Deciding to wear her best motley for the performance at Miss Maranya's hospice, Lirssa drew it out of her wardrobe. She had worn it only for special performances, or when the other motley was still dirty and not yet washed. With such care, the red with its gold accents had been preserved very near its original rich color and spark.
In her anticipation, she began to dress and found to her consternation, "Butter and beans, not this one, too." Yes, her growing had taken its toll on her favorite motley as well. It was bad enough that her mother was having to try and keep up with the twins and her in their everyday clothing. There was no way she was going to expect her parents to spend coin and time on motley. They never had before, and Lirssa was not going to let them start.
The impromptu performance would have to wait. For now, she had to fix the situation of having no well fitting motley, and the only person she could trust was Miss Lydia. Dressing back in her embroidered tunic, with additions to the sleeves to lengthen them, and her pants, tucked into her boots to hide how short they were, she picked up her emptying coin purse holding her own well earned funds, and started the walk into town and on to the Stitch.
At her arrival to the Stitch, the afternoon sun was high in the sky, arching towards its rest on the horizon. She smiled to the staff each in their turn, but she was on the hunt for the main lady. There were other things she needed to talk about than just getting taller. Parts of her were slender, others wider, and all sorts of strangeness going on. She needed a private consultation.
In her anticipation, she began to dress and found to her consternation, "Butter and beans, not this one, too." Yes, her growing had taken its toll on her favorite motley as well. It was bad enough that her mother was having to try and keep up with the twins and her in their everyday clothing. There was no way she was going to expect her parents to spend coin and time on motley. They never had before, and Lirssa was not going to let them start.
The impromptu performance would have to wait. For now, she had to fix the situation of having no well fitting motley, and the only person she could trust was Miss Lydia. Dressing back in her embroidered tunic, with additions to the sleeves to lengthen them, and her pants, tucked into her boots to hide how short they were, she picked up her emptying coin purse holding her own well earned funds, and started the walk into town and on to the Stitch.
At her arrival to the Stitch, the afternoon sun was high in the sky, arching towards its rest on the horizon. She smiled to the staff each in their turn, but she was on the hunt for the main lady. There were other things she needed to talk about than just getting taller. Parts of her were slender, others wider, and all sorts of strangeness going on. She needed a private consultation.