Doing it right...

[DinkyInky]

(And here I thought the Sarge would make with a smartass comment of some sort...)

It's still early in the day.

[Just Old Al]

(And here I thought the Sarge would make with a smartass comment of some sort...)

It's still early in the day.

He'll be along,no doubt, with some commentary about oil leaks and electrical systems...

[FreeFlier]

(And here I thought the Sarge would make with a smartass comment of some sort...)

It's still early in the day.

He'll be along,no doubt, with some commentary about oil leaks and electrical systems...

Oil leaks . . . who has a Harley?

--FreeFlier

[DinkyInky]

EDIT: Thank you Al for the assist. Greatly appreciated.

Miss Annie and Daisy herded the female members of Club Alexander into a large bedroom with an ornate folding screen and closed the door. Emerauld was already there, with her bag and sewing things on a side table and a gleeful grin on her face.

“Ladies, Welcome to the first meeting of the Club Alexander Armor Association!” boomed Miss Annie. Standing next to her in human form and clad in a robe, Daisy smiled and nodded.

“For those of you who are wondering why we’re here, it was pointed out by our elven friend here” and Annie waved at Emerauld, “that there’s a lot she can do for those of us who are squishy and mortal. This likely isn’t going to interest you folks who look at flying lead as a tasty snack, but those of us who are mortals appreciate the thought of a little help.”

“Daisy, why don’t you show them the special we’ve got today.”

With that, Daisy slipped off her robe and laid it aside, to a chorus of OOHs and AAHs from the crowd. Daisy got a bit of a tingle from showing off to others – knowing what it could do for them. She really was becoming a clotheshorse, she thought…

Against her fair skin the dark silk glimmered, showing little shape of the lamellar armor underneath. The substantial straps up and over the shoulders, and the dark red trim shone with highlights of their own.

In short, it was a masterpiece.

Annie continued.

“Ladies – this is the latest in Elven Kevlar – it’s a combination of fabric and dragon scale. From what Emerauld says this will turn up to medium to large pistol rounds and leave you with one serious bruise but still breathing.’

“Does it come in a 28 H?” Monica, always the extrovert, asked. Jet poked her in the ribs, but Monica’s fascination with the bodice was obvious.

“It can come in anything you need it in."

Jet whispered, "But do you really want one? Seems to me it would be too hard to get off, and an absolute crime to burn up.”

“You do have a point.”

Smirking, Emerauld handed Monica a small, snow white scale before speaking.

"This is from a Frost Drake. Smaller than their dragon cousins, this one can resist very high heat. They are often found bathing in volcanic hot springs to purge themselves of frost parasites. Lined with this, your dignity will be protected. If you step behind the screen and disrobe, then wrap yourself in the cloak you see, I can show you."

Doing so, she came out, then when prompted, stood on the small capelet that was set on the floor.

"Fire when ready," Emerauld said, with a grin, and grinned even more at the stunned look on her face after she had tried, "Please touch the cloak. There is no heat."

Jet gingerly touched the cloak, and was surprised to find it not even singed. If anything, it felt like it had just been brought from the snowy outdoors.

"As you can see, I have more than a few tricks up my sleeves. I shall also have it tinkered, for I learned you change to yourself from a fixed point in time when the Phoenix flame surrounds you. Your mate has graciously provided me with ways to measure changes, to fit it to your...unique situation."

Blushing furiously, Monica looked at Jet, who shrugged, grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

Annie continued. “It even has a better trick. Daisy, lose the rest of the clothing and change for us.”

Stepping out of her briefs, Daisy removed her amulet, again becoming the magnificent dam she was in feral form. As it had before, the bodice shifted with her, fitting itself perfectly to her equine form.

If anything, the OOS and AAHs were even louder for Emerauld’s handiwork as they witnessed the change. Annie asked “Emerauld, would you explain, please?”

Emerauld stepped forward, pointing to the bodice. “It contains tinker’s work – it is made to shift with her form. If taken off it stays in the form taken off. It will work for as long as it is needed. I can do this for any who might need to change as well, though this may be difficult to do for those who do not retain a humanlike torso...well, not difficult, just...very...annoying...for me,” she said, the last being through gritted teeth.
She really disliked dealing with Master Tin'ceard...oily as a snake oil merchant, but he was the best.

