#spinning yarn: tools bought never used

[pearl-kite]

rug hooking, hnggg

[trashpandacraft]

when we last saw our hero (me, in this instance), they had just run out of photos on their sheep and wool post because apparently the accursed tumblr app has a ten-photo limit. fear not, though, because now i'm on my actual computer!

so: bendigo sheep and wool pt ii: the fibre!!

i bought a couple silk hankies, because i've never spun one before and it sounded fun, and they were cheap. couldn't find any undyed, alas, but surely someone on the internet does that, right?

i also bought some dyed mulberry silk. i've got some tussah that i'm going to dye, but these were pretty and relatively inexpensive, and i'm a sucker.

aaaaaand then i bought some sari silk, which i've never used before! several of you have been doing some gorgeous stuff with sari silk recently, though, and i'm a copycat, so here we are.

i have no idea why my phone decided that all of these needed to have ~depth~ added to the shots, but i'm not hauling all of this out again, so here we are. you get the vibe.

i also got a little coil of bamboo fibre, because i've never spun bamboo on its own before. (i don't know if i'll actually spin this on its own or if i'll blend it, but now i have the option!)

i also got a thing of optim fibre (incredibly poorly formatted post from 2011, but explanatory), which i've never used before—it's merino that's been processed to stretch it out, making it even finer and softer. it's sort of weird to touch—it feels more like silk or created fibres than it does wool, but it seemed like it would be fun to try.

moving on to even more exciting stuff, we bought some castledale top. castledale isn't a breed yet, but is being developed as one, and i've heard that it's a delight to spin.

obviously it was important that we get both the plain and the kind with silk in it.

and, see, that was important because we hadn't yet done the most exciting thing we did all weekend, which was finding some gorgeous, affordable, locally made hand combs!

if you're in australia and want fibre tools, you should absolutely check out their website, and honestly, even if you're not, the shipping might be worth it. they were so, so nice, and the tools we got there are just gorgeous. (they're less yellow than this, in person, but my phone doesn't play nicely with the purple light in my bedroom at eleven p.m.)

we ended up getting mini combs, because as we were talking, the guy who makes them noticed my heavily kt-taped wrist and pointed out that the mini combs are less wear on your wrists, which sold me.

they also had some wonderfully designed lazy kates, which will hopefully let me avoid ever having to do this again.

the cleverest part is that it flat packs—the bobbin holders just lift out, and the orifice (it has an orifice!!) is held in place by the little screw up front. the tension is controlled by turning the knob, just like on a spinning wheel.

can't say enough about what lovely people they were, and i'm so excited to have enough fine motor control that it feels safe to assemble the cards. this weekend, hopefully.

and you might be thinking 'ok but are you just like...using those for blending?' and the answer would be no!! because we also bought these!

i went in thinking 'oh, i'm going to get something that's not an incredibly fine wool,' but like...what was i thinking? we're in australia. the only thing anyone produces here is fine wools! which isn't at all a complaint, because this looks gorgeous. so we got 1.5 kilos of corrie, and 1.7 of a bond/merino cross. the cross in particular looks absolutely stunning, and i cannot wait to start playing with them.

the rather elderly (80-ish?) woman working at the north east yarns booth gave us a lengthy talk about spinning in the grease, which i might try. one of the really interesting things to me here was that i've only ever looked at raw fleeces in the northeastern us before now, where the weather concerns are...uh, somewhat different? these fleeces don't have the dirt that i've seen on raw fleece before, just dusty bits—they're almost more like what i would associate with alpaca with regards to actual dirt/vm, but with bonus lanolin. so that's a nice bonus, and makes the idea of spinning in the grease was less offputting. (yes, i know that you can buy cleaner fleeces in the united states, too, and you can coat your sheep or have dry weather or whatever, but that's not an experience that i personally have had.)

this concludes (mostly) the list of things i bought at sheep and wool (also i bought slippers), and illustrates both why i cannot be trusted and also incredible restraint on my part.

[lucasrajan]

Day 22 - Veracity

The truth was eternally useful. Lucas Rajan found there was no better tool with which to manipulate others than the truth given in just the right way. But often enough something else was just as useful, if not more so. Not a lie — but speculation.

“Chairman Rajan,” a reporter for The Horizon Sun asked him one day at market. “Can you confirm the rumors that you mean to form an expedition into Ilsabard?”

“Is that what has been said about me?”

Of course it was. He had given careful instructions to his “head of staff” to share such speculation with her “most trusted confidant.” That was, of course, code for “person who shares everything they hear but never gets it quite right.”

The gruff old caravaner Leesa Ferrier was good for this sort of thing, too. She could spin a yarn a malm long and leave the listener sure they knew just what merchant she had bought it from, only just about every listener would be sure of a different vendor in a different market.

Then there were his own contacts — thieves, pickpockets, soldiers.

By the time the question finally looped back around to him, Lucas could be sure of public opinion regarding the rumor. And, so often, speculation led to anticipation. So he would give the people what they wanted: What he wanted.

“That’s right. It’s everywhere, that you mean to fight for Ul’dah.”

Yes, forget a moment Royalists and Monetarists. Ul’dah.

“It is true that I would like to find a good way to put my skills to use. And I have made inquiries...”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Song for Autumn: Home || Morgan & Deirdre  (pt.1)

TIMING: A few days ago

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan’s ritual needs a very specific conduit. Deirdre knows exactly what she’s looking for.

CONTAINS: Brief discussions of past physical and emotional abuse

One a single minute had passed between the last time Deirdre glanced over at Morgan and tried to stir her attention with a pout, and the horrific realization that Morgan was too entrenched in her reading to even notice Deirdre’s piteous gaze. She’d finished sharpening the knives she sat down with minutes ago, now bored with reveling in the warm silence that filled these afternoons shared with Morgan. It was one singular, burning, terrible, minute from the last time she tried to stir Morgan’s attention, and another two minutes from the time she tried before then. And she knew it would be more agonizing minutes before Morgan remembered she was there at all, and that the sound of scraping against whetstone no longer claimed the air. Sometimes, action needed to be taken into her own hands. With the grace of a cat, she pounced on Morgan’s legs--careful of her files and folders--and crawled up until she could put her face in front of whatever decidedly less attractive text she was reading. Her eyes sparked with curiosity, but her mouth twitched with the tell-tale mark of a fae that wanted attention. “I know you physically can’t get wrinkles, but---” Deirdre offered a wide smile, raising her thumb to wipe away the concentration that fraught between Morgan’s brows. “You’ve been very interested in your papers lately.” The and not so much in me, your adoring and very attractive girlfriend hung unsaid in the air, having been said enough times before to be an echo in the way she pouted. “What are you up to? Anything I can steal you from?” She eyed the cup of once boiling tea---brewed as strong as tea could be---now lukewarm and staining the inside of one of several mugs Deirdre had bought for Morgan. It was a trait that persisted even through death, but Morgan always touched her tea more when it was grading or lesson plans on her mind. “This is Constance stuff, isn’t it?”  

