an aid to laundry troubles

[unsheathedfromreality]

[At some handwave-y time shortly after the closing of the Story, a note in an workmanlike cursive hand goes up on the bulletin board:]

If you need a change of clothing, I can make simple tunics and trousers that won't disappear.

Find me:

[A simple doodle of Illarion's face follows: Pointy ears, long hair, blindfold (or veil), malar stripes. Enough to go on when most of the Library is human.

It is signed below the doodle with an eye-and-feather symbol. No name.]

IC UPDATE:

[A few hours after the initial post goes up, an additional sheet of paper is appended to it:]

Payment is not necessary but if you're one of those who can make or find permanent items, you can bring one of the following:

- Fabric
- Thread or gut
- Head/round knife
- Awl
- Leathering needle
- Raising hammer
- Pliers
- Portable anvil
- Hides or leather

NO glitter. We have plenty.

Comments

[not_scrap]

Um. I mean. Okay? Not the word I was thinking, but sure.

[That's what she gets for trying rhetorical questions. ] ....make us sound like mushrooms but ok.

Nothing personal but I'm an actual doctor and that's not technically possible, unless

uh.[oh no. Rauth was right. All this time. No, no don't freak out. Keep it CAAAAAASUAL. ]

So. You know.

Whose.

Uh.

Whose soul are you using? [It wasn't technically necessary: Rauth had had no soul but it was worth asking. Rauth also had a pulse, tho.]

[unsheathedfromreality]

I hope you're not eating your food still alive, but to each their own.

My own. Why I'm still a person. If I had part of someone else's we wouldn't be having this conversation. Would be trying to eat you alive.

Ghouls don't think much.