Daisy changed back, and stepped back into her briefs. She really was becoming a two-legs…modesty now…

“Show them how it moves, dear. Notice that it’s not at all restrictive, bending, twisting or anything still works nicely because of the lacing on the scales. This will block but not restrict – it fits you like a second skin, but at the cost of some thickness under the clothing and a camisole or undergarment under it for those who won’t shape change. If you do shape change it needs to be right on your skin, or whatever is under it will get shredded.”

Annie continued her sales pitch – confident of her stand after the reaction to the demonstration. “So, ladies – who’s in? I know the golems aren’t likely interested, and I have to figure the Sphinx contingent is not in because of the restriction of flying with one of these things on.”

“I want one!” Cinnamon squealed in her enthusiasm. “Mom, you MINX! That looks GREAT on you!”

With that, the meeting degenerated to raucous female banter. The ladies gathered around Daisy, some reaching out a hand to touch the satiny material, others asking how it fitted and how difficult it was to wear.

“OK, come on folks – let’s get organized here. Emerauld will need to take measurements for those who want one – please sort yourselves out and let’s get with it.”

Emerauld was in her element. Measuring, chatting, marking the ones that would have to shape change and measuring their owners in both shapes she was a hive of activity and laughter.

Old, young, thin, zaftig, flat and well-endowed, she worked with them all with a song in her heart and prayers to her Gods on her lips. She would do all she could to protect them and help them, and the cost of the scale and fabric meant nothing to her if it helped them be safe.

Looking at her notes, she began the easy parts...sewing the basic bodices and crafting one lamellar liner.

Miss Cinnamon, Russet, Copper, Black trim, wild rose scrollwork. Tinkered.
Miss Annie, Red brocade and Scarlet with varying shades of red needlework.
Miss Tina, Waterfall silk with embroidered peacocks. Not vain, just something as dynamic as she reads.
Miss Amanda, Black, plain linen spun silk, practical.
Miss Georgette, Diamond white silk with silver or pearl white embroidery, Swans...her mate will understand that one, I'm sure. matching bottoms, in Diamond white silk.
Miss Monica, Shimmering black silk, firebirds, ice dragon scales, matching black 'boyshorts' scaled lightly for dignity. Samples of past size fluctuations, Tinkered.
Miss Katherine, Green, with Gold needlework.
Miss Atsali, Royal Blue silk, white roses, doublecheck Siren sizes for possible need of tinkering.
Miss Sarah, Shimmering Violet and Royal Purple with silver accents.

Edward, scale mail lining for suitcoat.

Huge bribe for Safyr to help by flirting with Tin'ceard. Very large, so she doesn't kill him.

Talk to Glytchie about "junk scrapped machines" to pay the lecherous tinker...offer to create something needed or wanted in exchange for carting it all away.

Satisfied it was complete, she began sewing.

[Sgt. Howard]

(And here I thought the Sarge would make with a smartass comment of some sort...)

It's still early in the day.

He'll be along,no doubt, with some commentary about oil leaks and electrical systems...

It is amazing how many little old ladies have slipped on the ice and broken their hip today... I have been in surgery since 0700 and it is nearly 2200... and tomorrow there are four more scheduled.
English car do not LEAK oil, they MARK THEIR TERRITORY... and the major electrical malfunction comes from shoddy wires that leak smoke! If you keep a can of LUCAS smoke in your toolkit, you need only top off the battery when something leaks smoke... after you seal the leak, of course

PTHTHTHTHTH!!!!

[FreeFlier]

One man's junk is another man's treasure . . .

--FreeFlier

[GlytchMeister]

English car do not LEAK oil, they MARK THEIR TERRITORY... and the major electrical malfunction comes from shoddy wires that leak smoke! If you keep a can of LUCAS smoke in your toolkit, you need only top off the battery when something leaks smoke... after you seal the leak, of course

PTHTHTHTHTH!!!!

Sarge, I would pay money to see you and Jeremy Clarkson meet.

[jwhouk]

(Psst, Emerauld: you forgot:

Miss Sarah: metallic purple-violet with silver accents.)

Sarah also mentioned during the show, when discussing scrap metal, that she and Joe live a few blocks away from a "recycling center" - aka Junk Yard.

[Just Old Al]

(Psst, Emerauld: you forgot:

Miss Sarah: metallic purple-violet with silver accents.)

