I am just a seamstress, looking for slightly more peaceful surroundings.
| Sabine is tall and slender, with pale skin and long dark hair that she wears neatly away from her face. She has delicate features and expressive eyes, and is always dressed in very high quality meticulous clothing. |
Sabine prefers long, flowing dresses with shiny beading and embroidery; there is something very familiar about her clothing to the other residents of the Vella Crean, and of course there should be; Sabine is the head seamstress for Shy, and everyone knows Shy has very… particular tastes.
Sabine has a tendency of over dressing for events, and never, ever travels without a large suitcase that seems to always have something new for her to wear.
|Sabine is quiet, demure, and always seems to be running on too much stress. As if the world is about the end and she has a million tasks to do and not enough time to get everything done. She is a high functioning workaholic; and she has (ordinarily) enjoyed existing in a highly stressful fast paced environment. |
More recently, she has been burning out. Sabine is peaceful and peace loving- her favorite companion is Whistle the horticulturalist, and with his recent departure, she has found herself flailing at work. She does not do well with talk of war and politics, much preferring gentle and optimistic conversational points.
|Sabine is not a Project. But she is a highly gifted seamstress, and she has been around for about fifty, sixty years; she just does not seem to age.|
Something cracked, and the sound of dozens of glass beads shattering on impact pulled Sabine out of her thoughts. She stared at the floor, at the shiny glass shards, and felt – only just the slightest confusion.
This was not …good?
“Are you okay?” a gentle hand landed on her shoulder, and Sabine turned, craning her head to see Ari’s concerned features.
Sabine nodded. “My hands must have slipped.” she found her words soft, monotone, and felt a little bit more of the confusion.
She should be more upset. Dozens of glass beads imported from a Nexus planet, carefully sorted and hand sewn onto a masterpiece; she should be raging at the thoughtlessness, at the lost hours.
Yet she felt only a little bit of confusion.
Ari must have thought it was odd also, because instead of moving about and conducting her business, the Aide crouched, leaning forwards so that they were eye to eye. “How can I help you?”
Not, what’s wrong. Or. What happened. How can I help you. Sabine felt a little bit more true amusement at the gentle query. At how well articulated the aide was.
“There is supposed to be a secret Death Court clutch.” she answered quietly, looking at her hands. “Shy has found a mother dragon to send, and is making a project. Without the golden eyes.” her hands trembled. “What if the babe gets caught? What if they kill her?”
Ari reached out and clasped her hands around Sabine’s. “Shy won’t let it get to that point.” she reassured her. “His antics have never bothered you so much before.” worry coloured her tone. “Not in all the fifty years.”
It was supposed to be a gentle tease, but Sabine found her hands trembling further. “He has never been so obsessed with death before.” she answered queitly.
Ari’s hands squeezed over hers. “It bothers you?”
Sabine nodded. “Whistle did not like it either. He was concerned about the Scientist’s need to turn his gifts into weapons for war. He left. I-” she looked down at the tiny shards of glass. “I cannot turn my gifts for war, but I do not like being so near it.”
Ari rose. “You don’t have to be.” she answered shortly. “I will look for a place for you to escape. Isla? Our residences are almost finished.” she mused outloud. “Sudland, I think, will only carry the same plots, the same discussions.”
“Not one of our worlds.” Sabine’s brows drew together, her expression pained. “Somewhere else. May I go, somewhere else? Somewhere far?”
Ari smiled. “Of course. I will look into this.”
Sabine looked up from her bench, smiling in greeting at Cyan. “I have a good friend who would love your greenhouses.” she answered by way of greeting.
Her hands tremoured less, and the work that caused her stress was the amount she had grown used to.
“I’m glad, and you see to be settling in well here.” Cyan smiled, pausing a moment to untangle two vines. “When the Vella Crean asked for sanctuary, we had been concerned of the… type of individual.” Trix’ had returned with stories, and they had done their own research into the Death Court.
Sabine smiled. “I am just a seamstress, looking for slightly more peaceful surroundings.” she answered.
Cyan laughed. “And I am just a gardener.” she teased back. “Come, Sabine. Some of us are gathering to watch the eggs hatch on the sands. Why don’t you join us?”
From the Hatching
Not much later, one of the other hatchlings managed to break free. This time mostly green dragoness spilled from her egg. The spectators assumed she was just like her mother until she unfolded her wings and showed that the glimpses of golden yellow weren’t from yolk or sand. The little emerald dragoness happily flapped her citrine wings and launched herself to Sabine, the Vella Crean seamstress.
“What is stress?” the hatchling asked her with innocent eyes.
“Something I hope you’ll never know, Sakhari.” the seamstress replied, feeling oddly at peace. Or maybe that was because she would return to some measure of work after the few weeks of leisure she’d had during her wait at the isle.
“Let’s go eat and play, work can wait until later.” the dragon pushed with a musical sound of laughter sounding through Sabine’s mind.
Citrine-Emerald Sakhari (f)