Private Thread the Needle

[Thelma Goth]

Lamont, Necropolis
The Core Worlds

Thelma walked slowly up to the door of her shop, taking in the newly restored facade. Bold lettering proudly announced the name of the establishment: Thelma's Tailoring.

There was no sign of the devastation that had been there just yesterday. A group of thugs had shot up the place a few months back, destroying everything in their path in their quest to kill Thelma. She had survived the fight and neutralized the threat with the help of her friends, but the damage to her shop had been extensive. The walls were riddled with holes from blaster fire and the floor was covered in dust and debris. It had been difficult for her to bear, seeing what had become of the place which had been her livelihood... No, it was more than that. It had been her sanctuary, her peace.

So when a wealthy client had offered to clean up the ruins in exchange for a custom-made wedding dress, Thelma had eagerly accepted - but she had doubted it would actually happen. But the client was as good as her word. Thelma had returned the next morning to find her shop had been restored overnight. The carbon scoring and dirt were gone, the holes in the walls had been patched, the furniture replaced. Her antique sewing machine stood proudly in the corner, good as new. They had even restocked her fabrics, the rainbow of colorful cloth piled neatly on the shelf behind her new desk.

It couldn't all be as it was, of course. Her lace collection, each piece unique as its maker, was gone forever. But it was easier to accept than the loss of everything. Finished with her tour, Thelma sat at her desk, grabbed a pencil and paper, and began sketching ideas for her next project.

It was good to be back.

Efret Farr​

 

[Efret Farr]

This trip marked the first time that Efret had been off Naboo in about half of a year.

Venturing into the Core Worlds after the Galactic Alliance's failure and its drastic shift to an iron-handed regime, even all this time, seemed ill-advised. It was ill-advised. Her past run ins with a certain Dark Side Elite had all yielded her survival, but always just barely. If one of them accosted her now—in the state she was now—she doubted that she either could or would fight them off.

That wasn't a product of grief or a secret desire to be punished for all that she had done for the Council, but of her deference to the Force. She was convicted of her sins. She also new that atonement wouldn't come at the end of her lightsaber.

It also wouldn't come of acting as an archeologist, which was why she hadn't even thought about visiting the Crypt of the Ancients.

After wandering Necropolis' streets for some time, Efret found herself at Thelma's storefront. The Jedi master reached out for the doorknob, gently twisting before cracking the door open and stepping inside. She couldn't, of course, hear if it was so, but she imagined the some tone or another announced her entrance.

Thelma Goth​

 

[Thelma Goth]

At the sound of the door chime, Thelma looked up from her sketch. That was new. She'd always relied on her senses to tell her when someone came in. Ah, well. The jingle was gentle on the ear, and she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She rose from her chair and left her office/workshop, which was located at the back end of the store. Sure enough, she spotted a woman near the entrance. In her excitement and eagerness, she called out, "Hello, welcome in!" before she had even gotten past the racks of ready-made clothes between them, getting only the vaguest glimpse of this new potential client.

"How can I help you?"

Efret Farr​

 

[Efret Farr]

In the short time that it took Thelma to approach her store's entrance, Nirrah scanned the sight before them. Colors and textures abounded.

Charming, Efret thought as a smile grew across her face. She did not see either the seamstress' greeting nor question, but did in the next moment spy her form moving behind the clothes racks.

"Hello," she said, her interpretation unit, now embedded in her necklace pendant, speaking as she signed.

She then paused and indicated with her hand to the convor on her right shoulder. "My friend here is my service animal." That much Thelma could tell by reading a little patch on the owl's flight harness. Normally, Efret wouldn't point out the obvious unless it was clear that it had been missed, but given where she was she decided to make an exception. "She goes where I go, but given the delicacy of your stock, I'd understand if you'd prefer if her and her talons wait outside." She gave one of her easy smiles to the stranger. "I would then only ask for a hand around the store."

Thelma Goth​

 

[Thelma Goth]

Thelma cleared the last of the racks, finally getting a proper view of the woman... and her bird. The animal's presence gave Thelma pause; when the woman began signing with her hands, she couldn't help but blink in surprise. Perhaps it was because she typically catered to more wealthy clientele who could afford all the amazing medical technologies the galaxy had to offer, but she couldn't recall the last time she had encountered someone with a disability, let alone one as profound as deafness or blindness. She was moved to pity - though she quickly squashed the feeling. People didn't like it when you pitied them. She had learned that the hard way.

A slightly tinny voice translated the woman's gestures as she explained that the bird was a service animal, and offered to leave it outside. "I trust in your judgment," Thelma replied. And in your ability to pay for any damage that might occur if your judgment proves poor. "What brings you into my shop today?" she asked, falling into a mode of easy professionalism.

Efret Farr​