Chapter Text
Wriothesley sews for practical reasons: a fallen button, a broken hem. A hole torn in a shirt or a pant leg from vigorous running and exercise. He even patches the uniforms for the Melusines who came to visit the Head Nurse and have accidentally pulled a part of their sleeves on some of the dangerous hooks and sharp edges scattered around the Fortress (though Wriothesley took note of them and have those removed or filed down).
Sewing never brings him much pleasure, and he never thought much beyond it, though it is a skill he’d picked up as a youth—a strange skill, nonetheless. He was raised in a more than affluent home without needing clothes or food. But it was when he found himself on the streets that Wriothesley realized it was an excellent skill to have, whether it was picking up scraps of cloth to sew himself a set of wearables or making a fine set of needles from throwaway metal cans as makeshift lockpicks, or taking odd jobs to help out in kitchens, illegal clinics, and the occasional garment shop.
Eventually, when he found himself in the Fortress as its new administrator, he found himself mending his first set of uniforms—protective clothing to be worn while doing his rounds in the lower zones of the Fortress—and all seemed worse for wear. With the deficits in the accounts, the Fortress was low on funds. With no ability to request an additional budget from the Court of Fontaine for new uniforms, Wriothesley found his sewing skills extremely useful.
Yet, on this particular occasion presented to him now likely demanded more than just his expertise at simple needlework.
“A charity auction?”
Sigewinne nodded eagerly, “We have decided to host a charity auction where we will auction special soft toys made by very important people in Fontaine.”
Wriothesley let out a long ‘hmm,’ a reaction he usually reserves when he needs more than a minute to think or when he may be seriously contemplating the situation.
“And what toys are you thinking about, Head Nurse?” It was ten in the morning, and he had not drunk a drip of tea yet. Documents piled high on his desk, and Wriothesley was looking for a distraction.
“Like these,” She replied gaily, pulling out two round fluffy balls from a bag and presenting them to the Duke. Wriothesley took one look and rubbed his chin. One looked like a shark, or rather a blob of a shark, with semi-circles for eyes and stitched white felt triangles for teeth. The other, he thought might be a bunny with no ears, turned out to be an otter with a smiley face that looked suspiciously like the Iudex’s when he was drinking some delicious water.
“Did you make these?” He asked as Sigewinne handed him the toys. Each was very well-made, the stitches almost invisible against the seams of felt and Wriothesley resisted a strange desire to squeeze the two toys in his hands.
But before he could, Wriothesley sneezed suddenly and held the toys at bay, and sneezed again, screwing his eyes shut at the abrupt irritation that took over his nose.
“Oh dear, are you catching a cold?” Sigewinne hurriedly took the toys away and tipped on her toes, placing her hand on the Duke’s forehead, “You’re burning up, Your Grace. You should go rest now.”
“Is it winter already?” Wriothesley rubbed a hand over his forehead and nose. He isn’t feeling at all feverish or unwell, in fact, he’d think he could go for a few bouts in the Pankration Ring right now, “I was too caught up with work, I didn’t realize, heh.”
“It’s November, but the first snow will fall in a few days, the weather report said,” Sigewinne returned the toys to her bag and moved away a pile of documents from Wriothesley’s desk. “Are all these records necessary? You could ask Monsieur Neuvillette to give you a few more days to work on them. After all, it is the festive period right now, and you should go see the Palais Mermonia!”
“What about the Palais Mermonia?” Wriothesley arched an eyebrow and moved the pile of documents where it was supposed to be.
Sigewinne settled into a chair, excited, “Oh. It’s all decorated for Wintertide! With fir trees, colorful lights, and sweets for everyone to eat. And Monsieur Neuvillette decided to host a charity ball, too!”
“A charity ball?” Wriothesley’s eyebrow remained finely arched, not withholding his surprise, “Monsieur Neuvillette is into such things? I didn’t know he enjoyed parties. It always seemed more like a Lady Furina thing, you know, the whole dragging him there to make sure he is there?”
