[ToZ] Mend

[selenias]

Title: Mend
Author: lavendre
Fandom: Tales of Zestiria
Characters/pairing: Rose, Sorey. The crew.
Rating: all audiences
Word Count: 1210~

Notes: Sorey's good at housework -- no one's surprised but Rose.

Rose had her favorite tunic taken and washed in the noble's quarters - she got a discount as a merchant, the name of the Sparrowfeathers on everyone's lips - it smelled like rose water and the clean perfumes all the nobles of Ladylake wore. A little like Alisha, fresh like the pink silicians blooming in her yard.

The seamstress disappeared into the backroom to retrieve her garments from the shelves. Rose was used to washing on the road or in between towns. Dry cleaners were irredeemable high places, like saunas, bars, and stables. She abused all her power with the credibility of an actual history to back her.

She lay the folded garments on the table, pink, cream, and her favorite pants, torn at the ankle and thighs. She stared in disbelief and slid her thumb through the hole, the size of an avocado pit.

"Huh? They're ripped!"

"I'm sorry, but threading is a separate business. Our residential seamstress recently transferred to Marlind to help the with the Hyland soldiers. Men have two left thumbs, you know."

Rose scraped the coin out of her pocket. Lailah stood off to her side, fluttering nearby, anxious about the plants in the window, the friendly women laughing and gossiping behind the counter. She'd insisted accompanying her - something about learning the trade - but the city's events always kept her distracted.

"I'm bad with needle and thread," she confessed. Lailah examined them later, unfolded them on the inn's bed, where they looked neat and proper, like a clothes shop display.

"I can't say I'm any better, I'm afraid." She buttoned the tunic up, the yellow buttons cheerful from the glow of the lamp. "I'm surprised that a traveling merchant wouldn't have much experience with repairs, though. Why is that?"

Rose shrugged. "I'm impatient. My hands are small. I always stab myself with the needle. It's hard enough fixing stitches than adding eliminating blood stains on top of that."

Lailah giggled. A knock came from the door, and Rose slipped up onto the bed, pulling off her boots.

"Door's unlocked, you night owls!"

Mikleo slipped in first, then Sorey behind him, two brown bags hanging off his shoulders. Rose half expected them to pop, but they resisted, and Sorey bundled both off to a corner.

"Did you find those manuals?"

"Yes! They're in perfect condition." Mikleo's cheeks turned pink at his own outburst. "I mean - you have a good eye, Rose. Thank you for recommending them to me. They'll prove useful."

She smiled and returned her attention to the problem at hand. Sorey was pulling off his boots and sighing in the tired way he did after a long day of walking. The room seemed crowded when the seraph started filing in, but Rose stayed on her bed, legs crossed.

Sorey nodded his head in her direction. "What are you working on?"

"Not working on anything. Trying to see if Lailah has any experience with hand sewing. She claims she doesn't."

"I don't - I mean, it's been several decades since I've last held a needle and thread. I'd need some remnants to toy with first. Make sure I remember."

Sorey and Mikleo both perked up. "Well that's not a problem. Sorey's good with sewing. He's always repairing his clothes."

"What?!" Rose scrutinized his shirt and his pants. "I thought you simply kept buying more clothes! Isn't that what you went out to the stalls for?"

"No. Mikleo demanded that I take him book shopping. Everyone thinks I'm an illusionist now." Mikleo spluttered, book bouncing on his knees as he turned around to scowl in the chair he'd scraped close to the fire. Sorey grinned at him. "We have enough supplies now that we can leave tomorrow if you're ready."

Rose wadded up her clean shirt and chucked it at his head. "Actually, would you take a look at that and tell me if it's fixable?"

Sorey flopped back on the opposite bed and squinted at the tear, carefully pulling it tight. It was the cream colored blouse with black buttons and soft elbow pads. She'd traded her seventh favorite dagger for that damn thing and now saw herself adding it to the furnace.

"Aw, that's a small hole. I can fix it. Did you have any thread?"

"Well, no." She blinked. "I usually just buy new clothes when these one's go bad."

Mikleo stared. "You toss them? Seriously? Isn't that wasteful?"

Rose felt mildly embarrassed. "Merchants are often expected to always look their best. Part of the selling process is appearance; no one who's serious about trading is going to make a deal with someone who can't look the part."

"Hm." Mikleo returned his attention to the fire. "I don't quite buy that, but whatever."

Lailah sat down on the bed beside Sorey. "If you had access to other wares besides whatever was available in Elysia, you might be the same, Mikleo."

Mikleo's cheeks turned pink. He crossed a leg over his knee and looked mostly hunched. "I suppose," he coughed.

Sorey laughed. "Don't worry about him Rose. I've got supplies. I think the village got tired of constantly mending my clothes as a kid. I used to go home with holes and tears and one day Gramps showed me how to fix them myself. I can show you too sometime, if you'd like."

He pulled the fabric over his knees and removed a small tin case from the bag on his belt. It's hinges opened without a sound and Sorey threaded a needle with similar colored thread. "It's not going to be a perfect match, I'm afraid. But you shouldn't notice it unless you look for it."

Rose stared in disbelief. "I never would have pegged you as the kind of guy that would know this stuff. I'm glad you do."

"Don't compliment him too much, or his head'll explode."

"Shut up, Mikleo. My hand might slip."

"Yeah, and so might mine."

She watched Sorey mend the two torn pieces back together again. His shoulders slowly slumped over his thighs, his face relaxed into something soft and thoughtful, and he looked wholly invested in the repair. Lailah looked deeply focused - and maybe they all were. Anything Sorey fixed with intent was bound to stand - that was just the standard for a shepherd.

"Thanks," she said sincerely, when he was finished. Rose ran a thumb along the pocket, the neat clean stitches of yellow thread. The fabric felt stronger than it had before the tear. "You'll have to show me how to do this stuff sometime. Since I'm like, your squire - or something."

Sorey looked startled, then he resumed the slow task of rolling up the bobbin, hands twisting around. "It's not hard, you just have to be patient."

"Or she could learn from the source," Mikleo murmured. "Elysia."

Rose felt her chest swell a little. Sorey noticed and gave a her a bashful grin.

"Yeah, that would be cool too!"