Christina
Vhun's days, as of late, had fallen into a pattern of her own work, errands, and various tasks around the home she shared with her sister. She wasn't opposed to this by any means, even if it wasn't the most exciting thing. At the very least, being cooped up in her work space had given her time to work on her own projects in little pieces. At least that was what she could tell herself. There was something rather annoying about not having any large swathes of free time. At least she'd been able to finish a new set of clothing for herself, even if it had taken months.

Even if it was a little frivolous to own the sort clothing of she did, perhaps there was something to be said for showing off what she could do. She enjoyed working to make clothing for those besides humans, especially those who were more difficult to fit, but those folks were rare to come across. Oh well. She was still good at making clothing meant to fit her own wings.

Today, Vhun was settled outside at a small stand, one that she'd taken to paying another vendor —one she was fairly certain sold some sort of cosmetic, based on the smell— for the use of for a few days every week. It wasn't a terribly profitable endeavor, at least in terms of the products sold, but it did allow for her to meet new customers. She did most of her work out of her home, after all, and people could only buy so many shawls and knitted things.

The mothfolk was less focused on the street today, and more focused on unraveling what seemed to be a shawl gone awry. She was hunched over on her stool, two of her hands holding the thing while two tugged on the yarn. It seemed the use of so many hands was less a necessity and more an act of frustration. Her antennae —the left of which was ever so slightly longer than her right — twitched furiously, her dark eyes, though they weren't all too readable, apparently focused on the item in her lap.

In terms of appearance, Vhun was an odd looking thing. Standing, she was just about five foot nine, and entirely androgynous, at least to human standards, in appearance. Her skin was a dark gray-black, the only contrast in terms of a darker color being her eyes, which were bulbous and quite insect-like. A shock of white hair cut across her face, spanning from just above her mouth —which was mandibulate— to the crest of her head between her antennae. The antennae themselves were a dark color, thin and almost threadlike. The rest of her frame was largely covered by clothing, a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black wide-legged pants that were near indiscernible from a skirt when she sat. The waist of these trousers were red-orange, the color gradient rather uneven.

Her wings, however, were the part of Vhun most likely to catch anyone's eye. They were folded behind her at the moment, stretching out like a strange banner. Only her longer forewings could be seen at the moment, these being black cut with thick lines of white separating her wings into block-like segments. These wings twitched lightly as she worked, the moth appearing rather irritated.
Ivan
Sauntering slyly between stalls, the slowly encroaching sorceress tries to keep herself hidden beneath a too-large hood. The sight of a mage might, maddeningly, invite far too much chaos. Stalls selling fake magical errata suddenly clearing, chased away, or worse- a tide of those that would want Aewerin to inspect their goods and wares. It was work she'd attend to, at times, but she needed the barest moment for herself each day for personal tasks.

And now, that was trying to find someone to help with a triad of tears in a pair of her robes, which she carried folded over her left arm, all hidden under the cloak that billowed as she crept between the crowds. Her back ached from the pace, but she'd force herself through it with a peaceable passivity for now. If she so much as made too strong a face, it'd attract the buzzards flocking about the bazaar here, dragging her into far, far too many attempted trades and tricks.

But, under the hood, the Elf's teal eyes shone especially bright, like a marble reflecting the sea at noon. At times, a pair of ears brushing the back of the hood twitched and stirred at different sounds, all while the woman hurried herself along. The appearance she had was oddly-... Muddy. Runs of brownish stain and patches of dirt or sand seemed to decorate all of her dress, from hem to heel. Besides that, a black cat of curiously dark color followed along at her heels, never seeming to bump into anything despite not adjusting its path.

And of all the things to catch Aewerin's attention here, a moth that looked just as frustrated as she would studying found Aewerin's gaze leveled at them, locked-on in approach. With a small smirk eventually settling on her lips from a mix of unspoken little snarks and thoughts, Aewerin leans in as Vhun worked, to whisper:

"Is it the project, or the day? I think I was interested in your work as soon as I saw how tense it was making you." *She snickers, teasing.*
Christina
Vhun had caught Aewerin in her peripheral vision several seconds prior to the woman stopping before her, but hadn't offered any indication of this. There were perks to having a near unreadable face, and only a fool wouldn't take advantage of such perks. She'd largely unraveled the shawl by the time the elf was upon her, one hand holding the thing, two unraveling and one wrapping yarn back into something resembling a ball.

She gave no indication that she'd even heard the elf until just about ten seconds after she'd spoken, after she'd finished fully unraveling her product. Vhun had time for a lot of things, and rude custmers were not among them. Slowly, the mothfolk lifted her head, all four of her hands settling in her lap, wrapped around the ball of yarn. Given that Vhun didn't have eyelids, she stared, unblinking, at the mage, mandibles briefly moving as she thought about what to say.