The books Morgan and Cece had stolen from the professor’s house were more of a gold mine than she had wanted to believe. She was so used to the world falling around her or promising doors slamming in her face. But this--? Whatever retribution game the original owner of this book had been playing at was, it had been thorough. The one Morgan was settling on was particularly insidious, calling for extra sources of energy, for objects to stabilize and direct the energy safely, for even wielding the pain brought on with precision, ramping it up more as the ritual progressed. Finding someone with the stamina for an hours-long ordeal, and the nerve to go through with this kind of harm, wouldn’t be easy. But Morgan had money, and she could front her own materials. It was only right that she invest herself in her ritual, even if she could do nothing in its execution. The ingredients ran the gamut from easy to forage herbs to...the obscure. Some of the terms were things Morgan hadn’t even heard of…

Deirdre’s voice shocked her out of her stupor. She hadn’t even heard her climb onto the couch. Morgan squealed, then deflated with relief and leaned over to kiss away her pout. “If you want to cuddle, you just have to ask, my love,” she said sweetly. “But yes, it’s Constance. This book has everything I need and then some, but as I’m trying to get my lists together, what I need, where and how am I going to get it, who is going to help and/or bodyguard me from more ghost attacks...I’m not actually sure what all of this stuff is?” She shifted the papers she wasn’t using to the coffee table and guided Deirdre to lay against her so they could look together. “Now, thanks to Evelyn’s help, I’m getting through this weird blend of Latin and French way better that I would have on my own. But this--” she pointed. “Translates to a comb of iron? Iron comb? Is that like...a hair comb?” She laughed, self deprecating at her own confusion and stroked Deirdre’s hair, bringing her in for another kiss.

Deirdre continued to crawl her way between the couch and Morgan, resting her head on the woman’s chest as she’d so often done to her. It, admittedly, was not as comfortable as they would be on more forgiving furniture, but it was better than being sat in her separate chair, sharing longing looks with the side of her girlfriend’s head. “I have been asking, you just hadn’t looked up a single time to see it,” she tried to sound hurt, but her grumble couldn’t last under the delight of finally being able to hold Morgan. She draped her arms around Morgan’s stomach and pressed tight, tilting her head down to see what Morgan was talking about. She stared at the words under her girlfriend’s finger. Blinked. Closed her eyes and kissed Morgan eagerly, imagining the words would shift when she opened them again. But there they were. Peigne de fer. La carde. A jumble of French she didn’t understand, but the English Morgan translated, she did. Her body tensed by reflex, then shivered. “It’s for sheep.” She explained plainly. “Or for the wool, more specifically.” Her hand tightened around Morgan, gripping the fabric of her clothing tightly. “You card the wool to straighten the fibers and pull out any clumps so you can begin spinning it.” She slumped against Morgan and closed her eyes. Memories she would have done well to forget drifted back to her. Her mother held one such Warden designed iron carder in her hands, and spoke something or another about the old fashioned ones and the torture they enjoyed. Somewhere, beyond their bodies, a pig squealed. “The more modern hand carders look just like combs, that’s all they really are, anyway. But the older ones are…” She swallowed and opened her eyes. “That’s what I think your passages are talking about, at least. They aren’t used for much else.”  

Laying sprawled together like this delighted Morgan to no end. Toes curling, legs tangling, she folded herself around her girlfriend and showered her head in yet more kisses. “Mmm, I’m sorry, babe,” she murmured, gathering Deirdre’s hair so it would be easier to play with. “I suppose I’ll have to make it up to you, or else be severely punished.” She giggled and tilted Deirdre’s chin up to steal another kiss, a proper lingering one that left cotton tingles on her cheek and lips and reminded her of what touch had once been. The memory grew harder to find each month, but warmth of feeling beneath it never faltered.

Morgan’s pleasure didn’t last for long. Deirdre tensed in her arms, trembling, and looked away from the text. Morgan couldn’t connect her girlfriend’s explanation about the comb to her distress, but she knew something was wrong. “Hey…” she cooed, leaning down to give more kisses. “What is it, my love?” Was it the iron? The sheep? Morgan looked at the text again, putting the image of a plain farm tool in place of the words. “It is a weird choice for a conduit, I guess,” she mumbled, “Are the kind of combs this is probably referring to kind of big or bulky?” The ritual had been written during the French Revolution, after all, when a band of exorcists and casters determined the guillotine had been too good for some aristocrats, and destroying their ghosts was their second chance. Whatever they determined would suit their purpose probably wasn’t subtle, which suited Morgan just fine, in theory. “The uh...the sheep aren’t still attached to the wool, right?” She asked, still trying to make sense of Deirdre’s reaction. “I don’t have to bring it into the house, you know. It can stay in the garage, or a lock box in the shed if we ever get it back. Somewhere you won’t touch it by accident?” Morgan set aside her book altogether and wrapped Deirdre up in her arms. “Talk to me,” she said in a whisper. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