Sarah also mentioned during the show, when discussing scrap metal, that she and Joe live a few blocks away from a "recycling center" - aka Junk Yard.

oops....sorree....

Re: Scrap: AHI no doubt has a boneyard that could easily be harvested if Joe and Sarah's lead doesn't produce enough. Never seen a manufacturing plant that didn't - and raided every one I could get into happily. The higher the technology, the better the leftovers.

[jwhouk]

---

"Well, of course we have a recycling center," Buck replied to Kath. "We keep a lot of stuff in-house because of our little 'trade secret'. You think Case International or John Deere would freak if they discovered we were a bunch of centaurs running a tractor company?"

[jwhouk]

And, on a completely separate note:

---

The bell rang on the door to the old antique store as a rather stout woman wandered into the shop.

"Jill!" A skinny figure slid out from behind the counter and hugged her big sis. "This is a surprise! Haven't seen you in a while!"

"Well, part of that's your own fault, Jet - you and M have been doing so much with her friend's wedding." She took a step back and looked at her little sister. "And my deep fryers at the restaurant miss you." This got her a playful smack on the shoulder.

"So what brings you over to this side of town?" Jet leaned on the side of the counter to listen.

"Well," she began, mimicking her sister's pose, "one of my wait staff - Mario? He got a call from that one group, Black Lives Matter?" Jet's face dropped a bit as she heard the name. "Yeah, that was my response, too. They were looking for someone to cater a protest they were having on the 19th."

"Aw, crap," Jet said. "Lemme guess, the Pillsbury A-Mill?"

"Yep. I made the connection, too. And no, though I got Shel and Justin a gift, you know I can't go. Saturday's our biggest day."

"Well, from the sounds of it, I don't think you'd want to go, either. There's some... stuff... going on that I can't really go into, but some people are really, really mad at Justin."

"And it sound like BLM is one of them," Jill finished the thought. "I think they got confused because we got that 'Best Of' rating from Insight News. Never been a fan of Sharpton."

"Same here. So they're going to have a protest outside the Mill on Shelly's wedding day?"

"Yeah, but they're having issues organizing things, from what it sounds like. Sharpton's cronies don't like our cold weather, and no one wants to come out during the last major shopping weekend of the year."

"Hm. I wonder if there's something..." Jet's face brightened in an instant. "I know! Lemme look something up on my phone..."

"What are you thinking? A counter-protest or something?"

Jet did some quick swiping on her Galaxy 5, then pumped her fist for a moment. "YES, they don't have anything going for that afternoon. Now, to see if I can get someone... I KNOW!"

"Jet... you have that look in your eye..."

Georgette indeed had the face of the cat that swallowed the canary as she tapped her phone. "It's perfect, but I just need to convince someone to do something..."

---

In the depths of the grand estate known as Paisley Park on the outskirts of Minneapolis, a phone rang.

An older, somewhat diminutive figure picked up a cordless phone and answered it.

"Hello?... Oh, Jet, hon, how are you... Well, no, I was taking a break... Hm. He's in town? Yes, I... Well, yes, I have a standing offer to play there, you know that... Hm, don't know if I have any new stuff I can try out... You know about that issue... Actually, that might be a great idea... I like it... Lemme make a few calls..."

---

"This just in: Local legend Prince will be playing a special afternoon concert at First Avenue on the 19th, to benefit the Minneapolis Police and Peace Officer's Association..."

[DinkyInky]

English car do not LEAK oil, they MARK THEIR TERRITORY... and the major electrical malfunction comes from shoddy wires that leak smoke! If you keep a can of LUCAS smoke in your toolkit, you need only top off the battery when something leaks smoke... after you seal the leak, of course

PTHTHTHTHTH!!!!

Sarge, I would pay money to see you and Jeremy Clarkson meet.

Seconded! Maybe petition Amazon to make this happen with their new show?

[DinkyInky]

Finishing the last few stitches, Emerauld looked on the pile of garments and smiled. Two more items to go...
With an almost musical sound, a lamellar liner appeared on the pile, followed by two chain sleeves, with rings so tiny, it looked like cloth, and a small pack, that she found contained scale "petals" made from drake scales.

"Usstan zhal'la naut inbal Bal'run hasstn a dosst request," Safyr said quietly.
"Usstan orn xun ussta alurl ulu refrain dal elggin ukta, lu'orn xxizz dos vel'xunduss l'tinkered it'x."

