Categories > Games > World of Warcraft > Tej'lie
Dalaran was bustling with activity with all the people that had been in such a rush to get here, now many of them were trying to make ends meet after spending all their coin on the trip here. The streets were loud, garbage filled and smelt faintly of poop. With all the pets and mounts that were running through the streets it was amazing the place wasn't up to the neck in fetuses. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of such things touching her, her stomach turned in distaste. She couldn't actually see any piles about, she stepped on the street finding a couple of peons walking behind a cart each with a shovel in hand. Despite their unsavory job the kaldorei and orc joked with one another.
This was always so amazing to the mage, when fractions that had been taught to hate the other were actually able to put their differences aside and work together. She knew she didn't have such a warm heart, she didn't have an overwhelming hate for the races of the Alliance. She just carried no love for them either, she kept herself indifferent. Her shop had forced her to deal with everyone of all shapes, colors and creeds. She frowned she had to correct herself, she used to deal with all the races when the little franchise was booming. Now it was amazing if she had a sale in a month from the store.
She finished her delivery of goods to the local tailor for the small reward that was promised, she dropped the gold coins in her pouch on her way out. Glad they were too busy to bend her ears with all the endless stories they seem to have. She wandered to a few shops and nearly getting run over by a warlock's fiery steed and a huge kodo, she pegged it time to leave. She opened a side pocket on her travel bag and freed a smaller stone from it. She performed a ritual and she simply vanished.
Shattrah was more appeasing to her senses, the city that had offered hope for so many laid barren for the most part. She had fallen in love with the circular city the moment she rode into it, there was such a presence here she didn't fully understand. It was warm and welcoming, like a mother's embrace, she couldn’t find a reason to leave.
So, she started selling her uniquely designed traveling bags at the auction house. This proved to be a very profitable business, enough for her to pay for a small property in the Lower City near the bank. In the two story building she used the lower half as her shop and the upper half for her living quarters. People use to come from all over just to browse her little shop and buy her designs. Since, the rush to other worlds and other tailors flooding the market with cheaper bags, her designs were not sought after. Even after she lowered the prices to compensate, she was loosing more money than was coming in.
Thus, forcing her to use her magical talents for fighting and running errands for other to pay for expenses. To her it was worth all the fuss, this was her place and owned it outright. It was only a matter of time before her next venture will add to the sweetness she had to offer. Enchantments. They were not cheap for anyone and once she was practiced fully in the arts she would have that to offer as well as the garments she crafted.
The troll unlocked the door with a skeleton key and whispered a chant before she shoved it open. The familiar smell of fabric drafted over her, she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She felt her body instantly relax, she leaned against the door to release the breath. "Home," she whispered and with a flick of her wrist several candles were lit warming the shop with their glow. Another caused the wood in the hearth to burst into a crackling fire bringing warmth to the chill that had fallen in the overcrowded shop.
She was flanked by racks of robes and other clothing, in the windows were a display of traveling bags and other specialized pouches with all sorts of flamboyant patterns. A chair was shoved against the wall near the hearth which she wasn't able to put in until she had shortened the counter that had cut the room in half when she first bought it. The chair had been visually displeasing if it hadn't been so amazingly comfortable she would not have taken it. She refurbished a cloak to correct the visual problem. Behind what was left of the counter sat her workbench, patterns and shears stuffed here and there. Bolts of fabric poked from the shelves under the workspace. Against the back wall, a large foot-treadle floor loom was perched. Her pride and joy.
Tej'lie sat her traveling pack on the counter and touched the sturdy frame with affection. She had the loom specially designed for her long legs. Before she had saved enough for the loom, she was balled up uncomfortably trying to weave her fabric. This one she was able to sit comfortably for hours.
With another exhale she turned away from the structure and took inventory of the space. The log rack was empty, the delivery of wood brought the day before still needed to be split and stacked. The kettle hissed as it heated with no water, she picked up the iron hook and pulled the swinging arm away from the fire. She didn't need the empty pot burning, she had lost to many good kettles that way.
Tej'lie put off all the things she should have been doing and sat at the loom, she touched the soft yet strangely durable frostweave she was weaving. The pattern was simple, deep rich tones that would enhance her own flesh tone. She wanted to start cutting and sewing soon, she just needed to finish making the bolt first. She toyed with the idea of just heading off to bed and starting fresh in the morning. Something tugged at her and wouldn't let her do that just yet.
A tapping on the door stalled her rhythm, she glanced at the panel with a frown. "Closed, come back in da morning," she called and sent the shuttle through the shed once more before the knock came again, this time a little more insistent. Grumbling, she untangled herself from her work and stalked to the door. She warmed up a frost spell in her head, just in case.
