The Grand Opening of the Nimble Needle

The crack of cloth caught in the wind, whipping like a slaver’s lash, annoyed the Puppeteer as he scrutinized the shop front. With a wave of his hand, he tightened the cords securing the banner, erasing the wrinkles that distorted the bold black font stitched across it and read ‘GRAND OPENING’. Overhead, the spring sky was masked by ever-darkening clouds. “What a fine day for a grand opening,” griped the store owner when he felt the first droplet splatter across his outstretched palm.

Craning his neck one way and then the other, the Puppeteer checked the street for any passersby—there were none. The man slid his hands up his sleeves, not actually rolling them, though the cloth of both shirt and jacket cinched itself up to his elbows, baring his forearms. With swift, precise movements, the Puppeteer conjured his medium like a conductor summoning music from the instruments of his orchestra. Threads slithered through the air, weaving into a massive canvas canopy that stretched from the roof of his shop to the two nearest lampposts. The shadow of the overhang fell across the pale man seconds before the rainclouds released the deluge.

“Dratted weather.” At least his storefront would remain dry, which was more than he could say for the interior. Any customer that entered it would indubitably dribble water everywhere, making more work for him. It hardly seemed a worthwhile venture to simply make the current coin of the era and region. With a shake of his head, the Puppeteer gave a wave of his hand, his strings tugging a few mannequins decorated in his best creations outside beneath the protection of the flamboyant tarpaulin.

The Puppeteer nodded his satisfaction after performing a few subtle modifications to each displayed garment. He spared another glance down either end of the street, the cobblestones glistening from the early morning shower that continued to obscure his opening, before ducking into his shop to wait. Given that each of his creations was linked to him, he had no need to worry about theft. Only after they had left his possession, would he sever the tie—and maybe not even then.

Seated behind the register--an old mechanical one--, the Puppeteer watched the street through the large windows. He counted off the seconds with the drumming of his fingers on the wood of the counter, listening to the echo created by the rain pattering on the canopy outside.

Ever since Okiku arrived to Ireland she had the curiosity of a little child, wanting to go explore every crevice she could possibly find. Casilin Hallows and it's surrounding lands had so much to offer. Especially the village she had passed on the way up to her new home, making a mental note to return there some day. Today she decided to go down town, finally had a chance to get away from her school work.

Inside a quiet room within the castle walls, there was a being under a lump of covers. A Sweet soft yawn filled the air, as she sat up in her bed. A mess of white hair appearing from underneath the comforter, the entangled locks protected her semi open eyes from the dangerous morning light. The sheets slowly flowed down Okiku's body plopping behind her, and with a long stretch outwards, her palms facing forward she let out yet another long drawn out yawn. "God I hate this bloody bed...Why can't I just use a floor mattress..." She wasn't truly accustom in sleeping on a actual bed than the floor mats she used back at home. Groaning softly after she built up enough strength, sliding herself out the rest of the covers.

Eventually getting herself out of the bed, stepping over to the long mirror she had mounted on the back of her door. Using her fingers to comb through her hair, bringing her untamed matted mess into a neat high pony tail a section at a time. After working on that hassle, her ears sprang to life. Picking up the live symphony that was playing against her window panes. Glancing over her shoulder to get a better view, catching the raindrops bouncing off her window. Holding her locks in one hand, she takes a ribbon and ties it into a neat bow. Taking her twin gun metal colored balled chain; she twists the heavy spheres around her white silk tresses. The chains may look like a fashion statement, but what kind of girl would she be if she left her weapons behind? "Ah much better!"

Grasping the tail of her white night gown, pull it over her head exposing her well toned body. Neatly folding her nightwear, she tosses it upon her pillows. Luckily she had bathed the night before, it wouldn't be so wise to venture out in this weather. With a spring in her step, slides over to her dresser pulling the top draw open. Removing out her normal white kimono top with Japanese sunsets and bird decorations, along with crimson vest. Slapping on the garments one at a time, touching the back of her neck. Taking a hold of her hair pulling it through her outfit, allowing it flowing down her back. Now it was time to fetch the final piece of her attire, her black denim pants and her leather boots from the closet. Grabbing a pair of socks from the dresser, as she went back to her bed to put the last pieces on.

Picking up her black tub carrying case, shifting the strap over her head. Letting it nestle nicely between her ample bosom. "Let's see...what else do I need...." Bringing her right hand up to her chin, tapping her finger against supple tan flesh. Once she had sorted her thoughts out, it was time to head out the door. Picking up her small purse of money and rainbow colored umbrella. In a few moments she was out in front of the school and heading down the rocky path toward the village. Before she got to far out she opens up her umbrella, to allow nature's orchestra to continue it's score. Soon her furry ears picked up the added chirping of the birds all around her.

