Following in Mother's Footsteps [flashback, solo]

[Amarhyl]

Season of Spring, Day 27, 506AV The girl tapped the end of the pencil to the page in an irregular rhythm. She was sitting at a desk in front of the only window in her room, chin propped up with her left hand. Her light turquoise eyes were distant; the young girl was lost in thought. Before her on the desk lay a small, leather-bound journal. It was somewhat crudely made, the handiwork of the girl herself in fact. The page was empty, save for half a sketch of what appeared to be a tunic of sorts. With a sigh, her eyes re-focused, and she glanced down at the page with a frown. She tapped the pencil again before drawing a cross over the half-drawing. She then started to draw, first a very faint rectangle as the base for her tunic then two, also faint shapes that would form sleeves once her picture was refined. She paused then. Her aim was to have a pattern outline for a tunic; one that she could eventually work from one day. Her brows pulled together in another frown as she tried to imagine the shape she would need to cut from material. She almost threw her pencil on the floor in frustration. She was only a twelve year old girl, and she was not properly educated. Sure, she had been taught language and arithmetic, but that knowledge wasn't helping her now. Maybe, with time and experience, she would understand how fabric folded when it was sewn together, and how different pieces of a single piece of clothing had to be created separately. In the end, she settled for finishing her drawing of a two-dimensional tunic. She altered the shape of the rectangle, thinning the top and expanding the bottom. She then added a slight curve to the top part, drawing a slit in the middle of the neckline. She adjusted the sleeves to what she perceived as the correct length, and shaped them a little. For her final edit, she curved the bottom hem of her sketch. It now was a drawing of what was essentially, one of the tunics she owned viewed from the front. She leant back in her chair and placed her pencil on the table. She flipped the journal closed, absently stroking it's purple leather cover. She looked out of her window again, watching the local children having mock sword-fights with sticks. After a bell or two, the girl heard some footsteps outside her room, and she turned as someone knocked on her door.

[Amarhyl]

Her door opened slowly to reveal her father standing there. He gave the girl a smile. "Mind if I come in Ams?" She nodded and he stepped over the threshold and sat gingerly on the edge of her bed. Amarhyl got up from her chair and moved to sit next to him. He was holding a bundle of cloth in his lap and she looked curiously at it. "What is that dad?" Her father looked at her with a sort of sad smile. "It's some things that belonged to your mother." He lifted the bundle and held it out to the girl. Amarhyl took it, holding the cloth as though it were some priceless artefact from hundreds of years ago. She laid it on her lap and gently took a-hold of one corner, lifting it away from the rest. The first thing she saw was a book, a journal made from leather, much like the one she had left sitting on her desk. She pulled it out, and glanced back at her father. "That, Amarhyl, is your mother's old sketchbook." He reached over and opened the journal a few pages in, to reveal detailed drawings of various items of clothing, complete with handwritten notes. The young girl peered at the delicate script of her mother, running her fingers over the curling italic letters. Her handwriting was nowhere near as beautiful as this. Her's was more...well spidery. She resolved to study her mother's letters, and try to neaten her own. She turned the pages of the book, trying to imagine her mother's drawings as finished items of clothing. She was surprised to find that she could easily picture how she would need to fold the fabrics and where she would sew up the seams. The journal would be, she thought, extremely useful to her, it would help her better the simple images she had in her own book. She also noticed delicate patterns drawn round the edges of the page, which she took to be embroidery designs. She flipped the book closed and turned to her father with a smile. He took the journal from her and motioned to the bundle. Amarhyl pulled away the rest of the cloth to reveal a small leather bag. She curiously opened it and smiled again when she realised it was an embroidery kit. "That," her father moved a few pieces aside so that they could see each item that was in the kit. "is all the tools your mother used to put the patterns onto her clothing. Including that cloak hanging over there." He pointed at the purple velvet cloak on the other side of the room. Around the hem there was a delicate pattern embroidered in gold. Amarhyl looked from the kit to the cloak, and back again. She didn't quite know what it was she felt, but it was something close to amazement to know that her mother, Lauraelyn, had used this very kit, to decorate that very cloak. Her father stood, and placed the sketchbook on the bed. He momentarily rested his hand on his daughter's head before moving to the door. She looked round at him as he smiled at her, before he closed the door with a gentle click. Amarhyl closed the embroidery kit and picked up the sketchbook, placing it next to the kit on her lap. As she gazed down at the two items, which to anyone else would just be some old things, a single tear ran down her cheek.