She was flabbergasted to see a draenei standing at her threshold, holding the back of his robe in the most peculiar way. The broad shouldered male gave her a slight bow than straightened quickly. His light blue cheeks darkened with embarrassment. "Forgive my invasion, mage," his tone of voice was deep, silky smooth. Something she would have no problem listening to for hours on end. "I have found myself in the most dire need of a tailor."
This was always so amazing to the mage, when fractions that had been taught to hate the other were actually able to put their differences aside and work together. She knew she didn't have such a warm heart, she didn't have an overwhelming hate for the races of the Alliance. She just carried no love for them either, she kept herself indifferent. Her shop had forced her to deal with everyone of all shapes, colors and creeds. She frowned she had to correct herself, she used to deal with all the races when the little franchise was booming. Now it was amazing if she had a sale in a month from the store.
She finished her delivery of goods to the local tailor for the small reward that was promised, she dropped the gold coins in her pouch on her way out. Glad they were too busy to bend her ears with all the endless stories they seem to have. She wandered to a few shops and nearly getting run over by a warlock's fiery steed and a huge kodo, she pegged it time to leave. She opened a side pocket on her travel bag and freed a smaller stone from it. She performed a ritual and she simply vanished.
Shattrah was more appeasing to her senses, the city that had offered hope for so many laid barren for the most part. She had fallen in love with the circular city the moment she rode into it, there was such a presence here she didn't fully understand. It was warm and welcoming, like a mother's embrace, she couldn’t find a reason to leave.
So, she started selling her uniquely designed traveling bags at the auction house. This proved to be a very profitable business, enough for her to pay for a small property in the Lower City near the bank. In the two story building she used the lower half as her shop and the upper half for her living quarters. People use to come from all over just to browse her little shop and buy her designs. Since, the rush to other worlds and other tailors flooding the market with cheaper bags, her designs were not sought after. Even after she lowered the prices to compensate, she was loosing more money than was coming in.
Thus, forcing her to use her magical talents for fighting and running errands for other to pay for expenses. To her it was worth all the fuss, this was her place and owned it outright. It was only a matter of time before her next venture will add to the sweetness she had to offer. Enchantments. They were not cheap for anyone and once she was practiced fully in the arts she would have that to offer as well as the garments she crafted.
The troll unlocked the door with a skeleton key and whispered a chant before she shoved it open. The familiar smell of fabric drafted over her, she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She felt her body instantly relax, she leaned against the door to release the breath. "Home," she whispered and with a flick of her wrist several candles were lit warming the shop with their glow. Another caused the wood in the hearth to burst into a crackling fire bringing warmth to the chill that had fallen in the overcrowded shop.
She was flanked by racks of robes and other clothing, in the windows were a display of traveling bags and other specialized pouches with all sorts of flamboyant patterns. A chair was shoved against the wall near the hearth which she wasn't able to put in until she had shortened the counter that had cut the room in half when she first bought it. The chair had been visually displeasing if it hadn't been so amazingly comfortable she would not have taken it. She refurbished a cloak to correct the visual problem. Behind what was left of the counter sat her workbench, patterns and shears stuffed here and there. Bolts of fabric poked from the shelves under the workspace. Against the back wall, a large foot-treadle floor loom was perched. Her pride and joy.
Tej'lie sat her traveling pack on the counter and touched the sturdy frame with affection. She had the loom specially designed for her long legs. Before she had saved enough for the loom, she was balled up uncomfortably trying to weave her fabric. This one she was able to sit comfortably for hours.
With another exhale she turned away from the structure and took inventory of the space. The log rack was empty, the delivery of wood brought the day before still needed to be split and stacked. The kettle hissed as it heated with no water, she picked up the iron hook and pulled the swinging arm away from the fire. She didn't need the empty pot burning, she had lost to many good kettles that way.
Tej'lie put off all the things she should have been doing and sat at the loom, she touched the soft yet strangely durable frostweave she was weaving. The pattern was simple, deep rich tones that would enhance her own flesh tone. She wanted to start cutting and sewing soon, she just needed to finish making the bolt first. She toyed with the idea of just heading off to bed and starting fresh in the morning. Something tugged at her and wouldn't let her do that just yet.
A tapping on the door stalled her rhythm, she glanced at the panel with a frown. "Closed, come back in da morning," she called and sent the shuttle through the shed once more before the knock came again, this time a little more insistent. Grumbling, she untangled herself from her work and stalked to the door. She warmed up a frost spell in her head, just in case.
She was flabbergasted to see a draenei standing at her threshold, holding the back of his robe in the most peculiar way. The broad shouldered male gave her a slight bow than straightened quickly. His light blue cheeks darkened with embarrassment. "Forgive my invasion, mage," his tone of voice was deep, silky smooth. Something she would have no problem listening to for hours on end. "I have found myself in the most dire need of a tailor."
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