Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
The young wick didn’t have his mother’s drive. Oh he wasn’t lazy by any means but if he could avoid doing something or better yet, do something that he actually wanted to do then that was obviously preferable. Of course, playing music on the street meant that he was reliant on others for his income as well but he didn’t feel as if he had to lick some bloody golly’s erse to ensure it happened, not that his kind were liked in Vienda. The Painted Ladies was an all right sort of neighbourhood and so he was able to ply his trade in relative peace and without the need for the permission of their lords and masters, the supposedly superior erseholes.
Not that it was his trade yet, busking on the streets, at least not full time but it would be soon. Shae had every intention of taking his chances away from the little apartment above their humble shop. As soon as he felt like the witch was suitably set up that she'd be comfortable in his absence then he would make tracks. Not that he'd go far of course; the teenager wasn't inclined to abandon his mother.
Not that she wasn't perfectly capable of being independent and Tessa was plenty capable. It was her who dragged him out of bed, brow beating him to wash and make himself presentable before they went to pay a visit to the new draper that had opened a shop in their neighbourhood. It was all about business and friendliness, the witch taking the time to bake some bread to bring over as a way to make a good impression and possibly forge important business deals - a cooperation. Except that it wasn't done purely as some savvy business move; Tessa actually wanted to welcome the woman as a newcomer and offer the hand of friendship. That meant getting up early to go see this stranger. Shae had to come along because it would be rude not to - so Tessa insisted, scolding him as she sensed his desire to protest before he even voiced it - and besides, if she ended up making a sizeable purchase, wasn't he going to help her carry it home? Didn't he want to introduce himself so this woman would know who he was if he had to run errands for his mother?
The older witch had a way of wearing on you, her son's easygoing nature no match for her stubbornness. So here he was at a pretty little shop with its windows filled with different sorts of fabrics armed with homemade bread while the smaller woman led the way, entering the draper's ahead of him. The redhead followed obediently, bell tinkling merrily as he ducked his head a little. The door was just about high enough to accommodate him but it was uncomfortably low for one of his stature and he had a weird paranoia that he was going to brain himself on the door frame or tangle his hair in that gay little bell given that he'd bundled it into a high but loose bun. If the strands caught then it'd be his own fault and while he'd be inclined to laugh it off, the sight of him held captive by the shop's bell sure to be a humorous one, he doubted that his mother would see the humour in it.
Today was the sort of day when Tessa's tight-lipped frown was likely to get a good airing - not where Ava Weaver would be able to see it of course.
Shifting his hold on the bread, the wick closed the door behind him gently, shuffling weight from foot to foot as he came to stand a little behind his mother in the centre of the shop floor. The witch was busy smoothing the material of her dress, seemingly unconscious of her actions as she turned a quick, critical gaze over her son's appearance.
"Smile, Shae. It'd be nice if you could look as if you wanted to be here," his mother commented, voice low so that it wouldn't carry, the woman managing to give the impression of someone looking sternly down their nose while actually looking up. There might have been a soft sigh and the youth had to resist raising a hand to his head as her gaze flitted over him, made conscious that he'd woven some flower petals into a little braid that was more like a dreadlock at this point and had dropped out of the messy bun. Tessa had no issue with him experimenting with his gender expression but he also knew that appearing anything less than strictly masculine could have its problems. Galdori could be shocked and scandalised, as could humans.
This Weaver woman was human, right? Was she going to get offended by some wizened yellow petals sticking out from a few woven locks of hair? He bit his lip, unsure.
"Well, I didn't want to come, Ma. I get that-" he began, breaking off when the woman moved from the back of the shop and his sullen teenage complaint was forgotten, dying on his lips. Instead, he found himself staring, gold-rimmed brown eyes huge as he gazed at the woman who... honestly didn't look like she belonged working in a place like this. He hadn't seen her since she'd moved in, his gallivanting ensuring that their paths hadn't crossed because if he'd seen her- Gods, if he'd seen her before-
"Hello there," he greeted huskily, feeling the exasperated flicker in his mother's glamour as he took a step nearer, moving around her, suddenly far more interested in this little errand of friendliness. "We've come to welcome you and see if we can strike up a deal that'd uh... benefit us both," he suggested, a definite attempt at flirtation there, possibly even a mistaken belief that he sounded sexy, all while he thrust the offering of bread out to her. There was a snorting sound that was hastily covered by a cough.
"Yes, hello, Miss Weaver," Tessa broke in, a mischievous twist to one side of her upturned lips. "I'm Tessa Taylor and this is my son, Shae. I know that you're new to the Ladies so I thought we'd greet you and see if we could set up an account. I think my name says a bit about my trade although I patch and wash as well as making clothing to fit. Our trades work together, I think. Not that I want to keep you from business, of course," Tessa assured her, good-naturedly.
"We wouldn't want to make you lose out on important customers. We're only a few doors down, we aren't going anywhere. We wouldn't... we wouldn't want to force our company on you. Just... if it suits."
Shae was only sort of listening to his mother. He was mainly staring and frankly, he'd forgotten that the woman who'd birthed him existed.
"Isn't that right, Shae?" she asked abruptly. The young man blinked rapidly, rising from a pleasant dream with reluctance.
"Oh... yeah, wouldn't want to- Don't want to bother, Miss Weaver, just... get to know you better." He leaned a little closer to her, magnetised.