#also chiffon is an evil fabric and I will never work with it again

[starsandauras]

Prompt 2: Bolt

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Prompt 2: Bolt Streamer AU is back! Yay!

“What’s this one?” Alisaie asked, sliding a scrap of fabric over to Brigid, who automatically reached out for it without looking, focused more on the design taking form under her pencil.

It was an iridescent purple, but otherwise wasn’t particularly shiny. She crumpled it under her hand, and it looked and sounded all the world like crumpling loose leaf paper. “Silk taffeta,” she said distractedly, sliding it back over to Alisaie.

Alphinaud slid another swatch over to her, this one a soft blue color, and light and flowy. “This one?” he asked, his carbuncle chirping seemingly in encouragement from Alphinaud’s lap.

She grasped at it, rubbing the fabric between her fingers to test the texture. “Ugh,” she groaned, flicking it away from her. The twins watched as it floated back down to the table. “Chiffon,” she practically spat out, like it was a curse. “Evil fabric, nay worth the bother of workin’ with.”

“You can identify it only through touch?” Alphinaud asked, head tilted as he poked at the rejected swatch, wondering what was so terrible about this chiffon.

“If ‘tis bein’ made proper like, aye,” she murmured, again distracted by her design. “If Alisaie was handin’ me a shantung, I’d be tellin’ it from the bits woven in. Taffeta’s nay havin’ it, and chiffon is being lighter.” She spat the word again, making Alphinaud raise an eyebrow at his sister, she just shrugged, equally confused.

Instead she slid another swatch over, a deep crimson and incredibly shiny, practically puddling on the table, the wrong side matte. “And this?”

Once again, Brigid picked it up without actually looking at it, moving it about in her hand. “Charmeuse,” she settled on, before finally looking up at them. “Were you two diggin’ through me silk stash?” she asked, smiling softly as the two looked away from her and towards each other, shifting nervously.

“It’s a good texture,” Alphinaud finally spoke up, but his voice was quiet, and his carbuncle curled up against his chest.

“Well, not the taffeta,” Alisaie added, moving to look over Brigid’s shoulder. “Is that one going on the stream?” she asked, clearly changing the subject.

Brigid hummed, more than happy to move on if they wanted. “Nay, ‘tis a private commission, havenae cleared it for the stream yet, nay sure if I’m goin’ to ask.”

Alphinaud also peeked over, blinking at it for a moment. “This isn’t the dress Mother commissioned,” he eventually said, looking up at Brigid.

“Mm, still waitin’ on the fabric she was wantin’ for it. Dinnae keep damask in the stash.”

“What’s this one for then?” Alisaie asked, only looking up at Brigid when the other woman was quiet for a long moment. “No,” she practically gasped. “Is this for the opera house?!”

“You said you’d never do work for him again after the time their in-house cutter and draper walked out!”

“Wait, was the cutter-draper? I thought it was the assistant designer.”

Brigid groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Hyth was askin’,” she mumbled. “Was callin’ in a favor.”

The twins (and carbuncle) stared at each other before staring back at Brigid. “What’s he paying you?” Alisaie finally asked.

“Thousand gil and ten yalms of emerald green watered silk,” Brigid answered, face still in her hands.

“The fabric that looks like the waves in Ala Mhigan steel?” Alphinaud asked, and Brigid nodded. Alisaie whistled low, under her breath.

“That’s fair then.”