Christina
The mothfolk's antennae and wings stopped their little movements as Aewerin finally spoke once more. Ah. One of these. She was always wary of people who were *Too* Flexible with their ideas. They tended to be the sort that had secret grand ideas they actually wanted executed, but lacked the descriptive skills—and the budget—to pull them off successfully.

She could make something nice anyway, nice and unobjectionable. She said faults and fissures? Well, she could work with that. Vhun thought for a moment, debating as to what to say. There had to be a good question to lead her in a direction as to what she wanted. Either way, she didn't anticipate this actually taking her that long. Hours, not days, at the very least. Slowly, her hands stretched forth, picking up her book once more.

*What color would you like?*

This was written and presented, Vhun then answering Aewerin's question with a gesture. She lifted a hand, wavering it. So-so. Wasn't unrecognizable, and she'd respond to it. She paused. Might as well show the right way. She had a feeling she'd ask anyway.

"Vhun."

Aewerin had been right, the first two syllables were a pronounced as a humming buzz, and the 'u' was largely not spoken. The last letter was more of a stop than anything else, though it did certainly notably pitch down. The mothfolk's voice did, unfortunately, provide absolutely no insight as to her sex, though it wasn't a particularly loud voice.
Ivan
After a moment of pouring over ponderings spilling and making a mess of her mind, Aewerin took the stone she was mucking about with earlier, and mushed it flat. What an odd thing, as if it was putty and not solid stone - though the slow flow of magic around it explained how, wordlessly. After it was flattened, Aewerin's hands floated above the surface, brushing and baking into it fissures and faults as the robes had, as she stares at it.

Then, with another hand dripping bits of metal scrap within, she molded it into lines of gold, like veins of ore, that made each break into a line like a bold, bright bolt of lightning, or a lantern-lit vein of gold deep in the depths of a mine.

"Does this help? I've got no talent for fabrics."

Though, the Elf tilts her head aside at the pronunciation. An ear flicked once, then again, as if tasting it, before she repeated it back with about as much closeness as her voice possibly could, before snickering.

"Vhunderful."

She sounded far too proud of that, as her familiar's forlorn stare aside at her seemed to curse her very soul to the depths of deepest hell for using a pun in its proximity.

"How long do you think that would take? I'll pay now- in full." She says, an odd way to proclaim quite a bit of trust rather than waiting for the result. However it came to be, Aewerin was apparently trusting of Vhun's workmanship.
Christina
Vhun leaned closer, eyes setting on the stone. It was quite the clever tool, really. A helpful one too. She had a feeling that the elf —Aewerin— didn't have much of a way with words. That wasn't any true fault though, few people did have any such talent. Vhun herself certainly didn't.

A color. That was good. And something that wouldn't take too much kind. One color, and a color she'd made recently. Though she didn't have any that was actual gold, it really did look nice. She wasn't willing to buy thread like that unless she already had a project paid at least half in full. It was an investment that would scare off most people. However, the use of her own dyed thread did made this significantly cheaper.

The mothfolk bobbed her head in response to the question, one hand lowering to pick up her pencil, apparently sketching the shape of what Aewerin had drawn. She didn't doubt her memory, but she did want the extra assurance that she was doing the right thing. Her hand lowered to her book, writing out her next statement in a careful, neat script.

*I could do this by the end of the day for twenty silver pieces. Less for longer.*

It was potentially a steep price, but Vhun expected her to haggle. It was the typical anyway. Besides, if this one was more wealthy than she looked, she probably wouldn't bat an eye at that for that price as a rush job.

She didn't acknowledge the pun, save for slowly tilting her head up to stare at Aewerin. This, she thought, would dissuade her from further mocking her name. That wasn't even the right way to say her name.
Ivan
The loss of the pun to a surly stare put the Elf's eyes to the back of her skull, rolled there out of an acquiescence to the Mothfolk's-... Abasement, apathy, animosity? Who knew. Aewerin certainly didn't. Though, she was beginning to suspect that humor was going to sail like a shredded sheet with this one.