All one could see was a brightly colored umbrella and fluffy white tail swaying underneath it. After a short walk she finally arrived at the village's outskirts, large curious filled eyes were darting every which way. This place was a wondrous area to visit for an international student. The deeper she ventured into town, the more thoughts of home began to flood through her mind. "I wonder if they have some place that sells ramen or even some sushi..." To her nothing could replace a nice hot bowl of pork ramen on a rainy day like this. She was soon brought back to reality with the flapping of a canvas canopy top. Golden hues looking up to the sign above the establishment next to her. "The Nimble Needle? Grand Opening? Hmm..." Her curiosity was spiked, stepping under the massive canopy. Folding in her umbrella, she gives it a vigorous shake to ex-spell the excesses water. Deciding it would be best to leave it at the door, she pushes the door open and steps in. "Hello?" Her golden honey ripples once again started to dart about looking at all the various wares, but eventually they found their way to the gentleman behind the counter. She bows respectfully to the man, straightening herself up after a second. Okiku looks into the man's eyes, giving him a warm smile.

There was always something distinctive about anyone from Caislin Hallows, whether they be student, staff, or professor. It was an oddness that manifested itself in the person in one way or another, and sometimes in very obvious ways. In regards to the woman that entered his shop and met his brown-eyed gaze, the Puppeteer determined that she possessed one of the most obvious manifestations he’d seen thus far. Every twitch of her silver tail or triangular ears was another declaration of her peculiarity and a grin stretched across the shopkeeper’s face.

When she bowed to him, he nodded his head, lowering it in a slight bow that should have threatened to topple his top hat from its perch, but it remained seated on the nest of brown hair despite the tilt. “Good morning,” he murmured, his voice as fluid as the rain streaming down the canvas of his canopy. “Anything I can help you with?”

Those triangle ears of her picked up his soothing rhythmic voice, which caused her to bring left hand to her mouth. Biting on the tip of her index finger, pondering for a moment. "Hmm...well I would like a nice simple dress. I don't have to many of those." The more she thought about her choice of clothing, the more it appeared to her of her decision in fashion. While growing up she didn't have much time to dress feminine ;nor it was wise to do so while practicing her martial arts. Releasing her hold of her finger, Okiku places her hands into her pockets. Readjusting herself at where she stood, to allow herself to get a better view of the man's wares.

"Hmm maybe something nice and simple, a halter style sun dress maybe to wear when I come to visit the town?" Her voice held a chipper tone to it, thinking about the possibility of returning with friends from the school some day. While she stood there letting her eyes wander about. She could imagine herself in a nice blue and white dress, that hugged her well endowed bosom. But left enough room from her fluffy tail. Nothing ignored her more than her tail be restricted, will a few other things did. "So you have anything like that here?"

When creating for a customer, the worst part was not being able to peer into their mind to see the patterns unfolding in their thoughts. Once he had a vague idea of what she wanted, given her simplistic description, the Puppeteer began to work his magic. While there were some, perhaps many, he’d allowed to see his craft as he wove thoughts into reality, he had decided that for the time being, he would keep it a secret so that customer’s might not panic. The town was inhabited by mortals, after all. The Caislin Hallow’s student was just practice for him.

Lithe fingers drummed across the counter top, disguising their more purposeful movements as he manipulated garments nestled between each other on the racks of clothes. Each circular rack supported a random assortment of clothing suspended on hangers, which allowed him to adjust a few here in there, hidden amongst the others so that a customer might not notice. Here, a passion red cocktail dress, its hem designed to tickle the woman’s thighs just above the knee, shivered and transformed into the desired sundress, though it’s color remained. There, a sky blue evening gown shrunk and widened, losing its sleek length in favor of a wider, calf-length skirt. On another rack, a pastel green button-up shirt sewed its front shut and swallowed up its collar and sleeves while stretching the bottom into a modest-length skirt, though it kept the vestigial golden buttons down its front as decorations. In other places, similar modifications affected his stock like a selective plague.

“Mhm, feel free to look around. I haven’t really established any order yet, so everything’s scattered about.” The Puppeteer indicated the many racks with slow flourish of his hand.

