smiling.

When has Thursday ever felt so light-hearted? Even back on the Surface...

There's no time to think on it, she's here to celebrate her and the Tailor's birthday! Come on, Thursday, this is the Tailor's first one ever!

The portraits are even better than expected. Someone spent a lot of time on these, and they are incredible. "Woah! Look at these!" They walk forward to one in particular: a two-person stand of a cat and a snake. Oh, this would be so cute with them. Thursday is about to open their mouth to ask, when a little camera-weilding Urchin pops out from behind a stand.

"Hello, what can i- Ohhhhh" The Urchin's eyes go wide with reconition as they see the Tailor.

The Tailor, happy to be led where Thursday likes, is looking over the stand of the dueling panthera and Fingerking when their eyes meet the Urchin's and their opening mouth snaps shut with a click. It's rare but not unheard of for them to be clocked, but it's still- well. Kind of like poking a sore bruise, and risking everyone see you were injured at all.

Thursday looks to the Urchin.

The Urchin looks to Thursday.

This kid's photos are twenty no-kens for two people? Good grief, this is practically highway robbery! Even if the Tailor's come prepared, that's madness!

Thursday looks up at the Tailor, who does not let their smile sway.

"Sure, why the hell not."

As the taller of the two (however slightly), they take up their spot behind the Fingerking. "But you've got to give your fiercest expression for the shot, alright? Nice and proper terrifying!"

(> Put your face in the Portrait of the Snow Traitor Empress): This feels like treason.

You barely last until the camera click.

Once you have taken your position, the Enterprising Urchin rushes to their apple crate. Beside them they have a rudimentary trigger flash precariously rigged.

They pull up their little Kodak Brownie. "Smile!"

(> Click!):

What's this? It appears someone has defaced this portrait of our beloved Traitor Empress! The outrage! The absolute depravity! Why, they've stuck a revolutionary flag to the wood where her lapel is painted! Who would do such a thing?!

....So, uh-

Is anyone gonna take that thing down any time soon?

No?

Hm. Well. Alright. Guess she has a new accessory proclaiming her new allegiances, now...?

[continued from here]

"Eh," the Tailor starts with a noncommittal tone, taking the comment as approval for the choice, and edging forward to get the Frazzled Seller's attention, "No more nor less than the other drinks here, and business has been good. Did you know I've a shop behind the Glass Door now? Miss Ivy and I keep quite busy."

Not to mention, of course, the Bazaar's own wealth bolstering them, but then the Tailor doesn't particularly need the help, and never did.

"You uhm... you work in the Bazaar itself now? Wow, that's..." They paused, caught between words. Terrifying? Amazing? "Daunting! You've gotta have a lotta customers, huh? Wait, no, you just said that-"

She covers her face with her free hand.

Wait... "Miss Ivy?" Thursday didn't recall anyone by that name.

In the time it took the Tailor to fetch their drinks, Thursday found a small table not too far away. Probably for the best, snow and slippery ice are notoriously bad for wobbly beetles using canes. A cane which has been temporarily set aside.

She smiles brightly at the ridiculous amount of marshmallows, not even thinking to ask the Tailor if they're certain they don't want them. Soon enough, she's lowering her face into her cup, carefully sucking what-might-be-fresh marshmallows off the top. The scene is incredibly silly. Luckily, Thursday seems to be unaware of how she looks from the outside.

Nearly better than the sugar, the cup radiates a lovely heat, tempered by her patchy gloves. It soaks into her sore hands, easing the aches of cane use and near-frostbite.

And then she coughs, and looks up from her mug with an expression of what can only be described as utter horror. "Whuh?!" She leans in close to the tailor, whispering as loudly as she can. (At least she's not shouting it to the rooftops.) What do you- you don't- huh?!?!" Thursday can't put her cup down fast enough. With hands warmed by her drink, she grabs the Tailor's hand, and, staring into their eyes with burning intensity, whispers "It's both our birthday now then!!! You can't not have a birthday!"

Is that a hint of anger, under the confusion, that nobody dared give the Tailor a birthday? Well, she's decided to fix it regardless.