“And I’m not known to be merciful, my love.” Deirdre hummed, and then her voice spilled into laughter. Of course, if anyone would pick up on what she was feeling, even before she processed it herself, it would be Morgan. By some miracle, her love knew her exceptionally well, and Deirdre was thankful for it. If it wasn’t for her gentle assurances and nudges, Deirdre never would summon the strength to bear honesty with such ease. She laughed again, and shifted to bury her head into Morgan’s neck. There, enveloped in Morgan--surrounded by her scent and the gentle tugging of her undeadness--she imagined that there was a world without iron combs. Without their truth. Without pain. A world that they deserved, and could have. A happy, gentle world, where Deirdre might just have been the bright and brilliant person Morgan seemed to think she was. A good world. A kind world. Their world. Deirdre was stirred to reality by the rustling of paper, pulled back and opened her eyes to their house--filled with their things. It wasn’t too far off from some magical land where terror couldn’t find them; most days, it felt like that. Her eyes moved to the papers, books, notes and folders scattered around them. The scene looked eerily like the one in the Haven Hotel, months ago, when there was a heartbeat pressed against Deirdre’s cheek. Back then, there had been a lump in her stomach, a gnawing fear that Morgan would be lost to fate. She’d been right, and left to wonder if her fear was premonition or simple anxiety. When the same lump settled inside of her again, she didn’t know what to think. “I don’t know how someone touches a pointy comb by accident,” Deirdre laughed, pressing a firm kiss to Morgan’s cheek. “And the sheep aren’t attracted, no. Wool processing is long; you have to shear it and then prepare and wash it. Then it dries and---” Deirdre reddened, coughing as she remembered that yarn production was not Morgan’s concern now. Anything, perhaps, to save a few seconds before the truth. “Torture,” she said after a moment. “It’s probably an effective conduit because it was used for torture. You rake it across someone’s flesh. The iron must be effective for ghosts.” Just as it was for fae, and just as Deirdre knew how such devices worked against her kind. Not that it mattered. “Hm, the hand carders aren’t so big. There are, obviously, bigger ones out there. What do the books say you need?”

Morgan knew from Deirdre’s hesitation that what followed would be anything but good. She even knew from the deliberate plainness her girlfriend spoke with that she hadn’t gotten the knowledge out of a book. There had been enough references to the extracurricular torture Sibohan had put Deirdre through, but the image of a comb bristling with iron points had never crossed Morgan’s mind. She brushed her knuckles down her soft, freckled skin, trying to imagine someone tearing and burning it at once. Was that something Wardens did for fun that Sibohan thought she needed to impart? Or was it just another barbaric lesson. “Oh, Deirdre…” she whispered. “I had...no idea…” She tucked them closer together, curled up and all but locked in place, as if that could do anything for how she’d been thoughtfully tortured and broken from the outside in years ago. “You know we…” she grimaced and buried her face in her hair. “I know what we said before, but you don’t have to do this with me. I can…” her stomach turned at the thought of trying to find something like this, holding it in her hand, knowing what it was really for and how it had been used to hurt Deirdre. “I can figure this one out on my own. I can...I don’t know. But I don’t want you to have to relive anything like that because of me.” She didn’t know how to say it, but she feared Deirdre conflating her with that torture just as much. But Constance was different, and so was Morgan. She wouldn’t do something so monstrous for no reason, and never to anyone she wasn’t certain deserved it. But hurt did funny things to people, and trauma haunted in ways that didn’t always make sense.

“What?” If Deirdre had the strength to sit up and ruin the tight, tangled hold the two of them had perfected, she might have from the shock. “No, no,” she calmed her voice. “I’m not reliving anything, I’m not--I wouldn’t be. It doesn’t---” She sighed, and lifted her head up, trying to catch Morgan’s to pepper with reassurance and affection where she could. “The things that I’ve seen, and been through...they exist everywhere. In iron combs, spoons, mugs--” Deirdre gestured around their house. “At one point, one of these things has been bad for me in some way. By what was done with them, by them having been witnesses. With what I’ve seen, what I’ve been made to see. I don’t look at a mug and always think about each that my mother threw at a wall anymore than you must look at a lock and imagine the one of your bedroom. I’d much rather see a cup as being something you hold, something I get to pour your boiling tea into. I’d rather see it as good. And that’s exactly what I think about when I look at it.” She pressed into Morgan, holding her tighter. “And if I can help you, if a tool like that can be used to deliver justice, then it gets to be good. And I get to see it that way. The rest doesn’t matter to me. You are good,  and you will use whatever tool you see fit, however you want to, and I will love you all the same.” Deirdre smiled softly, twisting her body up so she could kiss her girlfriend with as much love as she could muster. And again. And again, and again until she was sure her point was clear. She raked her teeth along Morgan’s lip as she drew back, thinking nothing of the iron and the way it could tear at her own flesh. “Thank you, my love. But it’s okay. The torture done to my kind is never a pleasant thing to think about, but it’s not new to me, and it’s not so terrible a thought that I won’t help you. I want to. I know it will serve you better than it would anyone else. I trust you, Morgan, and I love you. More than anything else. Now, what does your research say about the comb? Is there a specific kind you need?”

Morgan threw herself into Deirdre’s kisses, returning them with her own, firm and earnest and bursting with an affection she couldn’t put into words. She couldn’t say, ‘you dodged your mother’s mugs, too?’ and ‘I love your resilience and your courage and how much you love me,’ and ‘you are the wisest and most wonderful woman I know’ at the same time, much less in the seconds it took to take her lip between her teeth. And even these thoughts, swimming around her head as they slipped deeper into the couch cushions, didn’t quite get to the heart of the recognition that cut through her, or how it mixed with horror, sympathy, pride, affection, gratitude. She hoped that the alchemy between them would translate and Deridre would understand what even she couldn’t. Morgan didn’t bother with words at all until she felt Deirdre’s breathing grow strained against her.

“You’re incredible,” Morgan whispered. “I am so very proud to know you, Deirdre.” Another kiss, chased and sweet. “And, about that, I’m sticking hard to the original to minimize surprises, and I don’t want some stodgy exorcist to turn me down for not being through enough, so…”

[yukiwrites]

The Most Illustrious Visit

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @breeachuu! Thanks for your patience as well ^v^;)

Summary: Cressida’s pregnancy is the best excuse for Owain’s future past friends to pay him a visit or two. Or maybe three. They need to make sure Cressida is well-attended, after all!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Cressida's pregnancy, among other things, served to remind her how cherished her husband Owain was by his friends. Of course, Owain was the kind of person who would be loved regardless of situation he were in (back in Nohr, despite his outward weirdness, he was always surrounded by someone with a bright smile), but being able to witness how much his future past companions cared about him made Cressida's heart settle in comfortably with the passing of months.

They showed their appreciation with letters, presents and visits, always conveying their heartfelt feelings towards their friend and his growing family: Some were still amazed at how they all actually managed to have a peaceful future for themselves after a life of fighting, while others enjoyed every single moment and looked forward to meeting the mini-Owain that was on the way.