Dropping it and rolling her shoulders back, she winces slightly at a low rumble from her lower back, crack-cracking back into place with a run of painful pops along the track of scar tissue hidden away under cloth and cloak. She might try to invest in a harness - but she feared reliance on it.

As Vhun took from the design and sketched the sample of the pattern Aewerin had prepared with her little tricks, Aewerin herself cleaned off the table with a slow wave of her hand, every speck of the dust and stone collecting itself and disappearing from the table, leaving a spotless lack of mess for the craftsperson. Aewerin otherwise blew upwards from her lips, bangs shot away from her eyes in a gesture that seemed all too well-practiced.

The price sounded about right - and so Aewerin fiddled with a pouch she kept well-hidden under her cloak, a decidedly quick set of clicks and clinks coming before a stack of twenty silver coins were offered.

"Don't suppose you care to chat much while you work? It'll keep my eyes from wandering overly much on other stalls with things I don't need."
Willie
The shadowy thing tilts its head, tut-tuting from the shadows around as ever in that strange resonance of its unfamiliar presence. 

"Or, you can banish her far and away. It might be for the best— you've gotten mercy from her tongue only because you can't banter back." The unblinking thing nodded to itself, sharing a side-eye with Aewerin that implied well a mutual bit of disdain for the other's mischief.
Christina
Now that a deal had been set in place, Vhun slowly reached out to pull the robe into her lap. She needed to get a better look at those tears, just to make sure there wasn't anything there that she couldn't comfortably repair. There didn't seem to be all too much risk of that, unless there was metal involved. Vhun drew the line at working with metal.

There didn't seem to be anything, at least, and so the moth began to root around behind her booth. She did have her thread here, at least some, including her yellow-gold thread. However, there was something to be said for the illusion of choice. She picked up a total of five colors, the yellow-gold, a brighter yellow, a bronze-brown, an orange, and a red-orange. All five skeins were settled in front of Aewerin, the mothfolk gesturing to with her lower set of hands to the threads before her. Her upper left once more picked up the charcoal stick.

*Which do you prefer?*

She waved her hands at the woman's words, a quiet noise like a laugh leaving her. It was a strange thing, a chittering, clicking hiss of a laugh. Once more, the moth picked up the pencil.

*I do quite like to chat when I work, however, I do think that you'd have trouble understanding me. I am not very good at pronouncing common words, and I don't think you speak Ivathi.*
Ivan
Among the colors, Aewerin seemed to be awash in choices- too many that she liked. Scrunching her brow and nose both for a moment, with a 'tk-tk-tk' pacing her thoughts through shut lips, she eventually leans and places her hands on her knees, looking at them level with the table's surface.

After a short while, she eventually glances those teal eyes up at Vhun, searching for a moment for pupils she had to remember wouldn't be there.

"Oh- the bronze one. It's a lovely shade." Standing up more straight, she breathes out some relief as her back relaxes once more. Though, the odd and all-at-once off-putting 'laugh' made Aewerin blink, before she realized what, precisely, it was. She brushes a fingertip under her nostrils, before drawing out a bound tome from her side.

Sitting nearby, she cranks it open on her lap, balancing on the edge of the table. With a hum of a curious little song, Aewerin glances at the writing as it was completed before looking back at the tome. Over and over her finger traced on a pace, as she mouths something to herself repeatedly. After a while - she whispers the words aloud, the air around her open mouth quivering with the echo of sorcery.

Then, she looks up, smiling at Vhun with a bit of snark still. "That should be better - I can understand it now - though only the literal meaning. Metaphors are doing to buzz past me." She says again, daring to prod with another pun.
Willie
Laying down more fully, the cat seemed to especially take interest in the process of sewing, watching Vhun soundlessly. Laying down seemed, still, to make no noise, save for a soft 'phf-' from the shadows around him. At times, it was like the cat was simply a projection of a familiar shape by something else.