[open] not a swatch, not a skein had gone to waste

[doneisdone]

WHO: Teren von Skraedder and cheapskates
WHAT: Outfit consultations/fittings/alterations for the ball. From this post.
WHEN: From early Drakonis to the night of the event
WHERE: The Herald's Rest, second floor; personal rooms
NOTES: She can do anything an Orlesian tailor can, and without a stupid mask.

Teren can be found at a large corner table in the Herald's Rest, where she has set up an impromptu workshop for those who can't afford or would prefer not to use the Orlesian tailors.

She is also making house calls for those who request them. (Just put it in your starter!)

Comments

[bookish_lioness]

While Hermione had passed through the Herald's Rest on her first tour of Skyhold, she isn't overly familiar with it, and so has to ask for directions as she curiously moves throughout the tavern. When she finally finds Teren, she stops just a bit away from the table, a slightly tattered red dress draped over her arm.

"Excuse me?" she starts, a small, polite smile on her face. "Are you the one who put up the advert for making alterations on party clothes?"

House Call

[nofury]

It had been suggested she attend this event properly. No swords, no shields, no armor. May as well be naked, in her opinion, but no one was asking for it. The least she could do was give some small protest and go in something other than Orlesian fashion, like a proper born and bred Ferelden. Masks. Really.

In her own small quarters within the keep she's shoved the desk to the side, making room for measuring and whatever it was tailors did. If Maria was going to suffer, it was at least going to be in private.

[wontforgetyou]

As much as events like this aren't really ones that Jamie normally goes to, he has a bit of a weakness when it comes to getting talked into something by a lassie - and somehow, before he knows it, he's found himself not only talked into going to the ball, but in need of some clothing for it.

Luckily he's got a notion of what he wants, and he's pretty sure it's not anything any of the Orlesian tailors would want to provide. Teren's message (once he's puzzled out the gist of it, anyway) sounds perfect, and the moment he gets a chance he makes his way to the Herald's Rest, lifting the hand without the shard in it in a friendly greeting.

"Hello there! You're the person who's offering your services for tailoring outfits?"

[lettersfromhome]

It's not that she takes issue with the Orlesian dressmakers, necessarily. But it's all a little...much, as far as she's concerned. Mia prefers things that are practical, and certainly a good deal less costly.

So the notice for a dressmaker was taken to heart, and she visits the Herald's Rest mid-afternoon, eyes searching the room for a moment before spotting the woman at the corner table. Primly, she makes her approach.

"Teren von Skraedder, I presume?"

Tent Call? Tent call.

[fleurdesel]

Fine gowns with fine fabrics- if that is what Vivienne wishes, so be it. But there are more things than gowns Adelaide needs minding- ill fitting kirtles and, yes, the dresses her mother sent from Val Royeaux. Attempting to dress one's daughter when one has not seen them for almost three decades feels like an exercise in futility. At least they all err on the side of too large.

Adelaide sent a note, a request- that the fitting and alteration take place in her healing tent as she has a fair bit to do and not much time to do it in- multitasking would be preferable. When Teren arrives Adelaide offers a brief nod and a gesture to a full kettle of tea she's brewed. "Thank you for coming."

[doneisdone]

Teren arrives exactly on time, a little wooden sewing box clutched in one of her hands. She knocks briskly, and when allowed in, her eyes rove over Maria as though she's already taking measurements in her mind.

"Afternoon," she greets, "and what manner of garment will we be discussing?"

[doneisdone]

Teren is sitting with a mug of ale and a swatch of fabric on which she's testing an embroidery pattern, from which she looks up when she hears a voice.
"Aye, that's me," she greets, "what can I do for you?" Her eyes dip to Jamie's lower half, then back up at his face. Interesting. She doesn't comment, but is clearly intrigued by his style choices.

[doneisdone]

Teren looks up from her work and, at the sight of the girl, offers a genuine if wry smile.
"Well hello," she greets, "aye, that's me. Glad to see you arrived in one piece."

[doneisdone]

"You presume correctly," Teren answers, her voice rough but formal. She gestures for Mia to take a seat at the chair in front of her, and extends her hand in greeting. "What can I do for you, then?"

[doneisdone]

Teren arrives punctually, and with her sewing kit in hand, ready to go. "The pleasure is mine," she answers, straight-faced and not very pleasurably at all-- if nothing else, she's just very formal.
"What is it you need done, then?"

[obi_wanmanshow]

A Jedi's attire is a mirror for their philosophy, for the Order itself, and for the work a Jedi must do. It is roughspun, loose-cut, simply contructed, and layered. Obi-Wan had worn this or similar in battle as well as formal dinners, state functions, and while addressing government bodies.

It was, what you might call, all-purpose.

But the problem with all purposes was that, when combined, they did take their toll. A torn hem, a stained knee, a threadbare place that had been inexpertly patched... His cloak, in particular, had seen better days. He left the armor, partial-piece as it was, behind in the quarters that had been assigned to him. The rest was, with the exception of the relatively unmarred base-layer, draped over one arm in a harmonious spill of browns; tan, chocolate, and cream.

"Excuse me, would you be madam Teren von Skraedder? We spoke, not long ago, over the sending crystals."

[bookish_lioness]

She hadn't been sure if the name had been right, given how many people she'd met over the past couple of weeks. But when she sees Teren and the recognition in her eyes, her smile turns into something a little more genuine.

"I did, yes. I've had a little help from a lot of people. I didn't realize you were a seamstress here."

[fleurdesel]

"A few dresses taken in, preferably while I might continue writing if that is at all possible." Wasting hours with the Orlesian tailors had grated upon her nerves intensely. "And at least one requires hemming."

[doneisdone]

"That's me," Teren assures him, eyeing the clothing draped over his arm. "So we did. This is the offending clothing, then?" She smirks slightly, holding out her hand to get a better look at what he's holding.

[doneisdone]

"I wasn't," Teren brusquely replies, "but now I am. I like to make myself useful when the Wardens aren't up to their usual business." Which is to say, fighting darkspawn and being the pariahs of Thedas.
"Now then-- what is it I can alter for you?"

[doneisdone]

Teren considers, and smirks a bit-- she knows a kindred spirit when she sees one, and appreciates the need for efficiency. "I'll need you to stand once or twice to get the fit right, but I think that's quite manageable." She can't imagine it will take much longer than a consultation and pinning, which, granted, can be tedious, but less so when she does it than when multiple fancy Orlesians are tutting over someone. She knows this from experience.

[obi_wanmanshow]

"Yes, ma'am," He's not one to refuse a request when it's so clearly not said. He offers her his burden with both hands, willingly.

"Hopefully what's needed is obvious. I've done my best in the past, but I'm no tailor, I'm afraid."

[doneisdone]

"I see that," Teren bluntly replies, though not with any malice. "This shouldn't take long, though the fabric on your trousers is worn through and will need to be patched, unless you want a new pair." Casual upselling, no big deal.

[fleurdesel]

"Excellent." That is more than agreeable- however long she needs to stand here will be far less than what they'd needed of her the other day; Adelaide is already wearing one of the dresses, rich and dark blue and edged in gold, hanging loose about the hips and bust.

When in doubt, order large. Something her mother took to heart. She stands and frowns a bit at the fall of the fabric, but trusts Teren to instruct her for how they best start.

[obi_wanmanshow]

"If you would be so kind, better now than later," When one of any number of mortifying pants disasters came to call, no doubt, "Though I was given to understand that the Inquisition would reimburse for some so basic as pants."

Don't you swindle at him, saleslady, he knows your type. Although given the wry little smile, he admires her blunt, capitolist bent more than anything. A woman to be respected, that's for sure.

But he's still not paying any extra out of his own pocket.

[bookish_lioness]

The mention of the Wardens intrigues her, since Hermione had only heard about them briefly and was curious to learn more. But it wouldn't be fair to come here for one thing and ask for another, and so she decides to ask Teren more about that later.

So for now, she holds up her dress, which looks as though it's seen better days, likely before it had been spat out of a rift. "I happen to have this, but I wasn't sure if it would fit in with local fashion. I'd like to know if it's too short or too revealing or simply inappropriate for the kind of party that's being thrown, and if it is, whether it could be altered so it looks a little more acceptable."

[doneisdone]

Getting a look at the state of the dress, Teren clicks her tongue disapprovingly and takes a knee. "This will need to be taken in a great deal," she intones, "I'll go ahead and pin it while it's on, if you don't mind. We can do them one at a time."

[doneisdone]

"I'm afraid that's only for the tailors provided by the Inquisition," Teren replies, hesitating while taking the clothes. "Mine is a private venture, though it is, on the whole, the more convenient and less Orlesian option." Sensing that he may have an issue, she easily continues with, "I can cut you a deal for the outfit, if you like."

[doneisdone]

Teren immediately cringes at the sight of the dress, reaching out to pluck gingerly at its hem. "Goodness, girl, you're not going to a brothel," she exclaims, "yes, we'll need to extend the skirts by quite a lot. ...and the sleeves." Really most of this dress is wretched and whorish, but she's willing to give Hermione the benefit of the doubt, being not from around here and all.

"It fits fine otherwise?" she asks, looking at it gingerly.

[nofury]

"A dress I can move in."

Practical had almost been the word, but that would means something other than a dress. So she'll settle for the next best thing as she steps aside to let the woman into the sparsely furnished room.