Sigewinne’s smile widened. “We asked him for a ball so we could dance, have sweets, and have our charity auction!”
“Oh, you asked him for a ball,” Wriothesley muttered in a certain I-should-had-known tone.
“No, no, your Grace, not just me. Us ,” Sigewinne was quick to correct. She placed her small gloved hands on the edge of his table, leaning forward in threatening enthusiasm, “Are you going to be there? I know you hate socializing, but you have to be there. Monsieur Neuvillette would like very much if you are there .”
“I can’t promise, but I will try,” Wriothesley answered flatly. He stood and took his coat from the chair, an intermittent pause of a gaze falling to the bag of toys by Sigewinne’s side.
Wriothesley felt something akin to a strange, familiar twinge in his chest.
It was difficult to admit. The plush felt dolls are quaintly charming. He remembered a time when he patched a doll’s hands for a very young child younger than him. He remembered his fingers were pricked by the needle, but the child was grateful.
That child had also died holding that doll.
“Your Grace?”
Sigewinne furrowed her eyebrows.
“Those toys you just showed me, do you have more of them?”
Sigewinne pulled the otter doll from her bag and placed it on Wriothesley’s table, “You can have this one. There’s a little defect, so we are not auctioning this one. But, why do you want the toys, Your Grace?”
She rounded her eyes and wiggled her ears slightly as if making a debatable conclusion, “I thought you didn’t like these childish things. Anyway, this otter is yours if you want it. It doesn’t have a name…”
Sigewinne turned the otter around. The back of the felt toy was round and bare, “...and it doesn’t have a tail. Aeval, who helped with it, forgot to cut out a tail, and we ran out of felt.”
Wriothesley looked at the tailless otter and took it from Sigewinne’s hands. “Who sewed this toy, then? You said the very important people in Fontaine sewed it.”
Sigewinne got down from the chair and tidied her skirt.
“Monsieur Neuvillette sewed this,” She flourished her hands as if making a grand announcement. “I’ll get some medicine for you, Your Grace. Winter is a terrible time to fall sick, and you wouldn’t like it.”
“I’m not sick,” Wriothesley replied at once, doing the same flourish with his hands, “Save your medicine for the fellows in the infirmary, Head Nurse. We are low on budget this quarter of the year, and didn’t you say you wanted a shipment of ingredients to prepare a special Wintertide meal for the inmates?”
“Since you reminded me,” Sigewinne rubbed her knuckles on her head and sighed, “I will draw up a list of the things I need and send them to you by tomorrow. The wards need to be cleaned tomorrow, and that’s the only day we can clean them.”
Wriothesley held up his hand.
“There’s no rush. I’ll go personally to procure your ingredients overland. If you need me to send a letter to Monsieur Neuvillette since it is the end of the week, I could—”
He was interrupted by Sigewinne’s soft laugh, “There’s no need for a letter. We have already met for tea yesterday. Monsieur Neuvillette is keen to see you, though.”
“Me?” Wriothesley frowned, “Did I do something wrong now?”
Sigewinne’s laugh trailed into a small smile, “You should try to be more truthful with yourself, your Grace. You have turned down every single invitation Monsieur Neuvillette had sent, yet two days ago, you said there were too many boxes of tea, and someone should share it with us. ”
“Why, it’s nearly time for lunch, isn’t it? I’ll go to eat in the cafeteria today,” Wriothesley stood and collected his coat from the back of his chair, “Also, Monsieur Neuvillette keeps inviting me to parties. You know how I feel about those events.”
Sigewinne shrugged, tidied her skirts and made her way towards the office door first. She glanced over her shoulder before waving her tiny hand, “Sometimes, it’s better to be honest, your Grace. You’ll be happier.”
Wriothesley chuckled, “Do I look that unhappy to you, Head Nurse?”
Sigewinne only smiled and waved a quick goodbye before leaving the Duke’s office.