As before, Thursday's whirlwind of emotion threatens to throw the Tailor off their balance. "Wh-" His hands are warm from the cocoa but his eyes are practically alight with inner heat! They force them not to flush under the intensity of the gaze, head ducking a little.

"Yes!!!" She squeaks only a little, and squeezes their hand only a little more than that. Well. A lot more. "Happy birthday to us!"

For a moment, she's able to hold eye contact. The proximity allows a good look at the Tailor's eyes. Even this close, they're a deep black. Thursday feels themself spinning and swimming, but it doesn't bother her. Honestly, it doesn't even occur to her that the spinning might come from something other than their own wobbliness.

Even still, no moment last forever. Thursday drops her eyes, and sees the Tailor smiling. That is when she blushes and averts her gaze. A scarf would be remarkably helpful in hiding the dark flush across her cheeks and ears, but alas, she had no such thing.

Thursday surresptisiouly removes a hand to take a totally non-suspicious drink of her hot chocolate. Thankfully, the delay cooled it enough for safe drinking. Otherwise, she would have a burnt tongue right about now.

She thinks, then sets her drink back down. "Did ya hear about the picture stands? I haven't checked them out yet myself!"

Good good, a nice distracting answer to a question! A nice distracting hot cocoa mustache too.

Pleased, the Tailor drinks their own cocoa with a happy noise. They consider the suggestion around the edge of their mug, eyes closed in bliss.

"I think I caught a peek," they say finally, when the mug is lowered. "We can absolutely see what it's about!" The grin they offer is cheeky when they glance again at Thursday "Interested in a little treasonous fun? I think I saw one of the Empress."

The hand still over their friend's gives it another little squeeze. "Let's us also see about getting you something warm to settle into, keep the chill out if it insists on sticking round. I wanted to check at least one of them for myself. At your leisure, alright?" The contents of this mug are disappearing quickly- Tailor. Tailor are you- don't lick the rim of it to get the froth. Tailor you are in public. Does your sweet tooth know no bounds?!

The mention of the Empress catches Thursday off guard, sending them laughing into their own mug. "Anyone else but her please. No no no, wait," Thursday giggles, struggling to get her next sentence out. "Wait let's put a little red pin on her-" They dissolve into laughter.

Listen, listen- no there is no excuse. The Tailor loves cocoa. It's sweet and rich and warm. It's a delicacy they didn't grow up with! Now they can splurge. Which is why when the mug is offered to them, the cocoa fiend Tailor has at least the decency to blush a little before they do the only correct thing and finish the contents of that mug as well.

Thursday accepts the offered arm happily. Along the way to the stand Thursday does have to warn the tailor once or twice about a 'deadly' snowball, but luckily they both make it to the stands dry, even smiling.

When has Thursday ever felt so light-hearted? Even back on the Surface...

There's no time to think on it, she's here to celebrate her and the Tailor's birthday! Come on, Thursday, this is the Tailor's first one ever!

The portraits are even better than expected. Someone spent a lot of time on these, and they are incredible. "Woah! Look at these!" They walk forward to one in particular: a two-person stand of a cat and a snake. Oh, this would be so cute with them. Thursday is about to open their mouth to ask, when a little camera-weilding Urchin pops out from behind a stand.

"Hello, what can i- Ohhhhh" The Urchin's eyes go wide with reconition as they see the Tailor.

The Tailor, happy to be led where Thursday likes, is looking over the stand of the dueling panthera and Fingerking when their eyes meet the Urchin's and their opening mouth snaps shut with a click. It's rare but not unheard of for them to be clocked, but it's still- well. Kind of like poking a sore bruise, and risking everyone see you were injured at all.

(> Investigate the Market): What will you buy?

Today stalls criss-cross the frozen River. Shops of all shapes and sizes adorn the ice; Rats in their miniature stalls, somehow out-busking the human costermongers beside them, Urchins, who have taken to setting up their stalls quite literally atop the others, and, most intriguingly, the occasional stall of a Master of the Bazaar, distinguishable by their sheer sprawling size, and the flock of Neddies.

Which stall will you visit?

(> The Rats): They seem to be exchanging currency.