"I should not have gotten angry at your request"
"I will do my best to refrain from killing him, and will help you secure the tinkered items."

"But," she continued in common...er...English, "You must stop punishing yourself and working alone. Ask. For. Help. You have friends here. And me as well. Make sure you give this talisman to Jin when you finish this gown. Tell her it has been made ready."

Handing her a small box, Safyr turned to leave, only to be hugged tightly by her sister, who was openly weeping.

"I will. *sniff* I'll ask them all about *sniffle* the junk *sniff* scrap machines when I goto see Glytch later. Thank you sister. For everything."

"Thank you for...'having my back'."

Hugging her back, they then carefully packed everything but the dress components and talisman into her pack, then setting up the sledge for the scrap they needed to acquire.

[Dave]

With that, Daisy slipped off her robe and laid it aside, to a chorus of OOHs and AAHs from the crowd. Daisy got a bit of a tingle from showing off to others – knowing what it could do for them. She really was becoming a clotheshorse, she thought…

(Dave innocently whistles a few bars of "My Angel Is The Centaurfold")

This is going to be the most elegantly dressed pitched battle since I don't know when!

[jwhouk]

With that, Daisy slipped off her robe and laid it aside, to a chorus of OOHs and AAHs from the crowd. Daisy got a bit of a tingle from showing off to others – knowing what it could do for them. She really was becoming a clotheshorse, she thought…

(Dave innocently whistles a few bars of "My Angel Is The Centaurfold")

This is going to be the most elegantly dressed pitched battle since I don't know when!

Jet would say, "You've never been to Tokyo Fashion Week, have you?"

[DinkyInky]

With that, Daisy slipped off her robe and laid it aside, to a chorus of OOHs and AAHs from the crowd. Daisy got a bit of a tingle from showing off to others – knowing what it could do for them. She really was becoming a clotheshorse, she thought…

(Dave innocently whistles a few bars of "My Angel Is The Centaurfold")

This is going to be the most elegantly dressed pitched battle since I don't know when!

Jet would say, "You've never been to Tokyo Fashion Week, have you?"

Or the VS Angels fashion show(similar concept, minus cheesy music and costumes).

[GlytchMeister]

The next morning, Glytch awoke to find his formalwear had all been dry cleaned and, where appropriate, ironed, hanging on his bedroom doorknob. He took the hanger inside and hung it in the closet before taking a shower, dressing, and grabbing some breakfast.
He noticed Atsali and Jin were chatting animatedly about elven Kevlar, and thought nothing of it. What did catch his attention was Buck's behavior toward him.
"Good morning, Glytch!" He said, giving a quick, polite nod... And smiling?
"Uh, mornin', Mister Alexander..." Glytch blinked and decided to wait until his brain had woken up a little more to try and figure out what was going on.

After his usual large plate of eggs, sausage, pancakes, and potatoes, and one glass each of juice and milk, he went to his office and sat down to work.

A few hours later, Glytch looked up from his screens to see Emerauld in the office doorway, more than a little hesitant to enter the room.
"You aren't a fan of all this plastic, are you?" Glytch stood and stretched before following the elf out into the hallway.
"I am not overly fond of the poisons and chemicals your kind seem to surround yourselves in, no." She turned to face Glytch. "I need to ask a favor... I require assistance from a... Rather improper master tinker, and need to pay them."
"Ok..."
"Where can I get scrapped junk machines?"
"Well, I don't have any on hand, but I'm sure we can get some from the basement here. I'll have a look and see what I can find."
"Do you want my assistance?"
"I'm pretty sure you don't want to root around down there. If you didn't want to go into the office, you will definitely not like the crawl space."
"I see... Well, I will await you at my camp." Suddenly, she reached out and hugged him. "Thank you!"
Glytch, caught off guard, took a moment to return the hug. "You're welcome, Eme'..."
Once she departed, Glytch went back into his office and locked everything up before heading to the basement.