"Ah okay...Let's just see what we got here..." Stepping away from the spot where she stood at and began to browse through the various outfits. The first thing she found was a passion red cocktail dress. It was perfectly hemd to tickle her thighs just above the knee. Something nice and sexy for a possible hot date. Picking the dress as one of her possible choices. Moving onto the next rack there was a sky blue evening gown shrunk and widened; losing its sleek length in favor of a wider, calf-length skirt. It was other great outfit her parents would never allow her to have. Such frilly things weren't allowed. On another rack, there was a pastel green button-up shirt. With its front sewed shut and swallowed up its collar and sleeves while stretching the bottom into a modest-length skirt. Though it kept the vestigial golden buttons down its front as decorations.

All these outfits found their way into her hands, moving over to one last rack she hadn't checked out yet. Those large hues of her, widen once they landed on a single garment. "Oii! This is so nice! Watashi ha ima、kono kenri wo motte iru hitsuyou ga ari masu! (I must have this right now!)" Having forget where she was, her hands moved lightening fast snatching the dress from the rack. It was blue and white stripped dress, the hugged her breast like she wished. But also continued down her waist, where it would flared out just above her knee. Taking all the items she had gathered to the front counter, she lays her selections out before the man. Giving him another nice smile, her tail was wagging quickly behind her. Just like happy puppy who finally saw their master after a long time.

For every garment in the store, there was a simple white silk tag with black thread stitched to spell out a price in Euros, which the Puppeteer had months ago discovered to be the current local currency. The tags fluttered like decorative pennons with every draft her movements created, as if to beckon her closer. His prices were reasonable, especially given the expert quality of each article of clothing.

When the woman approached the Puppeteer, stationed behind the counter like a common clerk, he lifted his eyes from the newspaper he had spread across the wood to read while she was busy browsing. The newsprint crinkled as she deposited the dresses upon it. Furrowing his brow in mild annoyance, his thin dark eyebrows scrunching together like frightened inchworms, the Puppeteer examined her selection.

“Will this be all?” he asked, suppressing the seething tone that longed to seep into his voice. Sometimes, even as outgoing as he was, the Puppeteer just was not in the mood to put up with the antics of others. The downpour outside had dampened his excitement for opening the store, especially since he couldn’t see any other customers through the screen of the deluge streaming from the canvas canopy.

When she heard the question if this all she was getting, she wanted to say no not at all. She wanted more, much...much more than what she had selected. She wanted to clean out a majority of his racks and restart her clothing collection. She had to responsible person and refrain herself those temptations that surrounded her. Letting out a shaky sigh and nods to him. Yes that'll be all. Thank you...

She was unaware that she had placed her clothing upon his newspaper, being in her own little world didn't help her absent minded problem. Not paying attention to her surroundings often got her into trouble with her family and friends back home. Tilting her head to the side, a few white strands fell free swooping in front of those large orbs of her's. Seeing the newspaper she lets out a small whimper then glances up to the gentleman behind the counter. His annoyance with her was apparently written upon his face, all she could do was bow slightly. Sorry about that...how much is it sir?Her voice was soft mixed with a apologetic tone.

“One moment. Feel free to browse in the mean time,” answered the Puppeteer to the interrupting young man. There was no asking for his patience, no title of respected added. As the proprietor of what would surely become a popular shop, the Puppeteer felt little need in being overly polite to his budding clientele. His every work was a masterpiece, woven and stitched by his own hand—or something like that—and no two articles were the same, each unique and different from the others in the shop, even the world, save a few that were replicas, far superior to the originals in his mind, of top fashion designs he’d seen in magazines.

Marginally annoyed by the girl, he smoothed his fingers over the fabric she’d deposited on the counter. With the gesture, the black cloth stitched into the silk price tags writhed and reformed as new, higher values. The change was so subtle, most of the tags buried in the pile of clothing, that it was unlikely anyone would detect his alteration. Afterwards, the Puppeteer rifled through the garments, maintaining the charade of the average shop clerk as he tallied up the price of each item that already lingered in his thoughts. He gave her the total, which was a little steep, but nothing too unreasonable for such high quality clothing.

Waiting on her to produce the Euros or equivalent in pounds, the Puppeteer’s gaze flicked to the other customer. The youth’s question had been a seed that sprouted only more questions, not an answer. While of course, the Puppeteer would affirm that it was true, reputation and ego demanded it, he wondered who the maids that spoke so highly of him were, given that he’d only fashioned garments for three of Caislin’s residents as far as he could recall. Memories were so fleeting and since his release from the Seelie spell binding him in the tomb, he trusted his mind to recall events properly less and less.