Hair Cuts are a Fashion Statement (Rosela)

[Nailah]

25th of Summer, 513AV

The din of the city pulsed with each step, and her damp hands brushed away the sweat of the day. The light Syna gave was trying its hardest to leave the city cooked but even as it began to set waves of heat seemed to rise from Mizahar itself. Another piece of hair blew into her face and clung on with determination that only served to frustrate the woman further. The fabric of her pants scratched and clung in awkward places, rubbing uncomfortably then leaving the skin raw.

Lifting the map to shade her eyes from the sun Nailah peeked at the lightly circled area again. Her heavier clothes in the heat had gotten her a few looks until an older human woman had pointed out a shop for dresses. She didn't care for dresses much, they oft would catch her feet and make her stumble or they would seem to drag heavier in the water than her pants.

Necessity in this city. I had not thought it would be this hot, even the falls aren't entirely helpful. Not much farther now.

Again she brushed her hair away. She could tie it but the tie hurt her head or tangled her hair in the water, leaving painful knots. A strand cut under her scale, leaving an angry red curve. Maybe I should cut it.

But where was she to even get it cut? Her eyes roved unseeing over the terrain in thought until a she spotted the green building. She stopped, looked to her map, around and then to the green covered building again. The building itself was not green but covered in layers of Ivy that threatened to consume the building but it looked pretty enough. And just above the door beside the bright red gem it proclaimed loudly to be a fashion store.

Tucking her map into her pocket, she noted there did not seem to be many people inside the shop. Unsure she stepped forward and knocked lightly on the door.

[Rosela]

Riverfall was no desert, though the heat was just enough to remind Rosela of home. Despite the heat, she kept her hair down, unwilling to reveal her mark from Akajia. Theoretically, she could have gone with a low ponytail, but the look was so...dull. Not her at all.

The final bell of her day had just rang, and she happily locked up shop. The back room was much cooler with its bare stone floor, and she took off her sandals as she walked back. The coolness felt divine. She wondered if it would be possible to create a makeup that cooled the face, instead of melting off with sweat. It was one of a series of thoughts lately, on other ways to expand her business. A line of makeup perhaps, shoes, hair accessories…

The thought of hair reminded her again of her own, and she picked up a lock to look critically at the split ends. It’d been far too long since she had a haircut, but it was hard to trust a stranger to do it. All her life, the family hair stylist had been the only one to cut her hair, and besides, how could one even manage cutting hair with only two arms? She’d wanted to do it herself, but didn’t care to be her own guinea pig. Nothing more embarrassing than not only having to go to a two-handed stylist, but have to do so to fix what she’d done to herself. She dropped into the chair behind her work bench and let the lock of hair drop. She’d figure out something.

Just as she started to relax, there was a tentative knock at the front door. Groaning deeply, she stood back up. For a brief moment, she considered pretending she wasn’t there, but it was hard to ignore a customer. At the very least, she could invite them to come back the next day.

Putting on her sandals and her saleswoman’s smile, she walked back out to the front and unlocked the door. She opened it partway and smiled out into the heat. A young Konti was there, wearing oddly warm clothes and clearly sweating buckets.

”I’m sorry, but we just closed for the evening. We open tomorrow at the eighth bell.”

[Rosela]

"Oh, ok, I can come back tomorrow."

Rosela smiled at the young woman and made to shut the door again. From across the street, a man's voice cried out, "Wait! Please wait!" The blonde woman paused to start incredulously at him, but moved away. Rosela had no such avenue of escape, as he was clearly talking to her and shutting the door in his face would do nothing but create a disgruntled potential-customer.

"I'm sorry, we just closed-"

"Please!" The man stopped in front of the door, sweating profusely in the heat and holding a package half-wrapped in brown paper. "I really, really need a dress hemmed."

Rosela sighed, one hand reaching back to push stray hairs off the back of her neck. "I'm sorry, but-"

"I'll pay you extra? Double!"

The money certainly gave her pause, but he had a look of fierce desperation about him that made her wonder if she could score some extra publicity if he told his friends she helped him out. Sighing with great drama, she raised an eyebrow and opened the door for him to step inside.

"You're closed." The shadow under the shelf of women's trousers stated it, neither complaining nor curious, but with the vage affectation of a fact that was being ignored.

As she led the Akalak to the desk at the back, she gave the shadow under the the trousers a side look. She never answered them when customers were around, but it didn't seem to stop them from chiming in on occasion.

"So what's this emergency hemming all about?" Slipping behind the desk, she reached up with two hands to push her hair out of her face.

"It's my wife you see," Rosela's spirits dampened slightly at his words. He was a bit lean for her tastes, but dealing with single men always put a brighter spin on the conversation. "I promised for her birthday to take her dress down here and get the hem taken out, but I kept forgetting... She bought it here last fall and she's decided she wants it a bit longer..."

