The young woman knelt on the grass, carefully sewing the edge of a heavy, black material. There was a small knife clamped between her lips, and her expression was the very picture of concentration.

Severance approached slowly, careful not to disturb her. Not that it made much difference; his footfalls were as soundless as the shifting shadows of night. Even without conscious thought, he flowed across the ground without a sound or trace.

Some of her dark hair had pulled free from its leather tie, sticking to the side of her damp face. Sunlight shone down on them, warm and bright, and it caught the slender needle in her fingertips, which flashed every time she drew it through the material.

He smiled to himself and sat on the grass across from her. With a quiet sigh, Vast settled down beside him.

The needle paused. Mouna glanced up.

Her dark eyes immediately found his. She wasn't one to smile, or even show much of what she was feeling, but he'd learned to watch her eyes. They often gave away hints, and he saw one now as they seemed to soften, the sharp line of focus fading away.

He lifted a hand and made a simple hand sign. Hello.

She took the knife from her mouth, set it aside, and signed back solemnly.

Hello. How are you?

He made the sign for well, which was true, because at this moment, he felt pretty good. Somehow, everything else seemed to fade away and become unimportant.

She tilted her head, just a bit, and simply looked at him in silence. He looked back, taking in the way her sunlit cheeks seemed to glow. She was, he thought, really nice to look at.

He leaned forward. What are you making?

This close, he could tell the material was a type of leather. It looked soft and pliable, and he wasn't sure if its natural color was black or if she'd dyed it. The Veiled never wore anything other than black. He'd asked Maun about it once, but never got a straight answer.

Wait a while, she signed, and resumed sewing.

He watched, finding the steady push and pull of the needle to be fascinating. Sometimes, she used the knife to cut the thread before tying it tightly in a tiny knot. Then she stretched out a fresh length of thread, often twisting two strands together to thicken it, and stitched another section.

It looked like delicate and complex work, and he admired her for it. There was no way he could create something as skillfully as she.

A chime rang out, signaling a system notification. Severance sat up straight.

You have received a message from Chad. Do you want to Open Message?

"Yes," he said.

When Mouna glanced his way, he signed, message from friend. Without showing any reaction, she returned to her work.

Chad's message was extremely informative and deeply complex, for his response was an elaborate:

"Here."

That was it.

Severance snorted. It was a miracle that the man even managed to communicate as well as he did. He sent a return message:

"Okay, thanks. I'm just waiting for everyone else to log in, and then I'll be doing the raid. I'll talk to you after."

The response he got was: "Yes."

That highly stimulating exchange over, Severance returned to watching Mouna. Only now, she was setting aside her tools. His gaze followed her as she rose, lifting the material that she'd been working on. She shook it out, letting it unravel to its full length.

Severance's eyes widened.

It was another coat. This one was somewhat similar to the last one he'd ruined, as it was long and sleeveless and had a cool collar. But that was where the similarities ended. This one had a couple buckles and a belt to hold it closed at the waist, but it immediately flared open at the hips. It also had a deep, V-shaped cut for the chest, exposing more than the last coat did.

Come here, Mouna signed.

Stunned, he did as she asked. She held the coat out for him, helping him slip it on over the plain long-sleeved tunic and trousers that the Veiled wore. Her touch was light as she pulled it closed and fastened it, but he was oddly aware of where her hands were the entire time.

Eventually, she stood back and looked him up and down with a critical eye. Her lips pressed together, a sharpness to her eyes, and she signed for him to wait.

Before he could respond, she jogged off around the corner of the building, leaving him alone.

He looked down at his new attire and brushed careful fingertips across leather and tiny, uniform stitches. His face grew hot, even as a warmth grew within.

She'd made this. For him.

Those two facts swirled in his brain on repeat, like two fish swimming around in a toilet bowl, fighting gamely against the current as all cohesive thought spun down the drain and washed out to sea.

He might have stood there in a daze for a long time if the System hadn't chimed at him.

You have a new message from Jack Coyote. Do you want to Open Message?

He blinked, and then gave himself a good mental shake. "Yeah. Open it, please."

Jack's cold, blunt tone came next. "Severance. We have a problem. Ironhide can't make it. We are also down two dps. Getting dps shouldn't be a problem, but finding a competent tank will be difficult."

"Well, hello to you too," Severance muttered.

He could read between the lines of Jack's message. Carrying two new dps players through a raid was doable, but a tank held more responsibility. If they fell or slipped up, chances were they could drag the whole raid down with them.

He considered this for a moment. And then he smiled. He knew a very capable tank. Question was... was his level high enough?

He sent another message.

"Chad, what's your level? Our second tank quit, and we need someone to fill in. It's for the robot raid I was telling you about."

The reply came almost immediately.

"46. When?"

"Ha." Severance's smiled widened. Perfect. He sent Jack a message saying he'd found a good tank, and that he'd leave the dps up to him.

