A Hollow, with dreams of gothic grandeur, slipping between possibilities, and imagination but only the vestibule was a reality. The only thing that Mhairi had given form too, given the hardship gone through to shape the Thorns, and bend them to one's will.
Once inside, the eye is drawn to the hedge woven desk, a thing of birch and briars, or what passed for the former within the Hedge, every so often, the birch's eyes, would blink, or shift and gaze up at the world around them, most notably to what rested ontop of it. An antique sewing machine, gilded and glowing with the gentle rays of the setting sun. Every so often wisps of dusk clouds would appear, only seen from the corner of your eye, disappearing as soon as you tried to center them in your eye.
As Mhairi leads Circe inside she sidesteps one of the dress mannequins that floated passed, fell-flames flickering as the silhouette poses before slowing slipping away into a realm of sketches given life, wearing splashes of colour, filling out lines, then erasing them. Forever in a moment of ideas - fashion yet to be given thought.
The Wisp moves to the side of the room and pulls out a few folding chairs, carefully setting a black card table between them.
With quick movements the fashionista sets a fresh sketchbook on the table pencils at the ready.
Mhairi smiles up at her fellow Queen and wonders just what the elf had in mind for this consultation, and, hopefully, commission.
Origins