(no subject)

[an_evening_star]

It's unusual, really, to see the star much of anywhere on her own.

But she's there all the same - curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire with her legs over the armrest and a long white jacket slung over her lap. There's a neat slice on the side of one coatsleeve and a larger hole in the shoulder - and the fine, white string she's attempting to wrangle has stubbornly wound its way down her arm and doesn't seem particularly inclined to cooperate with any amount of frustrated glaring.

She's terrible at this. (Which, truthfully, is most of the motivation for not attempting it upstairs - where certain people could wake up and see.)

She's terrible at it, but that doesn't seem to make her particularly inclined to give up. She continues on, frowning stubbornly, curses soft and mumbled against bleeding fingers and messily tended material.

Interruption would be a blessing. Unless you happen to be a very angry sewing needle offended by the sort of language your tiny, prickly child might be picking up, mind you.

Comments

[takiena_called]

Finally he pauses with the sudden self-conciousness of someone who realizes they've been talking awhile, and shrugs awkwardly.

"There's more than there is time to say, in all. I-- Are you sure you'd not like help for that?"

He nods to the jacket.

[an_evening_star]

"Well, it is sort of like when Tristran says that he would like to meet my sisters," she rolls her eyes amusedly, not at all put off by the length of the stories. "One would have to be far more specific than that."

She glances down at the mess of string and material in her lap.

"I am hoping, perhaps, that it is the thought that counts?"

[takiena_called]

Finn laughs, quietly. "Probably. Or--the bar is likely to trade you for a new one, if the appearance is entirely important. The rip on the sleeve wouldn't be that difficult to sew, but the shoulder would be fairly obvious."

[an_evening_star]

"It is mostly that the coat has survived," her fingers tighten a bit protectively. "Shouldn't just get rid of it."

It's almost disgustingly sentimental - she's vaguely ashamed of herself.

A shrug, pointedly offhand.

"It is alright - he'll just have to be slightly cold in that place."