<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/89/Onnecamug1.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Onneca de Goni<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>August 11, 1875<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Bodega de Goni<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Agatha<br/><hr/><br/>Her pulse raced at Agatha's fingertips. What on earth was the tinker doing? She was getting less dressed when surely the objective was to be more dressed. It was Onneca's job to see her well dressed while she was in the bodega. With a puff, she pinned the dress she'd been holding against Agatha's hipbones to cover that split in her dress. It was impossible to hold it there without Agatha's cooperation, and so she was twisting around in circles with Aggy. "¡Basta!" Her willowy arms went around Agatha, and she felt a slap against her wrist. That was how a slap fight started. Her delicate hands were paddling in the air, and her face was turned away from where her hands were meeting Agatha's in a rhythmless and finger-numbing clap she could not see. "¡No! Va a arruinar la ropa!" Every<em>r </em>was deliciously rolled and her voice was a squeak, and once she started to giggle, it was impossible to see the grown woman she'd become through the ten year old girl she'd been.<br/><br/>She toppled onto a changing bench and gave up her ridiculous struggle. Now she was certainly feeling the oppressive summer heat. Agatha's question begged to be answered. "Si, sometimes," she said, though that wasn't totally accurate. She didn't have to wish, now- she was a single woman, a woman with a place all her own for the first time in her life, and she'd already discovered that liberating freedom. She studied the face of Agatha, who perhaps didn't have the same freedom just yet. But why couldn't she? The bodega belonged to Onneca, and she could do with it as she wished.<br/><br/>Her work apron was deftly untied and pushed at Agatha's grasp in lieu of herself. That was the first layer. She was almost skipping as she unbuttoned her blouse, darting right out of the back room and into the empty shop. "So irresponsible!" The chemise beneath was no more revealing, but it was loose and light, affected by the gusting breeze, the tailor's unmentionables. She was sliding in her socks by the time she reached the bodega door. The latch was fastened, and the curtains drawn down, and with the summer sun still glaring in through the opaque fabric, she slipped out of her work dress. The world was so much more comfortable in her chemise and bloomers. The bodega air could enter through her sleeves and balloon through the cloth that ran from hip to knee. She was, yes, very free to move. She could slide up onto her tiptoes and pinwheel her arms to take the corners of the bodega aisles with youthful recklessness. "We will be punished!"<br/><br/>Onneca could match Agatha's mischief. As she waited for Aggy to peek her head out from behind the privacy curtain, her long fingers went into the spools of colored ribbon and gathered them like snowballs to her chest. It never seemed to snow in the Maze, but the spirit of the thing was the same. The ornery tailor cocked back a tidy roll of ribbon, and was ready to send it streaming and uncoiling at the first sight of coppery red hair. Her aim was not terrific. It would probably take five or six before she landed one.