Inktober 2025 - 15 - Ragged

At the sound of a heap of fabric being dropped onto her working station, in front of her, her eyes rose from her current task to see what had been brought to her. After having considered the mangled stack of textile for nearly a minute, she then lifted her gaze a little higher, to the young man who had deposited it.

"And what do you expect me to do with this, exactly?" she asked.

"Please, fix them," he pleaded, smiling sheepishly.

At least he was being polite about it. She liked him. He was not a bad kid, but by everything sacred, did he ruin a lot of garments!

"How? I cannot even tell what any of this used to be…"

With the tip of the pencil she had been using to sketch sewing patterns when he had come in, she lifted a few pieces of material here and there. She was trying to ascertain the damage, but she could not make heads or tails of anything. This bit could just as well have been underwear as a coat. She considered herself experienced, but she did not even know what could have been done to obtain such a result. What terrible duress had those items endured?

"Hey! Those are my clothes, you're talking about!" he protested.

"I get it, but listen: I'm a seamstress, not a wizard."

"Come one! It can't be that bad…"

"Excuse me; are we looking at the same thing, here?"

She raised her eyebrows and gestured eloquently at his delivery. Had it been munched on by a camel? Devoured by mutant moths? Had he been attacked by some sort of monster with sharp claws, teeth, and maybe spikes all over its body?

He sighed. He guessed he could not deny it any longer: this was hopeless. Beyond repair. His stuff was in such bad shape that it was incredible he was unharmed himself.

"I went to the mercer, but he said he would not give me any more material," he confessed.

"Harsh, but understandable."

"In your professional opinion, is there anything you could possibly do with what I have here?"

"This is your entire wardrobe?" she deduced.

"Pretty much. Barring what I have on me," he confirmed.

"Well, for starters, before I even attempt to Frankenstein anything wearable out of all this, I'm going to need to know how it happened in the first place, because I'm not about to go through all that effort just for it to happen again right after. It would help to know what I need to protect your clothes against."

"… It's stupid."

"I have to sew chain mail into every seam of every shirt, for that kid that weighs nothing, so he doesn't blow away with the wind; I assure you there is not such thing as a stupid ability in this town."

She herself had four arms, for crying out loud!

"… I… Er… I run too fast," he mumbled finally.

She giggled a little at the revelation.

"Talk about running yourself ragged."