Edward, seeing Glytch coming down the stairs, cleared his throat loudly. "Young Master Glytch, a word please?"
"Yeah?" Glytch said warily.
"The next time you need to use the carpentry workshop, would you please be so kind as to vacuum up the sawdust?"
"Oh, crap. Yeah, sorry about that. Won't happen again." Edward nodded, satisfied, and made for the stairs. "Hey, wait up." Glytch called after him.
"Yes?"
"Uh, I need to scavenge some junk again, so you might want to check back in a while to make sure I don't accidentally take something you guys want to keep."
"I appreciate that. I understand you backed up that laptop, but not all memories are stored in binary."
"Right. So, maybe come back here in a couple hours?"
"As you wish."
Once Edward disappeared upstairs, Glytch turned to look at the basement. "Alright... Junk scrapped machines? For a tinker... Whatever that is, it doesn't sound like a computer kind of person. Still, the rest of that laptop might be worthwhile..."

Glytch continued digging through the huge basement, going down oddly placed corridors and into rooms without any lighting at all. Several times, his hood was completely masked over with cobwebs. In total, he uncovered a plethora of seemingly ancient items... Even a ye olde plow that seemed to be fitted for a centuar that creaked if Glytch so much as breathed in the same room as it. The pile of junk machines he found grew to be fairly substantial, including an old gas weedwacker, one of those cylindrical grass mowers, a seed spreader, a broken pneumatic drill with its own air compressor, and a bent and broken watch.

Edward returned and let Glytch keep everything but the watch. "I am surprised you went so far down as to find one of the first plows the Alexander family ever sold... This watch belonged to the man who made it, and as such, I'm afraid it's an heirloom."
Glytch nodded and shrugged. "Shame it's all busted up."
"Mmm... Indeed."

Thirty minutes later, Glytch had hauled everything upstairs and outside into a wheelbarrow, and proceeded to push the entire load out to Eme's camp.
As soon as he was near her hut, Glytch dropped the wheelbarrow and stripped off his coat and hoodie to cool down.
"Hi Glytchie!" Emerauld emerged from the hut with a cup of tea in one hand and a mug of Vanilla Coke in the other.
"Hi, Eme', ooh, thanks!" Glytch took the mug and drank several hearty gulps before continuing. "Here's what I found that Edward let us keep." He led her to the wheelbarrow and named everything to her. "Careful with the weedwacker. That tank used to contain an oil-gas mix."
Emerauld gave him a questioning look.
"Uh... It's nasty stuff for elves. That's all you really need to know, I guess. Even humans know it's nasty."
Eme' prudently handled the weedwacker with care, making sure not to touch the cap or the tank, as she wrapped it in burlap and placed it into a pack.
"Thank you very much, Glytch... This will help enormously." She smiled brightly as she began to rummage through her packs. "What can I do to repay you? I will have to ask the Alexanders as well..."
"Uh... Eme'?" Glytch furrowed his brow.
"Yes?"
"Are you trying to find something to pay for this stuff with?"
"Well, of course I am!"
Glytch sighed and pressed a hand against his forehead. "But... It's junk. Trash. Uh... Waste?" He had to try a few words before he found one that Emerauld seemed to understand.
"What... How is this waste? It seems perfectly useable to me!"
"Oh, boy. Um... Ok, what would you do with the organs and offal from an animal you had to kill for food and fur?"
"Well, I would bury it, so that the plants could benefit from the nutrients I cannot partake in."
"Right. This stuff is like that... But you can't just bury it. Disposing of this stuff properly requires a lot of complex, difficult, and long-term effort. So most people around here pay others to do the disposal for them. If anybody is paying anybody, it's the Alexanders... They would be the ones paying you, not the other way around."
Eme' shook her head vigorously. "There is no need to pay me, these items are payment in and of themselves."
"Well, then, that's that." Glytch eyed his friend's unconvinced expression. "Hey, trust me... It's alright. If you really want to pay them back, help keep people safe and keep Nodaki's forces at bay in the coming battle. That will be enough to pay all of your debts to everyone here. Got it?"
Finally, the elf relented and nodded. "Very well... But not being indebted will not mean I shall be gone forever."
"Good... I wouldn't want to lose a friend."

[DinkyInky]

Placeholder for part three of tailorpalooza. Better safe than sorry, don't want them out of order.

Thank you Al for donating to the cause...and for helping write some of Al's dialogue.

Al went out to the ambulance - now housed in the garage with the other vehicles. Having had its engine replaced, the leaks had been reduced to a level where a pan or two of kitty litter kept it from marking its territory too badly.

In the locker in the back were some spares that he'd never use again - an injection pump, set of injectors and the requisite high-pressure lines. As Emerauld was looking for items for the tinkers these would be good - lots of precision machined items and as they were freshly rebuilt nothing but storage oil on them.