The word of Cressida's pregnancy spread around like wildfire, and both she, Owain and Frederick knew that it was Lissa's doing -- the princess was never a good secret keeper, after all. Soon even the future past children who lived away from Ylisse had heard the news.

The first ones to visit were, of course, his cousins Morgan and Lucina, as well as the most frequent.

"I came to play again!" Morgan would announce as he saw himself in, comfortable enough to barely knock before entering. "I brought a charm for the baby!"

"Morgan, please; it doesn't matter if he's family or no, we need to actually wait any of them to welcome us instead of barging in-" Lucina reprimanded, pulling her little brother's ear.

"Owowow, Sis! But it's Owain's house! Fellow Justice Cabal member and- owowow!"

"Who has a wife and a soon-to-be-born child, Morgan. Wait for when one of them opens the door, all right?" The princess twisted her lips, lifting her chin.

"Please, Lady Lucina, it's alright." Cressida welcomed them after washing her hands from tending to the back garden. "You two are Owain's family, after all. You'll always be welcome."

"See? See?!" Morgan beamed, disentangling himself from his sister's grip. Lucina once again grabbed him by the ear, though.

"Please don't indulge this behavior, Lady Cressida, or else he will not learn..."

"Siiiisss..." Morgan pouted, leaning his head on Lucina's shoulder. The princess cleared her throat, always unable to say no to his puppy eyes.

"D-don't look at me like that, Morgan. No is no."

The young prince only blinked adorably, making Lucina avert her eyes as her conviction wavered.

Cressida chuckled at the exchange, always amazed at how well the two of them got along as siblings and as cousins to Owain. Despite all those years they spent away from each other, their bonds never wavered, as though something as fickle as time couldn't even scratch the depth of the ties that bound all of them.

"You said you brought a 'charm', but that's quite a bag you're holding there, Sir Morgan." Cressida said, putting the table for the tea. She had witnessed that same exchange happen at least every other day, so she quickly got used to it.

"Oh, allow me to help." Lucina let go of Morgan's ear and stepped inside to fetch the plates and cutlery. They had arrived a little bit before lunch time, and they knew Owain would eat at home instead of the barracks.

Morgan looked at the bag he carried and shrugged. "Well, uncle Frederick asked us to bring another thing he sewed -- you won't believe how intricate the design is! I bet he could make a name for himself in the sewing world if he weren't a knight."

Cressida froze on her step, an eyebrow twitching in response.

After the initial shock of surprise and happiness from finding out that he would be a grandpa, Frederick showed up at their doorstep at dawn the next day with a hand-knitted winter set for a newborn baby. It had little gloves and socks and everything; it was the picture of adorableness.

It actually made the bow knight tear up a bit, feeling that her pregnancy was something real and that she was going to meet her and Owain's child in the near future.

Once again she felt like that the next morning as Frederick brought yet another set in different colors, the little baby’s cap graved with the words 'the best grandchild in the world'. She would stare at it and laugh for the weeks to come, but it kept happening.

Every single day since Cressida announced that she was pregnant did Sir Frederick give them something he sewed himself. "He's gonna put the local seamstress out of business," she joked one time, two months after his first present. "... How much yarn is he gonna use? I'm sure he bought everything in Ylisse by now," she sighed deeply after the fourth month, wondering where she's gonna keep so many presents.

Frederick wasn't dumb -- he knew that the clothes of a child, of a baby, no less, wouldn't have a great lifespan. Children grew up quickly, after all. After the first dozens of sets for newborns, Frederick began knitting clothes of varying sizes, so Owain's child would never want for clothes as they grew up.

Cressida felt a droplet of cold sweat itching down her temple, Morgan's words echoing through her mind.

"Lady Cressida?" Lucina tilted her head to the side, taking the plates the bow knight carried. "Are you feeling well? You look pale!"

"Oh wow, it's true!" Morgan put the bag over the couch and trotted to his cousin-in-law, taking her by the hand. "C'mon, let's sit here for a bit, you much be so tired!"

The prince guided her to the very same couch the bag was at, making Cressida's eyes spin. It was as though a swirling energy was emanating from the bag, almost bringing her physical pain.

Frederick didn't simply give them one piece of clothing every day, but a SET of clothing every single morning. Sweaters, socks, belly-warmers, gloves, bonnets, pants... take your pick.

Owain and Cressida's house was a simple one; they didn't have many rooms nor did they have space at the back garden to build an extension, and Frederick's growing pile of presents was already starting to take room they didn't have.

It didn't fit in the baby's closet anymore. Nor did it in their closet. There were baby clothes even inside Owain's herb cabinet! He needed to juggle between his potion-making tools, herbs and a little baby sock that randomly found its way in there.

They sometimes found little wool shorts and tiny gloves at the weirdest places. "I found this little belly warmer under the sink... and this single sock outside at the garden. How did they end up there?" She asked Owain one day, to which he replied that they must've been cursed by the Wool Spirit.

His Father had looked in god's eyes and decided to ignore the plea of thousands of seamstresses who were most likely out of a job by now. Nothing Lissa, Owain or even Chrom said could stop him at this point, and by now Cressida was resigned in accepting everything.

Gulping, the bow knight looked at the bag, its dark energy making her stomach turn. That single thought made her shoulder sag, however. Look at me, she thought, I'm even seeing 'dark energy' in a harmless bag. Maybe Owain's finally rubbing off on me.

"Behold, for this Owain Dark has arrived!" As if on a cue, Owain yelled from outside, skipping through the front stepping stones towards the open front door. "Oh? What manner of evil doers dare to step inside my shrine of redempti- GASP!!" He threw his hands in the air in an extravagant gesture as Morgan dramatically took one hand to his face. "We meet yet again, my mortal allyversary!"

"This time, I shan't lose!" Morgan pointed. "Once our eyes meet, it's time for battle!"

"Stop making a ruckus in other people's house." Lucina bonked her brother on the head, once again pulling him by the ear. "I'm delighted to see that you are well, cousin."

"Our epic battle, interrupted by she who bears the Light Brand!" Owain got on his knees. "Whenever shall we have our bloodthirsty showdown, O fellow Fallen One?"

Morgan massaged his head with both hands, but still managed to laugh. "The conclusion to our thrilling saga... will need to wait for... another day." He paused dramatically, looking at the horizon through the small window, the draft that followed only enough to lift a few strands of hair.

