grieving for the living @ameliaharfield - Tumblr Blog

Name: Amelia Harfield Nickname/Goes by: Molly Age: 48 Pronouns: she/her Species: Witch Faction: Shifter Occupation: Seamstress at Figheadair Tailoring Hometown: Eden Ros Sexuality: pan Relationship Status: very recently divorced after 28 years married pinterest | playlist

#chrp.intro #more bio to come!#promise to be dazzling * the face #secret gardens in my mind * musings #our maladies were such we could not cure them * the divorce #cards on the table mine play out like fools in a fable * bio

errantesadas

Even with the woman's reassurances, Metzli's posture remained the same. They knew their disturbance was okay, but now there was a new discomfort to handle. A social interaction with a total stranger.

"Not a good eye." They took a deep breath, scratching their sideburn idly before gesturing awkwardly at the fabric. "Just a good touch. The...thread density is ideal."

Metzli didn't deal with fabric outside of wearing it, but it did take extensive research to find the right materials they could wear comfortably for a work day. And that fabric in particular would be something they could imagine wearing. The weight and texture of it would be pleasant and calming. Anything lighter would brush against their skin too lightly.

"Do you enjoy fabric?" Stupid question. Their social inexperience was surely evident.

ameliaharfield

Molly watched as their hand came to their sideburn. The words that followed caught her off guard. Thread density was an awfully specific term for someone to casually know. "Thread density?" She questioned with a quirk of her brow. Her own hand brought her cup of coffee to her lips and she sipped. Her gaze didn't waver.

"Most people are just aware of the thread count." She said it matter-of-factly because it was true, and then she couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm impressed." And the fabric at hand did have appear to have a nice density. It might be the sort of fabric one would wear on a day like today - something breathable, leaving you feeling covered but not smothered by the fabric.

Then Molly nodded. "I do enjoy fabrics, actually." She'd never been asked that question before, but she liked it. "No one's ever asked me that before. It's always, 'oh do you like clothes?' or 'do you like to sew?' It's never about the fabric. And I swear there are projects that I've abandoned because I didn't care much for the fabric. And that's not really fair to the fabric. Not that I think that fabric has feelings or anything." What the hell was that, Molly? she thought to herself. She was sure she could feel a blush blooming across her cheeks in embarrassment from her rambling. So she sighed and shook her head. "Do you like fabric?"

#threads * metzli #metzli 01 #writing letters addressed to the fire * threads

finlaylevenson

who: open! where: lone wolf detective agency when: early june, pre-solstice jubilee (your choice of morning or evening hours!)

Consulting hours were one of the more challenging parts of the job. As a one-man operation, he had to balance getting actual work done with being open to more potential work. A good number of clients opted for scheduling a time with him; but he still had enough walk-in business for it to be worth constraining himself to his office.

At least there was always paperwork to be done in the meantime - he needed something to keep him occupied. Answering emails, running online searches, handling business paperwork... it all needed done, and this devoted office time gave him a set time every week to chip away at it. Not quite the excitement that people imagined from P.I. work, but equally important to the more thrilling bits.

He stood up and walked over to the small hot-drinks table. He kept a coffee maker and an electric kettle around, both for his own benefit & for the comfort of his customers. He filled the reservoir and scooped some grounds into a fresh filter, then turned the machine on. It growled to life and began heating the water. Slowly, water began to filter through & drip coffee into the pot below.

Just as he grabbed a mug from the shelf under the table, he heard the door open. "Welcome to Lone Wolf Detective Agency," he said, turning his head to catch a glance at the visitor. "Feel free to take a seat across from the desk, I'll be with you in just a moment."

ameliaharfield

To say that Molly buried herself into her work since moving back home to Eden Ros would've been an understatement, and sometimes she was quite literally buried in the fabric. It was where she felt the best, she figured. It certainly made her happy and she'd take any scrap of that emotion she could get these days. The rain cloud inside of her brain was an ever-present menace.

The day to day tasks and projects kept her going but what Molly really had a soft spot for were little projects she managed to do on a whim. Recently a friend of her mother's had come in with a quilting project and had left some scrap fabric for the taking. Molly found a piece with greens, and bright pink and red zinnias. It was much too bright of a piece for anything for herself, but she knew exactly the person who would love it.

Later that afternoon she set off to deliver her gift, folded neatly and wrapped in a thin piece of yellow tissue paper with a carefully crafted light pink ribbon tied around it. "Hello!" Molly called softly to announce her arrival. When she heard Finlay's voice call back in greeting, she smiled and made her way to the chair across from his desk, making herself at home. Which was a nice feeling compared to how mortified she felt the morning after their first meeting months ago.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." Molly was pretty sure she'd remembered the time frame for walk-in appointments correctly, though she didn't need anything from Finlay - maybe with the exception of a cup of the coffee he was brewing. "I'm here on a more personal matter. A delivery, if you will."