Okay, where is it....AH!

Grasping the hermetically sealed packages, he set off back to the house, checked in with Rosalita, and found out Master Glytch had already hauled a barrow-load of items out to the Willow and Emerauld's camp. Walking out there himself through the snow, he could see the trail of a wheelbarrow pushed by a set of boots that looked familiar.

"EME!"

"Why kind sir, what are you doing here today?" This voice came mere inches behind Al's right ear. He sprang forward and then whirled, nearly dropping the packages he'd been holding.

"Damnit, Emerauld! Don't DO that to an old man! And don't call me SIR!"

Standing just behind where he'd been, Emerauld giggled, then noticed the packages Al was carrying. "What are those?"

"These are components that I had stored for replacements on the old engine in my ambulance. As I no longer plan to use that engine or its type again, I don't need them - so I decided to donate them to the cause. The tinkers will enjoy these parts - they work with very high pressures and have very finely finished parts inside of them."

"Thank you! Are you sure you will not want them again - I do not want to see you give to the tinkers anything you may be able to use."

"No, that old engine will never be missed with the new one I have. I would give you the entire engine, but I'm afraid it would be far too heavy even for that storage bag of yours. On another note, you need have no fear of these components - after being rebuilt they were stored in sealed packages and have never been used - so are still clean."

"I do have a sledge we built to deliver everything, but if you are sure it is too great a weight, I will gratefully accept these."

Emerauld could smell the oils on the "clean" components - she didn't want to offend Al, but even the storage oils were nasty poisons. However, the tinkers would be pleased - and that's all that mattered.

"Thank you, kind sir. How can I repay you for these?"

"DON'T CALL ME SIR!" he bellowed, as she stifled another giggle. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

"No payment is needed, Eme. I am happy to donate them to make up a little for the work and all of the materials you're using for this project. We should be asking what WE owe YOU and how to pay you!"

"Nothing is necessary - Safyr is here to help, as am I."

"Well, we will need to discuss compensation for you at some time - please remember that."

Emerauld nodded as Al headed back for the house and his couch, and she added the Diesel parts to the sledge.

Using the portals with the sledge had been tricky. Brandi had to assist and set up a temporary one-way once she had been informed the sledge would not be returning, they could use the library travel system from their own library.

Making double sure they wouldn't be found out, they used both mask and talisman, and transformed into drow, Emerauld, the one she has been using, and Safyr, into one identical to her sister. She assured her sister most males of his...proclivity 'had a thing for twins', so Tin'ceard would most likely be double irritating, and it would take much...diplomacy to accomplish their goals.

Riding on sledge felt better than the last time she made the journey. Coming to the series of doors carved into the craggy rockface, they stopped it just in front of that oh-so-dreaded door.

Emerauld then rapped on it.

Tin'ceard called from the other side, predictably, "Whatever you are selling, I am not buying."

This time, both sisters called out in lilting synchronicity,

"For tinkered items here am I,
A wandering traveller, here to buy

For bartered trinkets, or modest coin,
For tinkered items I enjoin."

"I am still on holiday!"

Both:

"What a pity. We were hoping the Great Master Tin'ceard would dazzle us with his skills, as we have more challenges, as well as another 'Centaur special'."

"Why should I? You are not a bit fun at all."

"My sister wanted to meet you. She has heard incredible tales of your legendary skill."

"Sister?" At that, he opened the door a crack and peered out.

"Oh my GODS! There are two of you! Soooo...which one wanted to know all about me?" he said, leering, and sliding between them.

Both: "That would be telling."

Emerauld began, "We have many items to barter with you to create masterworks with, including parts from something the humans call 'an engine block', which I am told is very clean and stored in oil to keep them pristine..."

Safyr continued, "...some 'laptop' parts, this one machine here apparently culled troublesome weeds and uses foul things to power it, this one apparently is a grass mower, a machine used to cut the grass level down to a rich, green carpet, a seed spreader for casting grass seeds...these humans are obsessed with a short, green carpet, and work tirelessly to keep the small areas perfect. They have many other machines for that use. Many 'See arr tee computer monitors', they apparently are so fashionable they replace them on a whim."

