Red Strings of Fate (Open) [January]

Niphredil watched as her father returned, wondering at the reasoning. He did not have in hand the silks he had sought to go buy and had spoken of for hours that morning. In fact, he looked flushed in the face, as if he had been running. He exchanged some words with Haleth, then with the soldier, Gwathion. Ringing her lips in quiet discomfort, the young woman was thankful for the reprieve. Though, perhaps he had not liked the cloak, for it was once more in Haleth’s arms.

It was much to her surprise that Gwathion wrote yet another note for her before leaving, and as the door closed at his heels, the young woman breathed a small sigh of relief. Hesitantly, she dropped her eyes to reach the last scrawl he had given her.

An answer when he returned?

Her brow furrowed, fingers pressing the parchment into the small pile she had amassed through the interaction.

--

“I think we sold the cloak,” Haleth hummed pleasantly. She had worked very hard on it herself; the delicate hand stitching for the custom order had not been an easy endeavor, and she had been more than faintly perturbed that the buyer had changed his mind, and more so that he had been so forceful and aggressive about it that her father had caved into allowing a return of payment.

Her father, though, was not in paying her much mind. His eyes were trained instead on his eldest, and the pallor that had encroached upon her cheek. “Niffy?” Lathron voiced, stepping around the counter and coming to press a hand to her shoulder.

Niphredil startled, though looked up to him in thanks. “I didn’t finish the pattern,” she offered apologetically, but the man shook his head to indicate that was not why he was frowning. “All right?” He asked, forcing his lips to make extravagant motions so his daughter could better understand.

She gave a strange shrug motion, the young woman’s thin face contorting slightly in discomfort. Lathron eyed her in study.

“He wants to bring her to a bookstore, I believe,” Haleth offered, settling back to her stitching now that the shop was empty.

Lathron knew from the angle Haleth was standing that Niphredil stood no chance of understanding such offered words. His own shoulders pinched, and he looked to the door in frown, though; the soldier had barely been a man! Interest in his eldest…

There was someone else he thought on instead. “Niffy,” he bent, catching her brown eyes and holding a steady look. “Fin was waving to me as I walked by his shop—do you want to see if he finished up the beads?”

He was reaching and writing key words upon her slate with the chalk: Fin’s, beads, finished?.

Reading over his shoulder, Niffy nodded, feeling a tension lighten in her chest. “I can do that,” she finished. Maybe she could take her pattern work there and finish her calculations; sometimes Finlach liked having the company. And the thought of his kind smile, and bright eyes was enough to make her stomach feel settled.

Her father paused, brushing a hand over his daughter’s dark hair and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Haleth?” He asked. “Did she already make known her feelings on the matter?”

“I think she tried,” Haleth answered over her shoulder with a small shrug. “I don’t think he was listening.”

“When he comes back, I will handle him myself,” Lathron said. “Haleth, you and Li take the coin and order the silk, will you?”

Haleth looked up, brow raised. “How much?”

“You know what we normally order,” the man dismissed. “And drop Niffy off at Fin’s on the way down, hm? I'll be here to welcome that soldier back.” Perhaps he should send his youngest as well; with as young as that boy looked he might look unto her next. With a scoff he turned, settling against the counter in wait, watching as his three eldest children readied and fled into the bright, rambunctious streets.