agentlelog | 002 A Dream of Spring

( Sansa arches a brow at the state of Guts' tunic. She'd not realized it was in such poor condition considering he usually wears armor around her and so she realizes he's going to need a good deal more than just a cloak before all is said and done. He's left money on the table and Sansa has decided no matter what it is, she'll accept it and make whatever he needs regardless. )

It's taken a little while, yes, but mostly because I'm embroidering it. The cloak itself doesn't take so very long. You, ser, are in need of more than just a cloak, though.

[Sansa gets an arched brow back.]

...Like what?

[The question is earnest - not that Guts is not entirely unaware of how worn his stuff is - he just doesn't see a need to replace something that isn't broken.]

Edited 2019-05-11 05:49 (UTC)

Your shirt is worn as well, Guts. You'd likely serve well to have to new pair of breeches, too, if we got down to it. I'll have to get measurements for everything, though.

( Sansa gives him a once over, trying to make her best guesses at length for him. It won't be exact without measurements, yes, but she can use her eyes for just this moment. )

[He touches the fabric of his tunic, wondering if it really looked that bad. Its worn, all right, but it's not disintegrating yet. He could squeeze a few more months out of this thing.]

You sure? May be a while before I can pay you for all that.

[He didn't know much about sewing beyond the basic fieldwork any mercenary picked up on traveling on their own, but it was three garments instead of one. He could do enough math to know his stipend wasn't that generous... He still needed to tune up his other gear.]

I'm not worried about the payment, Guts. How many times have you escorted me around this city because I'm afraid of being attacked? You've never taken payment for it, not once. The least I can do is make you decent things to wear.

( On this matter, Sansa is firm, and she will brook no argument. She hates being indebted to anyone and she feels indebted to Guts a bit. )

Alright.

[With business matters, he didn't like to ask for favors unless he really needed it, but he's not going to say no if she insists. It would be nice to get something a little more comfortable.]

Where do you need me to stand?

Stand a few feet away so you have room to stretch your arms out to full length. If I'm going to measure you for sleeves, you'll need that.

( Luckily with Craft, it's easier to measure than it would be back in Westeros but Sansa still has to put in some physical effort with it. )

[Guts peruses the room before finding an empty space between some rolls of fabric, stretching his arms about a bit to be sure he didn't bump into anything. Guess it is time to be her live mannequin for a little while. He wasn't totally new to the process, at least, though Sansa will probably be more gentle about the whole matter than Godo ever was.

Ah. He misses the old man's biting comments at times like this. He's pretty sure he would have left the blacksmith pretty upset at how much he beat up all of his creations.]

( Sansa has a marvelous little device that runs on Craft called a measuring tape and she wishes such a thing existed in Westeros. Back there, she'd have used a strip of cloth or ribbon but this has markings for inches on it and actually stands up in midair without the use of her hands - leaving her free to do whatever is needful. She uses it to measure the spread of Guts' arms and then down along his torso. )

There are things here they make with Craft that are a thousand times better than anything I had at home. I'll be making you much finer things, that's for certain. Now, how many tunics will you be needing?

Just one for travel. I don't do crowds.

[He didn't go to many social gatherings, if his reaction to the Festival was any indication. In fact, he finds himself feeling his most useful not in a court, but outside the city and wandering the wilderness. Unfortunately, that didn't lend itself too well to fine clothes. Too many brambles and the like.

Guts glances back when the measuring tape touches him without warning, still not quite accustomed to all the casual uses of Craft. He knows its Sansa - but the whole slithery floating worm aspect of it took a second to adjust to.]

You need more than one. They wear out more quickly when you cannot change them out. I'll make you two and a cloak. If you need breeches, I'll make those as well.

( The measurements are easy enough to take down and she writes down the numbers on a bit of paper, tucking it into her pocket once she's gotten what she needs. )

There, those should be all the measurements. Do you have any design preferences? Do you have a sigil?

[Sigil? He doesn't even have a surname.

Although, that isn't entirely entirely true, he thinks. His eye grows thoughtful with memories of a softer time, a warmer time. He did wear the badge of a winged sword once, but it is too late for that. It'd feel wrong if he wore it now. Just drudging up old pain, like the webs did.]

.. No. Just keep it the same color as my old ones. No need to do anything fancy.

Plain isn't much of a challenge for me but sometimes you have to do what the customer wants, not what you want to do as the seamstress.

( He is like the Hound, truly, in not wanting anything ornamented. Sansa seems to surround herself with men like these. )

[A curious look crosses his face. He isn't entirely opposed to suggestions.]

You got something in mind?

Well, I just thought if there was some symbol you identified with, I could work it into the pattern of your clothing. Most men have sigils in Westeros. My house uses the direwolf, the Baratheons use a stag, the Arryns use a falcon - and so on. If there's something like that for you then I could add it.

( Sansa goes quiet for a moment, thinking, and then speaks up with an idea. )

A hound, I think. You rescued me from my memory with a hound. Do you remember?

Yeah. It ain't something you forget easily.

[Guts had a whole lot of feelings surrounding the thing that appeared in the web. He didn't even know where it came from. Still, he wasn't about to let ghosts bother him here.]

Guess a hunting hound would fit for what I was doin' before I came here.

Then it's settled, then. I'll use a hound for your sigil. I'll make it discreet - not everyone wants their things to be ornate and you don't seem that sort of man - but I will work a few things in for you. It's my gift to you for saving me and for being my friend and protector.

( Sansa may not be a Lannister but she was once one by marriage and she, too, repays her debts. She reaches out and touches his right hand. )

It is my honor.

...Alright, then.

[There's no need to be so damn dramatic about it, that's what he thinks. The gesture isn't entirely unexpected, she isn't the first princess he's met, but he's awkward as he looks at their hands touching and opts to step away. Would he call her a friend in turn? He can't deny that they now knew things about each other that no mere acquaintance did. The Widows' Webs had tied them together in that way.

Guts decides he will just accept the gift and be glad that he gets to wear something decent for the first time in years.]

Thanks.

You're very welcome. It's my honor to make something for one of my dear friends. Besides, with two tunics they won't wear as quickly.

( Sansa gives him a bit of a smile and ties off a knot in her embroidery, putting it aside for a moment. )

Would you like to have some tea with me? I can't sew all day.

002 A Dream of Spring

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject