A Piece of Home

[Rance]

Outside the room of one Vara at the Broken Dagger, a palm-sized package awaited notice.

A tiny, sinew-tied bag, stained a woody brown at the bottom by the oils of the smokeleaf it once contained, lay beneath a square fold of parchment.

VT,

It is just a little some thing, may you get ec ak eksepsional use of them,

because you have lost some things does not mean you can not have new things,

These are a thing brought from my home, maybe they can find a home with you,

Glour'eya Wynsee

Inside the poque bag were three smoothly-curved needles chiseled out of dark, mottled bone, their points carved with extreme care. And at the bottom of the bag, two spools of red-dyed thread hang like meager weights.

Cochineal.

[SuperRy]

It was no small thing, this scarlet treatise, this gift that bore the colour of -home-. It was no small thing, for it brought, however fleeting, a smile where before there had been only tears.

Glour'eya --

It is my favorite colour. And to safeguard it, I shall tuck it away where it may remain hidden from those who would try and remove it.

Thank you.

Vara Tas T.

P.S. Perhaps we might have tea again tomorrow--downstairs, this time.

[Rance]

Several days later, a gift was given to the seamstress while she sat on the porch under a jaundiced Moon. Its delivery came by way of a young starling of a girl, a normal girl, a mundane girl. Before even, "Hello, Vara," could find its way from her lips, Gloria Wynsee was left with the simply-bound parcel.

Inside, a hearty square of scarlet-dyed fabric was carefully folded, warm and well-woven at a touch, soft against rough fingertips. It had once, Gloria realized after a few minutes, been the confederate of a greater whole: a piece of a prim and noble dress.

She slept that night with the textile draped across her protruding belly, that the child stirring restless within might understand--

"Our friend gave it to you. Our friend," the girl whispered.