"Oh, look, Owain, Sir Frederick brought another sweater." Cressida's voice filled the theatrical silence as she took the small garment, sized for a child of age 10, out of the bag. "Delightful."

That brought actual shivers down Owain's spine. "H-haha... Father is at it again, I see."

"He never misses a day." Cressida's voice didn't have any strength in it. "It's been five months." She sighed, then shook her head as she put the sweater back inside the bag. "What was that charm you said you brought, Sir Morgan?"

"Hm? Oh yeah! It's actually here with me, haha!" He ran his hands through his pockets, finding a little round bell on a string. "Mother said that this is really good to catch the baby's attention when they're overwhelmed with all the new things around them!"

"Oh, I... actually remember that." Lucina mused as she gazed softly at the bell, her hand still on her brother's ear.

"Eh? Really? She used it on you, Sis?" Morgan gasped, handing the bell to Cressida. Lucina snorted.

"Of course not, silly. She used it on YOU. Sometimes I would catch her jiggling a bell akin to this one over your crib when I was young. Sometimes I thought that she thought you were a cat..."

"Hah, I'm sure I'll need this, then." Cressida took the little bell to her chest, smiling softly despite feeling the dark energy coming from the sweater right beside her. "If she's anything like her father, I know I'll need to distract her with something."

"She?" Lucina and Morgan tilted their heads to the side. "Did you ask someone to see the baby's gender?"

"Oh, excuse me." Cressida covered her mouth, embarrassed. "I just... feel like it's gonna be a girl. Don't mind me, now."

Used to how his wife referred to their child as 'she', Owain helped her up. "If Mighty Cressida, she who bears the chosen one, savior of this land, says our Messiah will be a girl, who are we to argue? We can only bask in her knowledge!"

"That's true." Lucina bobbed her head in agreement, followed by Morgan.

Embarrassed by how well they took that, Cressida snorted. What a close family she ended up being part of!

The visits weren't limited to Owain's own blood relatives, either. The companions with whom he shared the adventures in Nohr and Valla would also drop by time and again.

One day, Inigo and Severa met on their way to visit, their spouses in tow.

"Ho? Finally being honest with your feelings, Severa? Owain IS our oldest friend, after all-" Inigo poked at the front door, a wide smirk on his lips.

"Humph." The mercenary turned her head to the side so fast her pigtails slapped Inigo on the face. "I came here because I'm worried about Cressida, is all. I know what she's going through, after all." She glanced at her husband, who carried their little baby, Caeldori, strapped on his back.

Subaki laughed after being shown in. "She was worried sick back at home. Saying that she'll need to teach Owain how to hold a baby because she worried he would drop his and such."

"H-hey- Subaki!" Severa hissed, stomping on her husband's foot, her face bright red.

Already expecting that, Subaki swiftly took his foot out of the way, making Severa stomp on the floor instead.

"Huh? What's so bad about being worried for your friend? Weird." Hana blurted out, quickly turning to Cressida. "Hah, I win! My belly's bigger than yours." She stuck out her seven months stomach, a proud smile by her lips.

"This is not a competition, love..." Inigo coughed, guiding her to the couch.

"What? Anything can be a competition if you put your heart to it!"

"Well, I can't argue with that." Severa nodded, still trying hard to step on Subaki's foot.

Snorting, Cressida started putting the table for the visitors.

"Hey, c'mon, we don't need these pleasantries." Finally managing to dig her foot on her husband's, Severa quickly ran to Cressida, taking the plates away from her. "You must be so tired every day, having to deal with Owain and stuff."

"Yeah, she tends to the garden while I'm not home- hey!" Owain took his wife by the hand to guide her to the couch, taking a while to understand Severa's poke at him.

Smirking, Severa knew her way around the house due to her frequent visits, and quickly put water to boil so as to serve tea. "What? It's the truth."

Before Owain could open his mouth to retort, a loud voice coming from outside cut him off.

"Cynthia, presenting herself!"

"Uwooooh! A fellow Justice Cabal member!!" Owain jumped out of his seat, running to the door. "T'was Fate that brought you here, Legendary Pegasus Knight, Cynthia!"

"Weh? It was actually my pegasus, but okay- Where can I put her? I don't wanna ruin your garden..."

"Oh, you can circle around the gate and tie her on that tree over there, see? Wait, that's not it! Cynthia! Long time no see!" He opened his arms.

"Just a second!" She ran to tie her pegasus on the aforementioned tree and quickly came back to double high-five her childhood friend. "Surprise! I came crashing down from the very heavens to bless your heroic child! Where's the bride?!"

Wondering what the ruckus was outside, Cressida stuck her head out of the window that was right behind the couch. "Oh? Is that the famous Cynthia the Hero?"

Immediately did the pegasus knight's eyes sparkle. "Is she the one? She has good taste!" She quickly ran inside, her pigtails bouncing on either side of her head. "Nice to meet you, I'm the Heroic Hero, Cynthia! At your service!" She bowed. "I actually met Owain once or twice back at the castle, but I never managed to take a day off to see you! Sorry it took me so long to!"

"Ugh," Severa rolled her eyes. "I won't need to add a cup for her, right? We already have one kid here and mine's a WELL-BEHAVED one."

"Oh? So you allow snakes in your house now, Owain? I'm very experienced in hunting them, you know?" Cynthia narrowed her eyes to Severa, never letting go of Cressida's hands.

"Hah, snake? Look who's talking! You're still wearing pigtails at your age!"

"You're older than me and your pigtails are LONGER!"

"Mine are fashionable, unlike anything you've ever heard before, I'm sure."

"Hey, are they always like this?" Hana elbowed her husband, amused at the bickering. Cressida wondered the same thing, quietly wishing that Cynthia could let go of her hand while they argued.

"Haha... pretty much." Inigo scratched the back of his head. "But they're good friends at heart, you know."

"Very, very deeply." Subaki added, holding little Caeldori on his arms.

"Hey, we're not friends!" Severa snapped.

"Yeah, don't lump me with this bag of unhappiness and- Oh my GOSH, IS THAT YOUR DAUGHTER? She's SO cute!"

"Bag of unhap- uh, yeah, she is-"

Cynthia quickly let go of Cressida and ran to the little baby who cooed and giggled at sound of her mother's voice. "Sooo cute! Peek-a-boo!" The pegasus knight poked the small puffy cheeks, "so unlike your Mommy, aren't you? Aren't youu?"