#threads * finlay #finlay 01 #writing letters addressed to the fire * threads

the-shield-and-sword

Thalorien was no tailor but it wouldn’t be the first time he had brought fabrics to tailors for the lining of a jacket or two. The eye patch he’d been wearing most days was on its last legs to put it kindly. And while he was looking for the right material for it but also the right craftsmanship. He was a representative of the Dawn court he couldn’t be anything less than perfectly presented.

“Looks like it back in fashion, this might not be the weather for it if you plan on getting it.” Thalorien wasn’t going to let a friendly individual feel foolish. Call it chivalry if you will but he’d make chatter. “Though I think a different colour may suit you better.”

ameliaharfield

Molly couldn't help but chuckle at Thalorien's suggestion. "It is a little too bright for me, isn't it?" It was true that Molly preferred earthy and deep jewel tones for herself. "Louder" patterns weren't really her thing, but her mother loved them and wore them well. They really suited her and Molly loved them for it.

She turned to face Thalorien to properly greet him. She didn't know him well, only from a brief interaction or two at the tailors shop, but she figured he'd known her mother seeing as he knew where to bring clothing or fabric for a piece. There were a lot of people that Molly vaguely recognized but she couldn't tell if she actually knew them from her childhood in Eden Ros, or if her mind was playing tricks to make her think she knew everyone simply because Gale had.

"I'm surprised to see you out without the regal garb today." She'd only meant to tease him and hope he caught on through her tone. Plus, she wasn't one to talk as she was out in public somewhere other than the shop for the first time in months. "How are you?"

#threads * thalorien #thalorien 01 #event * jubilee #writing letters addressed to the fire * threads

errantesadas

After checking in on a few of the students who'd taken the plunge and set up a tent, Metzli took to admiring other vendors. There were a few things that caught their eye, and many others that engulfed their sense of smell. It was easy to get lost in it, to become captured by how a real community worked and came together for an entire event.

Back in Mexico, Metzli could recall similar occasions, on a smaller scale. A weekly market called a tianguis where you could find anything. From the bootleg movies Metzli enjoyed so much, to off brand action figures, to entire machines. Eden Ros wasn't Mexico, but it certainly had become home.

In their musing, Metzli had wandered into a stall full of colorful fabric, and as someone who enjoyed soft textures, the vampire grazed several items. They even enjoyed the stiffer items, intrigued by the rigidity of the weave. Humming to themself, Metzli went for the next item, accidentally brushing another woman's hand.

"O-oh." They took a step back, posture going as rigid as the fabric they'd just admired a moment before. "I'm...sorry."

ameliaharfield

It was only after her quiet remark that she even realized someone had appeared next to her, reaching for the same fabric. She felt what she swore was a chill, but then again it was Scotland. Despite growing up here, she was having to readjust to the weather. June was hot in New York. Here? It was unpredictable.

"Oh, really, it's okay. No need to apologize." Molly figured she was the one who needed to apologize as she had been so consumed by the material before her and the memories it surfaced that she hadn't been paying attention to the very real world around her.

She gave a shrug as the fabric slipped between her fingers and turned to face the source of the voice. Standing at a mere 5' 7", she had to tilt her neck a bit to properly see their face and she couldn't help but smile flatly as she took note of their posture. They truly thought they'd disturbed her. "I was.. off in a world of my own. No worries." She wanted to reassure them, even though she didn't really know why she wanted to do so.

"You have a good eye." She added and then nodded towards the piece of fabric. And then she kind of wanted to roll her eyes at herself for being so corny, but she couldn't help it.

#threads * metzli #metzli 01 #event * jubilee #writing letters addressed to the fire * threads

Who: open! Where/When: Summer Solstice Festival Market, just after noon

Molly had a slow morning at home - those had become one of her most sacred routines since returning to Eden Ros. The first few weeks she felt uneasy despite being able to move back to her childhood home. The space felt enormously empty without Gale. But six months later, Molly had managed to begin to create something for herself in the cottage, around all of her mother's belongings. It was nice, or a "new" kind of nice that Molly had become accustomed to. She still felt like she was living in a shell of who she had been for the last thirty years away.

Finally, after lunch she mustered up the courage to head out to the Solstice Jubilee. A bundle of nerves seemed to settle in the pit of her stomach as she walked down main drag towards the start of a row of vendors. It was odd, feeling like such a stranger in one's hometown. Molly had moments that had her second guessing her choice to return altogether, but she'd rather cease to exist than chance running into Roger back in New York. This was one of her first big outings since returning - outside of a few nights in local pubs or burying herself (sometimes literally) in her work at Figheadair. Perhaps the nerves didn't have to make sense, and maybe a warm drink would help.

After a short meander down a row Molly found a food truck serving coffee. She ordered a Cortado and continued on her way, backtracking to a few of the vendor booths she had slipped past while in search of her beverage. It was no surprise that she found herself spending more time than she realized at a booth selling textiles and woven goods. With her coffee in one hand, her free hand reached out to touch a patchwork shawl. It was soft. "My mother wore one just like this when I was a kid." She spoke to no one in particular, and truly she hadn't meant to speak the thought aloud at all. Great - now she was talking to herself, she thought.