With what could almost certainly be identified as deliberate sluggishness, one of the mothfolk's hands reached down to a leather pouch at her waist. From this pouch, a set of parchment cards were produced, the moth shuffling through them. Her head did not lower in the least as she did this, instead, to all appearances, she was maintaining this unsettling eye contact with Aewerin.

After what felt like ages, a card was produced and shown to the elf before her. It was nothing special, just a rectangle of cut parchment missing its upper right corner. This appeared to be deliberate. There was one word upon it.

*Hello*.

The handwriting was neat, if not a little bit spindly. The mothfolk offered no other input than a soft click made in the back of her throat.
Ivan
Approaching closer and closer, now looming over the stall- somewhat. Perhaps out of interest to observe and see just how skilled Vhun was. Aewerin knew some of her kind, but not nearly enough to satisfy her curiosities. Blinking once or twice, she realized after a time that she wasn't going to get an answer for her snark.

As Vhun turned to look at Aewerin, the mage pursed her lips in an errant track of thoughts, looking at those big, unsettling eyes. Even if she'd seen such before, they still put her on her heel for a moment. That little stab in the back from seeing a sudden bug was amplified many times over, layered with an uncertain uncanny from the size. But, she found her mind after a moment, and redoubled her smirk.

Aewerin watched the withdrawing of the card with a curious little smile, and then a widening pair of eyes as she briefly glances around herself. From the ground, Aewerin grabs a stone that fit her palm nicely, from a loose cobble. Setting it on the stall's surface, after a brief brush-off with her palm, Aewerin traced a finger over the surface, with a small sound of scratching following shortly after.

On the surface of the stone, the words 'You too.' appeared, a surface level little etching appearing and then fading with a wave of her palm over the stone again.
Willie
The cat hopped itself up in the corner- whichever one was most shaded, as it seemed to stare as strangely as the mothfolk- at least to the sensibilities of any more typical passerby. But, it swayed its tail once, and then twice, avoiding sitting on anything resembling Vhun's work, as if it recognized such.
Ivan
The mage's finger traces again, the words 'Fix tears?' appearing, and after a minute again, fading with a wave of her hand, on her little stone to join in on Vhun's way of speaking.
Christina
Vhun remained seated, staring up at the elf. She was still as could be, save for her wings, which had very slightly opened. The inside of her forewing was just as vibrant as the exterior. However, the inside of her smaller hindwings, which now were partly visible, seemed rather drab. They were an off-white, and very slightly ragged at the edges. Perhaps, if Aewerin was particularly astute, she would be able to infer that Vhun had been an adult for a few years.

As Aewerin produced a stone, the moth's head gained a rather severe tilt. That was odd. Did she think she couldn't hear? She supposed that if this one was particularly naive, it wouldn't be too far off for her to assume that Vhun's delayed reaction to her presence hadn't been purposeful. Oh well. There were worse assumptions. She gave a little incline of her head at the first phrase, and then a more obvious nod at the second. She held up a three-fingered hand, indicating for her to wait, then returned to shuffling through her cards.

Three were drawn, being displayed in quick succession. 

*Yes.*

A card with its missing upper right corner.

*Show me.*

A card missing its lower left corner.

Then, after a beat of hesitation, the third.

*I understand your language.*

This was missing its upper left corner.

The moth paused, then produced a fourth card, also missing its upper left corner. Perhaps an organizational strategy?"

*I can't speak your language.*
Willie
"That's alright. Sometimes she pretends I can't understand her, too." *The cat-... Speaks? Snorts out, even, before it went to the dutiful task of licking its paw and massaging its own ears. The voice was an oddly quiet, spectral thing. In an implacable way, Vhun might sense that the sound only seemed to come from the shadow around her, not from the cat directly.

But, Murmur returned to flicking their tail, curiously watching the cards afterwards, and not speaking again. Familiars, damnable things.
Ivan
She tilts her head, here and there, at times with the subtle flick-flick of an ear under her hood jostling the fabric. A small hum comes as she reads the stones, peeking at times at the Mothfolk. She wasn't familiar enough to speak on their ages or maturity, save for some intuition that Vhun looked-... Worn? Aewerin chose to not comment on it, following along with the cards.

As she read a few of them, she shrugged, palms coming up in much the same snarky way as her earlier words. Though now when she spoke, it was far more sincere and gentle.

"I thought perhaps it'd be fun. You must only be spoken to often, here. I can speak - I didn't think you were deaf." *She snickers, and nods once more before pulling the robes free and laying them neatly wherever directed by Vhun. They were a deep green, with filigree of oranges, ambers, and rich browns that told well of her station as a mage by the influences of arcane script, or fragments of it, in some of the patterns along the hems. There were complicated pathways of fabric that kept it together, and it was hefty enough to be implicitly armored by some form of padding or hidden support.

Aewerin traces a finger along two gaping tears in the torso, and one in the shoulder, which each passed through much of the fabric and left loosened what wasn't cut. A simple cantrip wouldn't have matched the artistry of work that went into this, and it was clear Aewerin was looking for quality work.