"Hey!"

"Hah, what a great display of camaraderie!" Owain laughed from the door, with both hands on his hips. Cressida raised one eyebrow in question, but kept her mouth shut.

She wondered if they would ever be able to have that tea.

They all ended up extending their visits to the last minute possible, though Severa and Subaki were the first ones to leave due to needing to tend to Caeldori. As always, they left a small present: a tiny feather hairpin much like the one Cordelia always uses, as well as the one Severa planned to give to her daughter once she grew out her hair.

Cynthia had brought a wooden rocking pegasus, always eager to recruit more girls to her Pegasus Knights. Hana and Inigo brought food they got as a gift after his latest performance at Olivia's stage.

"Haha, old companions are the best!" Still giddy, Owain did the dishes as Cressida lied down, exhausted.

The bow knight smiled, always happy to see how overjoyed her husband was whenever they had a visit. "I'm glad we came here." She said softly, not actually intending for him to hear it.

But he did. And he blushed as an embarrassed smile covered his face. "I can't thank you enough for agreeing to come with me, Mighty Cressida. We'll make this land our daughter's home, but we'll always remind her from whence her mother came from."

"Hmm... I don't mind it either way; it's not like I have many things I miss from Nohr, anyway." She shrugged. "Apart from some foods and sweets... Ah, crap, now I have a craving."

"Oh no!" Owain turned dramatically, spilling water everywhere. "My daughter's gonna be born with a nohrian sweet face!"

It was said that if the pregnant woman didn't eat whatever she was craving for, her child's head would be the shape of the food, regardless of what it was.

Chuckling, Cressida caressed her stomach. "Meh, I'll live. I don't know how to make it, anyway."

Owain looked to the ceiling, as though asking for divine intervention. "It is time... to call the cavalry." He said solemnly, closing his eyes.

Alarmed at his tone, Cressida opened her eyes. "Huh? Owain- what are you planning? Please don't tell me you're gonna hire another dubious-looking cook."

"Hey, that was one time! And he didn't look dubious, he was ragged by war and had three battle scars here-" He pointed to his arm, water dripping out of it.

"Before or after he tried to sack the house? I had to beat him up with a broom! Sir Frederick lectured us for two weeks after that."

Owain deflated, the mention of his father making him put his feet on the ground once more. "Hah, yeah, he was really mad, huh?"

"So, no more dubious-looking people, alright?"

"Fear not, Mighty Cressida, for I have only the purest people in mind! You shall see, mwhahaha!!"

"I'm getting worried..." She whispered to herself, "you are too, aren't you? Please tell Daddy that he's gotta talk to Mommy before inviting people over."

"H-hey, that's foul play-"

"She says you need to ask for her permission, too." Cressida said with a straight face, making Owain crumple on the floor out of cuteness.

"D-daddy will be good, he promises..." He lied down, covering his face. Just imagining both Cressida and their daughter ganging up on him made him feel overjoyed! DOUBLE the cuteness!

Nevertheless, Owain still wrote for two dear friends the next day, receiving their reply on the following morning. "Worry not, for your cravings shall be attended to, my love!" He beamed after reading the letter.

"So much mystery doesn't beckon you, dear. What is this all about?"

"Mwhaha... do you want to know? Do you truly, really, want to know?!" He smirked widely, wiggling his eyebrows.

Cressida turned an unamused gaze away from her husband. "Actually, nevermind."

"W-waiit!" Laughing, he took her hand. "Mighty Cressida wounds me again! But fear not, for this letter is open for you to read!" He pulled her to him, mindful of her stomach, sliding one hand behind her back.

She took the letter with a smile, but folded it and put it on his chest pocket. "It's okay, I'll wait for the surprise my husband so carefully prepared for me."

"I am unworthy of such love and trust!" He nudged her cheek, placing small kisses around her face towards her lips. They lingered on each other, simply enjoying their warm breathing, at peace with their life.

Their daughter was more than halfway there, and they couldn't wait to meet her!

Three days later, they were visited by the people Owain had called for previously: Noire and Brady.

"Behold, for they are the most astounding cooks you shall ever gaze upon!" He extended both hands to the duo, making Noire blush and hide behind the priest.

"I-I just like baking, is all. I'm so glad you called me, Owain! I can't wait to hear your poems again..."

"Ey, musclehead, take the bags inside already; there're fruits in there and they'll spoil if you keep 'em in the sun for too long." Unfazed by his friends loud behaviour, Brady pointed with his chin to the carriage him and Noire used to get there. There were dozens of ingredients there, alongside a few luggages. "We be stayin' for a few days, if that ain't much a problem."

"Dubious-looking cook..." Cressida blurted out, but quickly cleared her throat. "Uh, nice to meet you two, I'm Cressida, Owain's wife."

Brady choked. "Ey, tha's not a nice t-thing to say! I ain't the finest lookin' tool in the shed, but I ain't d-dubious..." He sniffled.

"Wait, are you crying ALREADY?" Owain came back from putting the fruits in the kitchen, "that's a new record, Brady of the Moistened Eyes!"

"P-please don't cry, Brady..." Noire patted his back, worried.

"I ain't crying, ya buncha doofus! It's just the smell of herbs' too strong 'round here. Let's haul ass inside already."

Cressida had heard about the mean-looking priest, but Owain never told her about his... tendency to tear up at any given moment. Later that evening, he said that he had 'vowed' not to say anything, though.

Still, the dichotomy between Brady's scowl, his behavior and the fancy-looking carriage that brought them there made Cressida wonder about his background. He wasn't a prince, that's for sure, since he wasn't at the castle... But was he a noble? That carriage had a crest and everything...

"Owain told us that you've been wanting to eat something from your homeland, Cressida." Noire started after everyone went back inside. "Oh, I'm Noire, by the way! I-I'm sorry for my manners..."

"It's okay, Noire. And that's right, but he really didn't need to call you guys all the way here for a silly craving... I don't even know how to make the sweets, anyway."

"Bulshit!" Brady started washing the fruits and vegetables. He was called there to make healthy and salty food, while Noire was in charge of the desserts and sweets. "A pregnant lady's wishes are final." He shuddered, remembering how even more bossy and prickly his mother, Maribelle, was during her pregnancy of this era's Brady.