(> An Ice Stand?):

(> Apples' Saccharian Stand):

(> Hearts' Bl--dy Butchery!):

(> Veils' Lucullian Stand):

(> Mr. Wines' Wet Bar):

(> Cup's Commemorative Cups):

(> Mr Fires' Combustible Comforts):

All stalls are now open.

[continued from here]

"Eh," the Tailor starts with a noncommittal tone, taking the comment as approval for the choice, and edging forward to get the Frazzled Seller's attention, "No more nor less than the other drinks here, and business has been good. Did you know I've a shop behind the Glass Door now? Miss Ivy and I keep quite busy."

Not to mention, of course, the Bazaar's own wealth bolstering them, but then the Tailor doesn't particularly need the help, and never did.

"You uhm... you work in the Bazaar itself now? Wow, that's..." They paused, caught between words. Terrifying? Amazing? "Daunting! You've gotta have a lotta customers, huh? Wait, no, you just said that-"

She covers her face with her free hand.

Wait... "Miss Ivy?" Thursday didn't recall anyone by that name.

In the time it took the Tailor to fetch their drinks, Thursday found a small table not too far away. Probably for the best, snow and slippery ice are notoriously bad for wobbly beetles using canes. A cane which has been temporarily set aside.

She smiles brightly at the ridiculous amount of marshmallows, not even thinking to ask the Tailor if they're certain they don't want them. Soon enough, she's lowering her face into her cup, carefully sucking what-might-be-fresh marshmallows off the top. The scene is incredibly silly. Luckily, Thursday seems to be unaware of how she looks from the outside.

Nearly better than the sugar, the cup radiates a lovely heat, tempered by her patchy gloves. It soaks into her sore hands, easing the aches of cane use and near-frostbite.

And then she coughs, and looks up from her mug with an expression of what can only be described as utter horror. "Whuh?!" She leans in close to the tailor, whispering as loudly as she can. (At least she's not shouting it to the rooftops.) What do you- you don't- huh?!?!" Thursday can't put her cup down fast enough. With hands warmed by her drink, she grabs the Tailor's hand, and, staring into their eyes with burning intensity, whispers "It's both our birthday now then!!! You can't not have a birthday!"

Is that a hint of anger, under the confusion, that nobody dared give the Tailor a birthday? Well, she's decided to fix it regardless.

As before, Thursday's whirlwind of emotion threatens to throw the Tailor off their balance. "Wh-" His hands are warm from the cocoa but his eyes are practically alight with inner heat! They force them not to flush under the intensity of the gaze, head ducking a little.

"Yes!!!" She squeaks only a little, and squeezes their hand only a little more than that. Well. A lot more. "Happy birthday to us!"

For a moment, she's able to hold eye contact. The proximity allows a good look at the Tailor's eyes. Even this close, they're a deep black. Thursday feels themself spinning and swimming, but it doesn't bother her. Honestly, it doesn't even occur to her that the spinning might come from something other than their own wobbliness.

Even still, no moment last forever. Thursday drops her eyes, and sees the Tailor smiling. That is when she blushes and averts her gaze. A scarf would be remarkably helpful in hiding the dark flush across her cheeks and ears, but alas, she had no such thing.

Thursday surresptisiouly removes a hand to take a totally non-suspicious drink of her hot chocolate. Thankfully, the delay cooled it enough for safe drinking. Otherwise, she would have a burnt tongue right about now.

She thinks, then sets her drink back down. "Did ya hear about the picture stands? I haven't checked them out yet myself!"

Good good, a nice distracting answer to a question! A nice distracting hot cocoa mustache too.

Pleased, the Tailor drinks their own cocoa with a happy noise. They consider the suggestion around the edge of their mug, eyes closed in bliss.

"I think I caught a peek," they say finally, when the mug is lowered. "We can absolutely see what it's about!" The grin they offer is cheeky when they glance again at Thursday "Interested in a little treasonous fun? I think I saw one of the Empress."

The hand still over their friend's gives it another little squeeze. "Let's us also see about getting you something warm to settle into, keep the chill out if it insists on sticking round. I wanted to check at least one of them for myself. At your leisure, alright?" The contents of this mug are disappearing quickly- Tailor. Tailor are you- don't lick the rim of it to get the froth. Tailor you are in public. Does your sweet tooth know no bounds?!

