Solo [Job Thread] The Worst Best Day Ever

[Piraen Saneka]

46th of Summer, 516 AV

It was an exceptionally beautiful day in Ravok. Though every day was pleasant, this day in particular was the perfect temperature. It was the kind of warmth that was the kind of intoxicating that lured people into windowsill naps or bells of leisurely walking. A slight breeze flowed through the canals, just strong enough to offer relief to the overheated but not strong enough to rustle hair out of place.

“This is the type of day they tell stories about.” Pi overheard a woman say this, and only this, as she passed by him. In protest, Pi threw out an exasperated groan. They better be damn good stories, Pi angrily though. Because that’s all I’ll get to see of today. He wished he had a window, a vent, an anything that let him experience the day. Instead, the tailor was stuck in his cramped little closet-office with nothing but a to-do list and the dark. A beaten Pi dragged his chair to the door. After kicking away some loose socks that needed to be darned, Pi dropped the chair and plopped into it. He’d be damned before he missed out on this day, even if that meant pressing himself against the wall to get a glimpse of the front door when it opened.

First on the list for the day was sewing a new arm onto a shirt. How exactly the owner of this shirt had ripped off the entire arm was beyond Pi. Part of him wished he could live with the same reckless abandon that allowed this person to just shred a shirt like it didn’t cost mizas or manpower to fix.

Head pressed up against the wall, Pi twisted out the the shirt. His lanky fingers ran along the edge of the armhole. "Not too bad." The tailor muttered to himself as he analyzed the fray. It hadn’t frayed so much that Pi had to reconstruct the shirt itself. As he placed the shirt on the desk to his left, Pi breathed a “Praise Rhysol.” The faster this shirt was done, the faster Piraen could get the wonderful task of sock-darning (which, of course, could be done outside).

Pi glanced down the hall longingly before standing up. He didn’t create solo sleeves very often, so he didn’t have a pattern readily available. Though not too difficult, creating something without a pattern was pretty tedious. The man crossed the room and grabbed the bolt of fabric the Ebonstryfe had provided. All repairs were done using this fabric, regardless of whether or not it was the same color or material as the original garment. Pi liked to think that wearing this patch of shame would prevent the wearer from defiling their clothes ever again. Of course, it didn’t.

[Piraen Saneka]

Placing the bolt on the table, Piraen eyeballed the length of it. Pi twisted his head to one side and drummed his fingers against the table. If he wasn’t being lazy, the tailor would cut off the other sleeve and use it as a pattern. Today, however, Pi was being lazy. Instead, he took a few measurements from the remaining sleeve: from the shoulder seam to the cuff, the armpit seam to the cuff, the circumference of the cuff and the circumference of the top of the sleeve. After double-checking these measurements, Pi took them down.

From there, Pi scooted the shirt out of the way and flattened out the bolt of fabric. He roughly smoothed out the fabric as another group of people chattered by his door. Without really paying any attention, he heard the distinct sound of a garment being tossed into his office. As he chalked out the measurements, the tailor grumbled in response to his entitled clients. “Oh, no problem. It’s my pleasure.” Piraen continued his act, smiling genteelly as he pretended to converse with someone. “My day has been great, thank you for asking. And yourself? Enjoying the weather?” The man’s grumbles grew quieter as his brooding internalized. One day, I swear. One day these people will respect my work.

He continued to sulk as he chalked out the measurements. First, he drew a straight line towards the bottom of the fabric. This would be the cuff. After splitting this measurement in half, he dragged his chalk up to match the shoulder-to-cuff measurement. From there, he felt he had a good enough idea of how big the sleeve would be so he roughly snipped his sleeve from the rest of the bolt.