"That's right," Noire concurred, remembering her own Mother and her mood swings. "Besides, you don't n-need to know how it was made; just tell me the general ingredients and I can try to recreate it!"

Smiling softly, Cressida sat back on the chair. "Well, if you insist, then by all means..."

Truly, she was blessed to be surrounded by thoughtful and loving people, so far away from home.

Though the taste of home came back on Noire's second try at the dessert. "You're REALLY good at this, Noire! You should open a bakery or something." Cressida mused, finally having her craving satisfied.

"By the beard of Ike! This is exactly like that sweet! You are a genius, Noire!" Owain snarfed down his portion with gusto, throwing a 'poem' in, as Noire liked to say.

The archer giggled shyly, hiding her face behind a table cloth. "Really? I'm glad you both like it so much. I just l-like baking, so I'm not sure about making it a business... Besides, I'm probably not suited to deal with customers." Her voice sounded somber, and Owain and Brady both felt a chill in the air.

Ah, yes.

Yeah, she's better off far from people who can stress her, after all. They nodded silently, taking the conversation in another turn.

The two of them stayed over at the guest room for about a week, and only left after writing down the recipes and where to find the best ingredients for them. "I-if you need me to bake something again, just send a bird! I'm always glad to help."

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart!" Owain bowed to the both of them as they left in yet another fancy carriage, making Cressida once again wonder about Brady's background.

"You have such good friends." She mused, holding his hand as they watched the carriage go.

"I do, don't I? I'm unworthy of them." He breathed out with a wide smile. "I'm glad I never gave up back then; I'm glad I fought until the end to fulfill my promise with Anankos... I'm glad to have gone there to meet you and come back here to show everyone the amazing wife I got in another world."

Cressida closed her eyes, her cheeks flushing slightly. "And to introduce her to the amazing companions you shared most of your life with."

"But of course! Now, what would milady want for dinner? We do have so many possibilities, after all!"

"Oh? Have you become such an accomplished cook in only three days?"

"You wound me, milady! I am the genius Dark Cook, Owain! Ask away and you shall receive!"

"Hah! Alright then, roll up your sleeves..."

Their days went by peacefully for the most part; though of course things would get rowdy whenever they got visitors (or another of Frederick's sweaters). Despite all that, Cressida's pregnancy progressed normally; and the bigger her belly became, the more nervous she and Owain -- especially Owain -- felt.

At that point, Lucina and Morgan visited almost daily, partly because they were worried about the both of them being on their own during the birthing, partly because Lissa compelled them to. Of course, Lissa herself visited and sometimes stayed the night, but she unfortunately couldn't be there every day. And that's what nephews and nieces are for, right?

During one such visits, Cressida started feeling unwell after getting up to put the tray back in the kitchen.

"I-is it coming?!" Morgan caught the tray before it fell on the floor as Lucina attended to Cressida, giving her space to breathe.

"I-I'm not sure? Maybe? O-ouch," she turned uncomfortably as Lucina carried her to the bed. "Yeah, definitely coming."

"Morgan, go call Owain, quickly! Tell him to bring the midwife with him. After you come back, I'll go to the palace to tell Aunt Lissa-"

"P-please, anything but that." Cressida held Lucina's hand as Morgan quickly ran out. "Can you just... stay here with me? Not saying anything? Owain and Morgan are gonna be loud enough."

Understanding falling into the princess' mind, Lucina's shoulders sagged as she intertwined her fingers with Cressida's. "Of course. Forgive me for not thinking of that. I'll stay for as long as you allow me."

"Thanks, Lucina, ouch." Cressida breathed out, strangely calm about it all. Maybe she would start freaking out once Owain arrived.

"Do you need anything? I'm a very good masseuse, you know."

"My back hurts a bit, so I might take you on that later, but for now I guess I need to, hufff... Breathe."

"Do you remember the exercises the midwife taught you? I witnessed some of the classes during Mother's second pregnancy, so I might be of use..."

"Yeah, I'm gonna need them, right abouuut... now." She huffed, hearing loud stomps coming from outside.

"CRESSIDA!" Owain banged the door open, huffing. He was carrying the midwife on his arms.

"Put me down now, dearie. There, thank you." The old lady said, patting her dress. "What a eager father he is, hm, Cressida? He snatched me from my home yelling 'BABY! MY BABY! COMING!' without so much of an explanation."

Cressida loudly snorted, covering her mouth so as not to laugh. "I can, uh, see that- ouch, haha!"

"A-are you alright?!" Owain ran to his wife's side as Lucina gave her seat to him. He held her hand, but was quickly thrown out of the chair by the midwife.

"She's fine, dearie. She's not even pale yet! I'll still need to fetch everything from home and call my assistants, if you excuse me..."

"P-please allow me to bring them all over. Stay here with her." He stuttered, dreading the thought of having Cressida be unattended for a single second.

"Oh, well, if you insist, dearie." The midwife sat back down, telling him to find her assistants first so they could bring everything they needed. "Also, you young man over there? Please boil some water, hm? You young lady can bring fresh towels."

Soon the royals scattered to do their assigned chores, the small house getting livelier by the second. As the midwife had said previously, the baby wasn't in much of a hurry to be born. It took Cressida a dozen of hours to finally be able to give birth to a healthy and loud little girl.

"It's really a girl! IT'S A GIRL!" Owain yelled louder than the baby's cries, his own tears falling unnoticed.

Breathing out, exhausted, Cressida looked at the tiny baby with fondness. "Finally we meet, Ophelia."

From outside the room, Lucina and Morgan heard the crying and exchanged a hug, their faces flushed and wet from tears. Every new birth was a new story beginning in a land now and forever blessed by peace! They couldn't wait to meet their little niece!

[otomouk]

Using DIY & Wall Art To Add a Personal Touch to a Nursery

Decorating a nursery can be equal parts exciting and stressful, but you should also take this opportunity to let your creative side run free. Whilst there are a lot of fantastic products available to adorn your baby’s nursery with, sometimes it’s better to make something from the heart. Buying most of the décor for your baby’s nursery is not a problem, however, if the interior is comprised entirely of store-bought items it can sometimes lack a warm and homely touch. Therefore, it’s always worth trying your hand at a few beautiful yet simple DIY decoration pieces, because you never know, you may just produce something you cherish for many years down the line, and not just when your baby is well…a baby! Homemade items are also sentimental declarations of love towards your little one. Of course, if you are the one who is currently expecting, get a helping hand for the more stressful or physically demanding tasks from those around you, after all, the more the merrier, and the more personal the nursery decor will be. DIY décor clearly shows that it is not necessary to have to splash a lot of cash to produce something beautiful and endearing, so what are you waiting for? Dig in!

