Shawn
Business had, unfortunately, been rather slow for the mothfolk known as Vhun, and she'd found herself with abundant free time. She didn't like this, given that an abundance of free time meant a shortage of income, but one could make do. Azai, at least, could make use of her time. That was why Vhun had found herself at this market again. It wasn't that the market was good, but rather that she'd seen fabric here that would potentially match Azai's newly ruined bag. It had been a gift from Vhun herself years prior, and had recently become the victim of heavy books tearing right through the bottom of the thing. It needed to patched, given that Azai was unwilling to part with it.

The mothfolk had settled herself in front of a table of fabric, fabric that she'd determined to almost certainly be secondhand. That was what she was looking for. Though the integrity of such things was questionable, she was very certain that Azai would be more careful in the future. That, and the newly patchwork bag would look a bit less odd if all fabric looked about the same age. 

Vhun was quite caught up in her thoughts, but she was not entirely ignorant of her surroundings, given that the nature of her eyes allowed her quite the range of vision. She was an odd looking woman to say the least, being best described as insectoid. Her eyes were her most prominent feature, these being overlarge, bulbous, and a striking shade of black. Her skin was a fairly similar hue, a dark gray barely distinguishable from the color of her eyes. This gray was broken up by a streak of white fur-hair that blazed across her face, spanning from between her antennae to just above her mouthparts.

Despite her insectoid nature, Vhun was dressed quite nicely. The majority of her body was covered by a long black jacket, one that was clearly made specifically to fit the lanky four-armed woman. From behind, little of the detail could be seen, save for the long slits cut to accommodate Vhun's wings. These were impressive things, nearly as long folded as Vhun was tall. The larger forewings were white crossed with almost geometric shapes of black, the hindwings being a rather striking shade of orange blotted with similar black shapes. These wings were slightly open, as if providing a sort of barrier to keep people from getting too close to the rest of the mothfolk's body. Her lower set of hands too were held in an odd position, the right settled on a pouch at her hip and the left held rigidly partway out from her frame.
James
*Fabric was always in need when one was engaged in sailing. Zephyra had learned her lesson on that particular point long ago - when she had first set out with her captain and their crew, the men had been wearing threadbare clothing, and none had seen the need to improve their condition. That simply would not do - and though many of them were handy with a needle and thread, it was not enough to be handy. One needed the proper material, clean and plentiful, for bandages and skirts, whatever the case might be. 

So it was that the elven woman entered the Crasmere market, stalking amongst the lanes for a good seller of fabric. Both sackcloth and silk were in need, and a bolt of each would do the captain well, along with good strong material for patching sails. As she looked through the market, her eyes alit upon a stall with various strips of cloth laid out - secondhand, of course, so as not to deplete their hard-earned money, but some secondhand shops could be gems in the rough. 

Still, one tended to get what she paid for, unless the merchant was unintelligent or exceptionally kind, and from what she knew of merchants, precious few were willing to bankrupt themselves in search of kindness. With head held high, she settled in alongside a rather peculiar-looking mothfolk, beginning her search for the strong cotton first - something that would hold up against the wind.

Zephyra was a relatively sturdy looking woman, fit as an athlete, with with hands used to work and a well-proportioned form. Her nose and jaw were striking, and her eyebrows were strong. Many scars striped her hands and forearms, a mixture of knife marks, rope burn, and regular burns.*

_ _
*She had put on a sensible skirt of navy blue, a blouse of white, and a jacket of the same navy, with a white scarf bundling her hair back and covering her head, and a wide sash of navy and white stripes tied around her waist. Into it were tucked a dagger, intricate in its brass engravings, and a long cutlass, of the same make, with a wooden handle and elaborate brass scabbard. As she eyed the display, her focus turned to Vhun for a moment as she spied a glimpse of a rough beige homespun that might fit her needs on the other side of the mothfolk.*

"Is that burlap?" *She asked, voice high and clear, indicating the taupe fabric with a quick point of the chin which seemed to stay aloft like a pennant in the wind.*
Shawn
The mothfolk didn't move to acknowledge Zephyra, though she did shift her gaze toward the woman. This required no movement at all, given the nature of her eyes. Really, given that they appeared to be little more than inky pupiless pits, the woman was more than confident in her ability to stare with impunity. This woman did seem a little strange though. Especially that weapon. Slowly, her head turned very subtly in the direction of Zephyra, examining her. The two were the same height, though very different in terms of species. Her clothing and scars were what truly caught her attention. She was rather scarred, and while that wasn't all too odd, it was noteworthy, especially given the lack of effort to cover them. Ah well. It wasn't her business.

Besides, staring was rude.

Good thing she wasn't obvious about it.

Vhun's antennae —the right of which was very slightly shorter than the left—twitched rather severely as she was addressed. Her gaze shifted to the fabric. Yes, that was very clearly burlap. She had to hope that the question was hypothetical. Slowly, Vhun turned her head toward Zephyra, regarding her with an unreadable stare before she spoke in Ivathi.

"No, that's obviously silk."

The tone in which the sarcastic statement was spoken did not match the words whatsoever. Instead, she was relying on the assumption that this woman didn't speak a word of Ivathi, and would instead take the friendly tone as a means of affirmation. It was more than likely that Vhun's words would sound like little more than hums and clicks to Zephyra. However, there was a warmth to her voice that did suggest she was being friendly. As she spoke, the mothfolk reached out to pick up the large piece of burlap in her two left hands and offer it to Zephyra. 

"Here."

Once more she spoke in Ivathi, waiting for the woman to either speak in return or express confusion.