So a little too lean and a little too forgetful. Two marks against him and he was firmly out of Rosela's books. He nervously pulled apart the wrapping and took out what Rosela immediately recognized as one of her designs. If her memory served, she remembered the woman as well. "I think I remember selling this one. Konti, really short blonde hair, likes daffodils?"

There was a brief blank stare. "She, uh, likes to keep her hair short?"

No longer interested in making eyes at him, Rosela gave him a stern look instead. "You don't know what your wife's favorite flowers are?"

He look affronted instead of chastised, and waved his hand at the unfolded dress between them. "I... Look, I just need the hem taken out."

"Mmhm." Pursing her lips, she leaned back to pull a stitch ripper, thread bobbin, and pincushion from her work basket under the desk. "This should just take a chime."

"Uh, cool." Nodding awkwardly, he swayed on his feet, looking around the shop. Before long, he had wandered over into the men's shirts.

Keeping him in her peripheral, Rosela refolding the dress so the bottom hem lay out and flat. She pulled the small, curved blade of the stitch ripper neatly through each stitch, pausing afterword to slip the hem down and re-pin it an inch lower. She personally felt the dress would be a hair too long after taking the hem out, but if that's what the woman wanted... "So what else did you get her?" She asked out into the silent shop, her customer looking up in surprise from the mens belt rack.

"What else? She, uh... This is what she wanted."

Halfway done pinning the new hem down, Rosela paused and looked incredulously up at him. "And you just accepted that? Please tell me you got her some flowers or something. Even if they're not daffodils." Awkward shuffling was her only answer. "No sweets? No jewelry? For Cheva's sake, did you at least take her to a nice dinner?"

"Ha!" He shouted triumphantly. "We did go to dinner. We went up to the Blue B-" He abruptly ducked as a spare pincushion flew over his head.

"The Blue Bull! It's her birthday! You couldn't have saved up a little bit and gone to the Crystal Rose?!" Nostrils flared, she made a concerted effort to refocus on the hem. At the very least, the poor woman would have a nice dress, if not a nice husband. Break stitch, move the hem, pin in place. Break stitch, move the hem...

"It's so stuffy in there..." He whined miserably from the other side of the shop, but quieted immediately at the look Rosela shot him.

[Rosela]

After she promised not to throw anything else at him on the condition he shut his trap, the man was leaning against the desk, clearly bored. Rosela had finished pinning, and was now making hair-thin herringbone stitches through the new hem of the dress. The former stitches had been thin as well, so the old holes were nearly invisible.

Feeling calm enough to talk, Rosela abruptly waved him over to the women's side. He swung his head down to exaggeratedly avoid the pins in her hand. Ignoring it, she pointed to the far side of the room. "There's a silk scarf in that pile with an embroidered daffodil on it. Buy it for her."

He looked up hopeful for a moment, before grimacing. "...Silk?"

Fed up, Rosela very nearly broke her thread yanking on it. "You will buy that scarf, take it home to her, and treat her like a queen for every remaining second of this evening, am I clear?"

Looking very much like a boy just sent to time out, he worked his jaw for a moment before giving up and skulking over to the scarves. Rosela sighed irritably and went back over the line of stitches she'd just done, pulling the thread back to unbuckle the fabric. She wasn't entirely certain why she wanted to beat the man with the heel of her shoe, but she was honest enough with herself to admit it was likely to do with the miserable time she'd had the day before - on her own birthday.

"Which one's the daffodil?" He called sheepishly.

"The yellow one." Rosela didn't look up from her line of stitches this time, but listened to his footsteps return. The scarf slipped onto the desk in her peripheral vision in a slippery pile of blue silk.

They spent the remaining moments in silence, the heat making the tension all the more palpable. Finally pulling through the last stitch, Rosela looped the thread through the stitch before it, knotted it off, and snipped it. Four hands spread the hem to make sure she had it straight. Satisfied, she folded the dress, the scarf, and nudged them back into the wrapped the man had brought them in.

"5 gold mizas. For both."

He handed over the mizas without question and as he moved back to the front, looking somewhat put out, he offered a mumbled "Thank you," before disappearing out into the darkening evening. Rosela didn't respond, but watched him go and sat at her desk, thinking about the young Konti she'd seen in the fall and wondering what would possess anyone to marry such an imbecile.

[Elysium]

Rosela

Experience
Sewing +3
Rhetoric +3
Observation +2
Intimidation +1
Business/Retail +1

Lore
Retail: Sorry, We're Closed
Sewing: Stitch Ripper
Observation: Too Lean, Too Forgetful
Sewing: Herringbone Stitch
Intimidation: Buy the Scarf!

Notes
Oh, I loved this. Lots. That poor, stupid Akalak didn't know what he signed up for and Rosela certainly educated him on how to treat a lady! If you have any questions about the grade, shoot me a message.