<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>June 2, 1875<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Bodega de Goni<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Agatha<br/><hr/><br/>The tailor glimpsed Agatha's frayed underthings as she moved to the vanity, into the company of half a dozen mirrors, still barely looking out of politeness. Like everything that happened at the bodega, this couldn't be rushed. A drawer slid out, and she fetched a clean hairbrush before coming up behind Agatha. Careful of the lenses and the delicate-looking filigree of the woman's goggles, she sank the bristles into Aggy's fiery hair and began to brush. She cleaned and sorted and restored the luxurious shine that Gomorra's dust had tarnished, gifting Aggy a well-groomed appearance that she wouldn't mind seeing in the mirror. "My customers, they like a personal touch," she said.<br/><br/>Each drag of the brush knew the curve of Agatha's spine, and swept out shimmering ginger threads while avoiding those irritating scratches to the skin. Freckled skin, she realized. Her eyes connected the dots as she gave the requisite hundred brushes that every modern woman needed each day. The tug of the bristles became lighter as the brush ran smoother and cleaner, a systematic rhythm like a rough lover turning gentle, leaving her more beautiful for it, more atingle in the scalp. Finally, when all of Agatha's hair flowed like a sheet of silk, she put the brush away. There was a slow exhale as she unwound the measuring tape from her shoulders.<br/><br/>"If you like the dresses, maybe try one on," she said, like the painter inviting a hand to touch the canvas. "They are made to be worn." Around to Agatha's front she stepped, making only brief eye contact. Those eyes, they were still the same, and remembering them made Onneca smile so wide. With a strum of the measuring tape, she reached beneath Aggy's arms and ran the thin line of it behind her ribs. A tight tug from one hand to the other encouraged Aggy to stand up straight, and perhaps, to move just a bit closer. Breasts touched through three or four layers of cloth and shyly retreated.<br/><br/><em>Put the measure around the body, over the dress, close under the arms, drawing it closely- not too tight. </em><br/>There was a ritual to it. The tape was already going taut as Onneca's fingers approached the top of a chemise-veiled breast, so that the backs of her nimble weaver's digits touched only once, and only to draw the two ends together. She was not so uncouth to name the number out loud. It would be more humble than a lady's usual measurement, taken over the shaping lift of her corset, but a tailor knew what all that really meant. Agatha more than measured up. Onneca's smile dimpled a bit.<br/><br/><em>Put the measure around the waist, over the dress. </em><br/>Around the small of Agatha's back, the tape sank. This too was a more relaxed measure, without the squeeze of the corset. Somehow, it was more intimate. She would make adjustments later to keep it accurate. "Everything is made by hand. I do not use those machines." She had not yet come to any conclusions about Agatha's line of work, and so spoke a little more freely than she ought. "They say those machines will replace a good seamstress. I do not think so. I think there is a place for good quality, and art. It is something a machine could not give." A touch just to one side and an inch above Aggy's navel took the second measurement.<br/><br/><em>Put the measure around the muscular part of the upper arm, about an inch below the lower part of the arm's-eye, drawing the tape closely- not too tight. </em><br/>For this, she lightly grasped Agatha's arm and led it to rest on her own shoulder. A little loop of the tape searched back over the billow of her chemise, to find where the shoulder ended and the arm began. "This place was much more clean before the ghost rock. We lived well enough without it, si? It is dangerous now. If you have the ghost rock on your land, they might shoot you for it. The only things I am getting from my land are crops. I am happy. It is enough."<br/><br/>That was all the measurement that was necessary. Still, Onneca sank to her knees. From there she did make eye contact, as though it were the proper place for her. The measuring tape kissed skin just above the hidden hem of Agatha's bloomers, and trailed down a firmly set thigh to the proper place for a dress hem. Her fingers alighted for a moment on Aggy's toes. Then she smiled again, and turned her head away, and took notes down on a small pad. They would forever be her little secret. "Would you like to try something on?" she asked, still knelt down, with a coquettish curve to her body.