He'd have to go over the mechanics with Chad, but he had full confidence that the man would pick them up quickly. Chadley had an eye for detail and he remembered even the smallest of things. And as a tank, he knew exactly how far he could push things. After all, he'd been the one to introduce Severance to the wonders of wall-to-wall pulls, where he collected an insane amount of dungeon mobs and then locked them down while the team dealt with the rest.

Mouna came back not long after with a dark bundle in her arms. She separated them into two piles on the worktable.

Take it off, she signed, and held out a hand. He did as she asked and pulled off the coat. She took it, shifted it to one arm, and pointed to the piles on the worktable.

Put those on.

Curious as to what she brought, he went over and took a look. The one stack was all pants. The second, long sleeved shirts, but shorter than the usual style he found in the communal laundry room. In addition, they all seemed to be made out of a different material. Thicker, with a bit of stretch to them, and when he ran his hand against the fabric, it was like tiny scales scraped at his skin.

"These are...?"

He wasn't even sure what to say. Not only did she make him a coat, but she also produced several sets of clothes?

Put them on, she signed again. Her eyes narrowed just a fraction, as if growing impatient with him.

He looked at the pants in his hands. Then he looked down at the pants he was currently wearing. She wanted him to... change right there? In front of her?

He looked around, and saw no one else in sight. It was just her and him there. And Vast, who didn't care about anything as long as he had Severance in sight.

"Okay," he said slowly, trying to ignore how his entire face decided to do its best impression of a simmering volcano. "Can you turn around though? Please?"

Mouna stared at him. There was no telling what she was thinking. He waited, not daring to even move a muscle. She abruptly spun around, showing him her back.

He released a breath in relief. Before anyone else showed up, or before she decided to turn back around, he quickly changed into the new pair of pants. It was a closer fit than he was used to, but the stretchy material was a lot more comfortable. She'd even thought to sew in a softer lining to protect his skin from the scratchy exterior. The shirt was much the same.

"Done," he said.

She turned, her eyes immediately looking him up and down with a critical eye. It made him feel quite self conscious, to bear the brunt of such focused attention, but he did his best to hide it. After all, she'd made these for him. He didn't dare let all that work go to waste.

Good, she signed.

She passed him back the coat, a decidedly pleased look in her eyes.

He put his old clothes back into Inventory, and pulled on the coat. The new style of clothes suited it much better than the old. He smiled awkwardly, unsure of how to even begin thanking her.

"Mouna, I-"

She didn't let him finish. She moved in, adjusting the collar for him, and tightening one of the buckles at the waist. He stood helplessly, letting her do as she wished.

Once she was satisfied, she looked up at him, and patted his chest, where the coat lay open to reveal the shirt beneath. He froze, the breath caught in his throat.

Strong, she signed, followed by a twist of the fingers that he didn't understand. He hadn't seen that sign before.

What? His heart gave a strange flutter of disbelief. Did she just-

Fire strong, she signed next, followed by the sign for protection.

"Oh," he said dumbly. It was like the sun went behind a cloud and everything grew dim. He felt disappointed for some reason, and had no idea why. "It's fire resistant, you mean?"

Mouna nodded. Also blade strong. But heavy in water. Don't wear in water.

So probably not a good idea to wear if he had to do the Poseideous raid, then. But very much useful in the Robot Raid, which was all about fire and magma and explosions.

The sun came out again and filled the entire area with bright warmth. He smiled, touched by her consideration.

"Thank you, Mouna. This will help a lot, I'm sure."

Her lips twitched. Her eyes shone. And then she hurriedly stepped back, giving his space back to him. She gathered the two piles of new clothes and all but shoved them into his arms.

Take these. When you run out, let me know. I will make more.

"Ah, but you don't–"

She gave him a cool stare, hands flashing as she added, Be careful with the coat.

The warning was as clear as a brick to the face. He instantly nodded. "I will, promise! I won't wear it in the raid."

That was how the last one got destroyed. He signed gratitude a couple of times just to be safe.

That seemed to satisfy her, for she nodded once, face solemn. He almost sagged in relief. It went without saying that he'd have to be extremely careful not to ruin this coat like he had the last one. It must have taken her many full days of work just to make it.

When he finally wandered back out into the courtyard, Vast at his heels, he ran into Maun again. The Veiled man took one look at his new attire, and immediately grinned in a knowing sort of way.

"Oho, look at you! She really dressed you up, hm?"

Severance gave the man an annoyed look. The last thing he wanted to do was listen to Maun's nonsense, so he curled his fingers into the scruff of Vast's fur, and touched the little teleport stone hanging from his ear.

Tomorrow's Edge, he thought, focusing on that destination.

"Good-bye Maun," he said flatly. He vanished in a scattering of pale sparks.