Family, Friends and Frames

DIY doesn’t need to only be about parent and child, be sure to involve other people in the baby’s life whom also feel much love for it! Use baby shower and celebration cards from friends and family and turn them into décor pieces – what’s more, you can get them involved in the making of the decorations too! It’s a great way to add vibrancy and charm to the nursery without doing too much of the work yourself! Set up an arts and crafts chain with plenty of stationary, buttons, sequins and other trinkets. Ask your loved ones to make a card or use the one they brought, and give them free range to jazz it up! Once they are done, use cheap frames to finish their mini masterpieces off, and then they are done and ready to hang up as a sentimental touch to the nursery. Speaking of framing, a quirky idea is to frame old baby clothes from previous young ones, which you aren’t going to be using anymore. It’s a great way to recycle something that may have ended up being thrown out. They make quaint little decorations and rather obviously they suit the nursery theme awfully well!

You could also frame pages from books, particularly charming and timeless children’s book, as an ode to the literature you grew up with and your baby might too! You don’t need to only look online, you can find gorgeous antique books in local stores and maybe even ask family and friends if they have books which are no longer being used, as a cheaper alternative. You could even model the theme of your interior on the book/s you choose. Consider the likes of Roald Dahl and Dr Seuss for your little one.

Perfecting Paint

Here is yet another simple DIY: all you really need is a bucket of paint and a bunch of willing hands! Get your family or other close relations to leave their mark – quite literally – on the nursery’s walls, by leaving an imprint of their hand (or foot, if they’re feeling silly!). This is a remarkably easy way to add a homely touch to the walls and make it that much more comfortable and inviting! It’s also great for looking back at over the years, as you reminisce about how fast the children have grown!

This next DIY is perhaps the most elaborate and challenging, but it’s also the most rewarding! The idea is to paint a mural on your baby’s wall, and it could be of pretty much anything that is in keeping with the vibe of the nursery – which is usually soothing and relaxing. You don’t just need to use paintbrushes, experiment with sponges, clothes, toys and other equipment to make a quirky variety of shapes and add real interest to your walls.

Homely Hangings

For something a little more sophisticated and adult, hang aged materials like paper from clips, similar to how you would hang clothe on a washing line. You can hang cards from loved ones, songs, photos of important people and places, or just pretty and relaxing images that complement the vibe of your nursery. This is an affordable and gorgeous way to add some interest to plain nursery walls.

To bag some extra storage, hang a hamper on one of your nursery walls for quick and simple tidying and reorganization. It’s a great way to rescue back some of that prized floor space, by making sure that anything that has a possibility of being on the wall, is indeed on the wall.

Pegboards are similarly great for you to hang up little but important items and then grab and go as you please. They are easy and organized, laying out everything important in front of you so you don’t have to go searching for it, especially if it’s an emergency. Although it’s often associated with tools and industrial equipment, if you dress it and personalize it, it will fit right into your baby’s nursery. This is a particularly great storage alternative for renters who may not want to make too many alterations to the wall, as it reduces the amounts of holes made.

You can even use any doors in the room to your benefit! Hang bags and hampers from door knobs for yet another easy to way to pick and drop pesky little toys and other trinkets as soon as you see them, rather than letting them pile up and become a trip hazard for you or for little ones.

Sneaky Storage

Floating shelves are an absolutely brilliant way to store and display items at the same time. It’s another great way to keep as much clutter off the floor as possible. You can use these shelves to put up homely frames and photos, whilst still putting away creams and clothes so that they are easy to grab as and when needed.

If there is a reasonable amount of space, adding another shelf or rail to a cupboard is a great of fitting some more diapers or wipes in case of emergency. It’s a foolproof way of increasing storage without decreasing space!

If you have hooks on your doors or on the wall where you hang clothes, you could even consider putting a string between the hooks with little pegs. This is a quick way of getting some more space to hang up clothes so that they aren’t just thrown on a chair in the corner!

Cute Creations

Picking your baby’s name can often be a long and difficult decision, however, there’s no better feeling than when you finally stumble across the perfect name! Once you have overcome that process, use this nifty DIY to display their name loud and proud in their nursery! Cut the letters for the name or maybe even the message out of a sturdy material like cardboard, taking care to ensure that the edges are neat and tidy for a professional look. Use PVA glue or another form of glue to stick thread or yarn to your letter, spinning it around the back and front and making sure it is stuck on tightly. After that, you can bedazzle your letters however you wish! If you aren’t too keen on yarn, go for other fabrics like silk or wool, whatever takes your fancy! Maybe even consult your baby…If you have any leftover fabric, you can incorporate it somewhere else in the interior, such as by framing it.

You can even buy some cheap but robust hoops and glue fabrics to them to dress them up with some bright patterns and colours. Then hang these hoops up on pegs or hooks for a unique style of décor. Make sure the fabric is pulled tightly about the hoop, any crinkles or creases will negatively impact the look.

Another artsy idea for a nursery decoration would be DIY silhouettes. These silhouettes can be any shape you wish, maybe the image of something you like or personal to you, like a certain animal or a family member or even your favourite food! All you need to do is draw or cut out a template, then place it atop some card and cut the card around the template, or trace the template around the card – whichever is easier for you. You can even put a backing to your silhouette and frame it for a finished, clean and professional look. Equally, you could use Blu Tack to stick them to the walls, which gives you the freedom to regularly change their positioning if you wish.

These were some beginner and some more complex DIY ideas for when it comes to decorating your baby’s nursery. Do your best to get loved ones involved so that all the important people in the baby’s life can leave their mark on the nursery. There are thousands upon thousands of more DIY décor ideas for your nursery online. All you need is some time, some money, and maybe a little bit of spare change. If you’re really resourceful, you may only need items that are already in your home! Go search in nooks, crannies and attics to find items that no longer serve any particular purpose, and breathe new life to them. Happy decorating!

    from Otomo - Blog https://www.otomo.co.uk/blogs/news/using-diy-wall-art-to-add-a-personal-touch-to-a-nursery