37th of Winter, 512 Inia twitched, carefully measuring along the edge of the leather segment. She chewed her tongue thoughtfully. Her eyes sparked, flashing violet as she picked up a small charcoal pencil, carefully tracing a curved line along the leather, pausing only when she had drawn a large, vaguely four-sided shape. Still grinding her teeth against her tongue, she grabbed for a knife, fumbling with the handle. She took a sharp breath, holding the knife more carefully than before. Bloodstains on leather didn't sell clothes or armour. The knife's edge bit into the leather. Inia felt the resistance of the thick, tanned surface and pressed harder, carefully guiding the knife along the curved line. Following her pattern, she cut a panel out of the larger piece, tossing the scraps into a basket. Little bits of leather could be used for patches, and Laria didn't appreciate a waste of leather. Neither did Inia, for that matter, though in her case it was less a financial matter and more a personal one. Setting the leather panel aside, Inia reached for another large segment of leather. The teenage girl lied it flat across the table, weighing its corners with stones. Taking the pencil in hand again, she measured and traced two smaller shapes. She groaned, rubbing away one of the charcoal lines. She redrew it painstakingly, half-growling at the leather. She took a moment to stare at the drawn panels before she cut them away from the larger piece. She stacked the twin panels on the larger one, then turned back to the half-uncut piece. She cut two more small pieces, wide, curved bands, like crescents without points, removing them from the now-scrap leather, which she tossed into the basket. Smiling again, she turned to the cut leather. She grabbed at a small box and extracted a needle from inside, holding it between her teeth. She fished in the box again, removing a spool of waxed thread. Carefully, painstakingly, she threaded the needle, pulling the thick thread tight in the needle's eye. Inia glanced around and sighed. “Honestly, mister mannequin, must you always run off?” she asked the air, chuckling to herself. The mannequin in question sat across the room, as it had the entirety of the morning, despite Inia's testimony otherwise. The girl half-carried, half-dragged the mannequin back to the table, frowning at it in mock irritation. “Now, you, just stand still while I hold something on you.” Inia held two of the leather panels, carefully aligning them on the mannequin's torso. Grinning madly, she bent them, fitting them to the mannequin's form, before setting them back on the table, where they returned to flatness. She traded one of the panels for its mirrored twin and repeated the process, gingerly replacing the two panels on the table. She grabbed for the band-like bits of leather next, curving them around the false-man's mock-biceps. “Ok, you. You're done for now. Don't move.” Smiling, she patted the mannequin's head, congratulating it as she would a close friend. The girl turned back to her work, snatching the threaded needle. She held two of the panels together, took a deep breath, and then quickly growled, “holes, Inia! Poke holes first. How are you supposed to stitch without poking...” she trailed off, muttering incoherently to herself as she retrieved an awl, a mallet, a short wooden ruler, and the charcoal pencil she'd used earlier. Measuring carefully at first, but gradually abandoning the preciseness of the ruler for the comfort of her thumbnail, Inia left two rows of small marks along the matched edges of both pieces of leather. She rearranged the panels, repeating the process along what would be another seam, ignoring the ruler completely. She carefully marked the shoulder seams without aligning them. Measurement was useless along such awkward curves, she'd learned, and the best way to sew sleeves on to a leather jerkin was to simply do it, despite how instinctual and impulsive it made her feel. Her eyes sparkled a vibrant purple as she took her awl and hammered holes over each mark along each seam, leaving narrow openings for the thread she'd sew. |