The mention of the Empress catches Thursday off guard, sending them laughing into their own mug. "Anyone else but her please. No no no, wait," Thursday giggles, struggling to get her next sentence out. "Wait let's put a little red pin on her-" They dissolve into laughter.

Listen, listen- no there is no excuse. The Tailor loves cocoa. It's sweet and rich and warm. It's a delicacy they didn't grow up with! Now they can splurge. Which is why when the mug is offered to them, the cocoa fiend Tailor has at least the decency to blush a little before they do the only correct thing and finish the contents of that mug as well.

White Lace Summer Gown

c. 1905

Kerry Taylor Auctions

We haven't discussed brocade enough, lately, and this Worth gown is a great example of how mixing patterns and solids can really make a gown sing. It dates from 1883-84 and is from the MCNY Collections. The brocaded silk is from Lyon, one of the biggest silk powerhouses in all of Europe.

First, there's the color of this dress--both the solid satin and brocaded area uses the same deep blue, and that blends everything together beautifully.

Then, picking up on the orange-rust colors in the pattern, the designer choose to do a little peek-a-boo at the front of the skirt. To make things even more fancy, he also trimmed the front skirt in Van Dyke edging--that's those little triangle shapes--which was very popular during the Regency.

The draping brings the eye up to the very pinnacle of where this all begins: the hips. So even though the wearer of this dress may be well-covered, she is also a little bit daring.

everyone should assign birds to their characters I think. fun and enriching activity

[continued from here]

"Eh," the Tailor starts with a noncommittal tone, taking the comment as approval for the choice, and edging forward to get the Frazzled Seller's attention, "No more nor less than the other drinks here, and business has been good. Did you know I've a shop behind the Glass Door now? Miss Ivy and I keep quite busy."

Not to mention, of course, the Bazaar's own wealth bolstering them, but then the Tailor doesn't particularly need the help, and never did.

"You uhm... you work in the Bazaar itself now? Wow, that's..." They paused, caught between words. Terrifying? Amazing? "Daunting! You've gotta have a lotta customers, huh? Wait, no, you just said that-"

She covers her face with her free hand.

Wait... "Miss Ivy?" Thursday didn't recall anyone by that name.

In the time it took the Tailor to fetch their drinks, Thursday found a small table not too far away. Probably for the best, snow and slippery ice are notoriously bad for wobbly beetles using canes. A cane which has been temporarily set aside.

She smiles brightly at the ridiculous amount of marshmallows, not even thinking to ask the Tailor if they're certain they don't want them. Soon enough, she's lowering her face into her cup, carefully sucking what-might-be-fresh marshmallows off the top. The scene is incredibly silly. Luckily, Thursday seems to be unaware of how she looks from the outside.

Nearly better than the sugar, the cup radiates a lovely heat, tempered by her patchy gloves. It soaks into her sore hands, easing the aches of cane use and near-frostbite.

And then she coughs, and looks up from her mug with an expression of what can only be described as utter horror. "Whuh?!" She leans in close to the tailor, whispering as loudly as she can. (At least she's not shouting it to the rooftops.) What do you- you don't- huh?!?!" Thursday can't put her cup down fast enough. With hands warmed by her drink, she grabs the Tailor's hand, and, staring into their eyes with burning intensity, whispers "It's both our birthday now then!!! You can't not have a birthday!"

Is that a hint of anger, under the confusion, that nobody dared give the Tailor a birthday? Well, she's decided to fix it regardless.

As before, Thursday's whirlwind of emotion threatens to throw the Tailor off their balance. "Wh-" His hands are warm from the cocoa but his eyes are practically alight with inner heat! They force them not to flush under the intensity of the gaze, head ducking a little.

"Yes!!!" She squeaks only a little, and squeezes their hand only a little more than that. Well. A lot more. "Happy birthday to us!"

For a moment, she's able to hold eye contact. The proximity allows a good look at the Tailor's eyes. Even this close, they're a deep black. Thursday feels themself spinning and swimming, but it doesn't bother her. Honestly, it doesn't even occur to her that the spinning might come from something other than their own wobbliness.

Even still, no moment last forever. Thursday drops her eyes, and sees the Tailor smiling. That is when she blushes and averts her gaze. A scarf would be remarkably helpful in hiding the dark flush across her cheeks and ears, but alas, she had no such thing.