Emerauld brought out the bodices for Cinnamon and asked for the 'Centaur Special', then the Firebird one and explained the expanding bustline, which prompted a comment of the likelihood of a visit from it's grateful owner.

"Well, she is very shy. I am helping her so as to bolster her confidence(actually I am saving your tiny perverse miserable hide, so she does not tear you to ribbons, sic her demons on you, then if you are lucky, she will leave you only gibbering)."

"This one," Safyr said, pulling out Atsali's, "Is for a siren hybrid. These need to change with her forms. She is a CHILD, and very awkward(only socially awkward, she would tear your head off in a thrice if your warped thoughts made her feel threatened)."

"No fun at all," sniffed Tin'ceard.

Safyr, slinking towards the gnome, drew out two bottles and set them on the table, then leaned slightly forward.

"I have been told these are the finest spirits made from exotic fruits in the human world. Each bottle contains the fruit of ninety nine banana and cherry trees. This bottle is supposed to taste like a fine cake," she said in a purr, placing it and three glasses on the table.

Understanding dawning on Emerauld, she replied, "A just reward for the Master."

"So you do care! You saucy minx! It is definitely a deal! Hey, let's..." his voice trailed off, then returned with vigor, "...get this work out of the way first. I know you just love to watch, so I'll make room...plenty of room." Wagging his brows, he moved to and fro, clearing room, walking purposely too close, touch lingering just a second too long, and loosing more ribald innuendo as he began to work.

"Please give me the strength to resist killing him," prayed both to their Gods.

Later...

Sipping very slowly from their tankards, they chatted about topics that would bolster his ego to bursting.
Before long, he started to wobble, and as he made a grab for them, he fell backward and hit his head, knocking him senseless.
They carried him back to the cot in the corner, and laid him down, covering him with the blanket there. Emerauld cast a timed heal(as she had no wish to do permanent harm), and turned to leave, noticing her sister leaving garments behind. Quirking a brow at her, Safyr shrugged, then whispered,
"Let him wonder, for I doubt he will remember. It is just some of my older things I have no use for."

"Sister, you are really evil, you know that?"

"Yes," she said, smirking, "and I have the scars to prove it. I shall tell you of the delightful ScaleTail I brawled with before we began this journey. I could feel each claw as it tore across my..."

"Ugh! Not listening!"

[lake_wrangler]

Placeholder for part three of tailorpalooza. Better safe than sorry, don't want them out of order.

When you guys put up a placeholder, do you actually go back and fill it in the saved spot? Because I have not noticed any post saying "Hey look: my placeholder has been filled up with text!" (with a link pointing back to where the placeholder was.)

I just don't want to miss out on anything...

[Sgt. Howard]

Patricia Hazelton, Paddock name 'Dusky', studied the article one more time, how the Alexander family had befriended a multitude of two leggers in the Minniapolis area, including a daughter-in-law who was a mortal female! The rundown of the family included the two sons, the one daughter and the Grand Dam herself, Mrs. Rosalynd Hamelton-Alexander... paddock named 'Daisy'... and their substantial holdings... but the land held no interest to the twenty- three year old filly-
She kept looking at the picture of Franklin Pierce Alexander... paddock name 'Rowdy'... and drawing heavy sighs. Long, lean barrel, square chest and butt, well- developed (if wirery) human torso, a downright stunning smile... her tail could not keep still.
She looked at herself in the mirror- Dark, copper skin, shock straw colored tail and mane, delightfully plump (centaurs prefer healthy looking females), huge golden irises that remained big in her human form... and that hang-dog expression from living among cousins and siblings without chance of finding a mate among her own kind. The little enclave in Vermont where she lived offered nothing in the way of such things...
She then studied the article about the BLM protest of the shooting death of two Black kids in the same town- and payed attention to how the Officer in the center of the pile-up was;
1) mentioned as a friend of the Alexanders in the first article, and
2) said to be getting married in December at the old Pillsbury Mill.
She had put this plan together ever since she first read these two facts... of course, she had no intention of mentioning her plans to her own indominable Dam- she instead told of how she was going to Gettysburg PA to study some family history and would be staying among humans... thus the change of diet and habits... and Dam Hazelton offerd no argument, figuring this would broaden the child's horizons. Her indulgent Poppa also agreed, but gave fair warning that "there's more divilment outside of Vermont than the Almighty himself can catagorize," and to be careful and prudent-

... if only they knew...