Thursday surresptisiouly removes a hand to take a totally non-suspicious drink of her hot chocolate. Thankfully, the delay cooled it enough for safe drinking. Otherwise, she would have a burnt tongue right about now.

She thinks, then sets her drink back down. "Did ya hear about the picture stands? I haven't checked them out yet myself!"

Good good, a nice distracting answer to a question! A nice distracting hot cocoa mustache too.

Pleased, the Tailor drinks their own cocoa with a happy noise. They consider the suggestion around the edge of their mug, eyes closed in bliss.

"I think I caught a peek," they say finally, when the mug is lowered. "We can absolutely see what it's about!" The grin they offer is cheeky when they glance again at Thursday "Interested in a little treasonous fun? I think I saw one of the Empress."

The hand still over their friend's gives it another little squeeze. "Let's us also see about getting you something warm to settle into, keep the chill out if it insists on sticking round. I wanted to check at least one of them for myself. At your leisure, alright?" The contents of this mug are disappearing quickly- Tailor. Tailor are you- don't lick the rim of it to get the froth. Tailor you are in public. Does your sweet tooth know no bounds?!

[continued from here]

"Eh," the Tailor starts with a noncommittal tone, taking the comment as approval for the choice, and edging forward to get the Frazzled Seller's attention, "No more nor less than the other drinks here, and business has been good. Did you know I've a shop behind the Glass Door now? Miss Ivy and I keep quite busy."

Not to mention, of course, the Bazaar's own wealth bolstering them, but then the Tailor doesn't particularly need the help, and never did.

"You uhm... you work in the Bazaar itself now? Wow, that's..." They paused, caught between words. Terrifying? Amazing? "Daunting! You've gotta have a lotta customers, huh? Wait, no, you just said that-"

She covers her face with her free hand.

Wait... "Miss Ivy?" Thursday didn't recall anyone by that name.

In the time it took the Tailor to fetch their drinks, Thursday found a small table not too far away. Probably for the best, snow and slippery ice are notoriously bad for wobbly beetles using canes. A cane which has been temporarily set aside.

She smiles brightly at the ridiculous amount of marshmallows, not even thinking to ask the Tailor if they're certain they don't want them. Soon enough, she's lowering her face into her cup, carefully sucking what-might-be-fresh marshmallows off the top. The scene is incredibly silly. Luckily, Thursday seems to be unaware of how she looks from the outside.

Nearly better than the sugar, the cup radiates a lovely heat, tempered by her patchy gloves. It soaks into her sore hands, easing the aches of cane use and near-frostbite.

And then she coughs, and looks up from her mug with an expression of what can only be described as utter horror. "Whuh?!" She leans in close to the tailor, whispering as loudly as she can. (At least she's not shouting it to the rooftops.) What do you- you don't- huh?!?!" Thursday can't put her cup down fast enough. With hands warmed by her drink, she grabs the Tailor's hand, and, staring into their eyes with burning intensity, whispers "It's both our birthday now then!!! You can't not have a birthday!"

Is that a hint of anger, under the confusion, that nobody dared give the Tailor a birthday? Well, she's decided to fix it regardless.

As before, Thursday's whirlwind of emotion threatens to throw the Tailor off their balance. "Wh-" His hands are warm from the cocoa but his eyes are practically alight with inner heat! They force them not to flush under the intensity of the gaze, head ducking a little.

Ah, yes, I see you’ve taken notice of the fine knight I keep dangling in a big gilded cage above my evil throne. Quite the pretty little ornament the would be savior makes, wouldn’t you agree~?

What? No, it IS a big cage. That’s- it’s the standard size for a knight’s cage I’m pretty sure. NO I’m not going to invest in 500 square feet of dungeon, it’s ONE knight! I’m pretty sure knights live in hovels in the wild anyways which is basically the same- Look, the cage is quite literally gilded. He loves the cage! He loves obediently preening in the cage! Yeah well, when you capture your own knight you can keep it in whatever size castle you want to, but this one’s mine. Especially since you’re so obviously jealous of me and my cute and awesome knight anyway.

He loves the cage!