Chapter 18: Izzy's Inn Stitches

Izabelle sat in the corner of the bustling common room of The Moonlit Tankard, her hands a blur of movement as her crochet hook darted through the yarn. She had long been in love with the hobby/obsession back on Earth, but quickly noticed it wasn't really a thing here on the Prima. This made it harder to actually obtain decent yarn, with it mostly being used for larger scale weaving projects. Technological and cultural advances seemed to render the need for small crafts obsolete.

What started as an innocent attempt to make something comforting for her children had turned into a growing enterprise, thanks to the sheer novelty of crochet in this world.

Izabelle first showed her creations to Merium Seda, the innkeeper. Merium had looked at the small, intricate turtle stuffy she made for Felix as if it were an enchanted artefact.

"What in Veska's unshaven legs is this?" Merium had asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"It’s called crochet," Izzy replied, trying to suppress her amusement. "It’s a craft from my world. I use this hook that Jamie crafted for me to loop yarn together into different patterns. See, it's simple."

Merium leaned closer, peering at the loops and knots with the intensity of someone examining forbidden magic. "Looks like witchcraft to me, you'll be burned for sure," she muttered, jokingly. "But seriously, I bet people would pay good money for something like this. I think you should act mysterious about its origins, like it's a highly specialised family secret or something. Reel them in."

That had been the moment Izzy realised she was onto something. And now, as she worked on yet another stuffy in the form of a bunny, her small corner of the inn had turned into a hub of activity. A few patrons stood by, watching her hands work with fascination, murmuring to each other about how it was done and what they could possibly ask her to make next.

One particularly eager spectator, an older elf in finely embroidered robes, leaned in closer, his thin lips parting in awe. "I heard much about your exotic fabrications. How long did it take you to master this... crochet?" he asked, his tone reverent.

Izzy glanced up, smiling softly. "Oh, I picked it up back home, before—" She stopped talking abruptly as Merium let out an aggressive coughing fit, clearly trying to get her attention.

Izabelle got the message, smirking wryly for but a second. "My ancestors honed this art for ages and I've done it all my life. The artefacts created provide luck, health and companionship. They're particularly good for children to bond with."

"Fascinating!" the elf exclaimed, eyes wide. "Can you make my daughter one of these creatures? I would pay handsomely for something so unique."

Merium, who had been listening nearby, smirked and crossed her arms, eyeing Izzy with approval. "Told you," she mouthed, grinning.

Izzy chuckled, shaking her head. "Of course I can! Do you have any design in mind or shall I just make something cute?"

The elf bowed ostentatiously. "I would defer to your greater wisdom, master seamstress."

"Oh, well okay then!" Izzy agreed enthusiastically. "I can probably have your daughter's newest best friend ready at the end of next week?" she stated.

The elf nodded sagely as if she had just imparted great wisdom. "Indeed, indeed. Well, once it is ready, I’d be most grateful. My name is Iniel."

"I’ll have to start charging commission for these wisdom nuggets," Merium remarked once the elf had left.

Izzy laughed and her attention returned to her work. She was crocheting a small, delicate bunny, its soft grey yarn slipping through her fingers with each practised motion. The tiny creature was taking shape in her hands, with its floppy ears already forming, and she smiled at the thought of finishing it.

This particular bunny had been requested by one of the local children who had admired her work the day before. Izzy found herself lost in the gentle rhythm of her stitches, enjoying the way the yarn intertwined, as if with each loop and pull she was creating a piece of magic in this strange new world.

Across the room, Daniel and Jamie were sitting at their usual spot, deep in conversation. Daniel glanced over and saw the way Izabelle's corner had gathered so much attention.

"Izzy's becoming a local celebrity," he muttered to Jamie, who chuckled in response.

"At this rate, we'll be living off crocheted toys and blankets instead of hunting bounties," Jamie teased, leaning back in his chair. "Though to be fair, her work is better than some of the crap we’ve seen at the market."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Daniel nodded in agreement. "Yup. Honestly, I'm looking forward to being a trophy husband. A gentleman of my delicate sensibilities should be well-kept. Not forced to stand in a phalanx like some kind of ruffian." He gestured to the crowd that was slowly forming around her. "This is pretty crazy, though. It's almost worth the years of having to swim through yarn simply to find my PlayStation controller."

Jamie grinned. "I'm also looking forward to being a trophy... brother-in-law? That's now a thing."

Daniel laughed, but his eyes softened as he watched Izzy work. "She’s a natural. Always has been. I think she needs this, you know? Something to ground her in all this chaos."

Jamie followed his brother’s gaze, a rare look of sincerity crossing his face. "Yeah. We all need something, don't we?"

Daniel picked up on a melancholic undertone within the statement. "That we do. You should socialise more, too. Maybe find yourself a nice Lycanys woman to settle down with and have pups."

Jamie turned his head slowly towards Daniel, a look of virulent disdain almost causing physical damage to his younger brother.

Merium wandered over to their table, wiping her hands on her apron, and gave them both a scrutinising look. "You two are sitting there, all warm and cozy, while your wife works her fingers to the bone. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

Daniel grinned up at her. "On top of being moral support, we are also the face of the group. You can't put a price on beauty. Isn’t that enough?"

Merium snorted, a grin spreading across her face. "Moral support? You call sitting on your backside 'support?' Hmph. I’d call it freeloading."

Jamie raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, we’re paying customers! Sort of."

"Sort of," Merium echoed with a mock frown. "I swear, the only thing you two support is my increasing thoughts of retiring. Now, go help her clean her table, or I’ll throw you out of here myself."

Daniel laughed and stood up, giving Jamie a look. "You heard the lady. Time to pull our weight."

As they made their way over to Izabelle, she looked up from her work with an amused smile. "Finally decided to join the workforce?"

"Apparently, we're not doing enough to keep the lights on," Daniel replied with a smirk, pulling up a chair next to her. "Anything I can do to help?"

Izzy raised an eyebrow. "You? Help? I don’t know, Daniel. The only stitches you know are the ones you get when you move for more than two minutes."

Jamie snorted. "She’s got you there, kiddo."

Daniel shot him a look. "I'll thank you for keeping our private affairs to yourself, Izabelle."

Izzy chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. You can grab Felix; he is starting to stir. Jamie, if you could clear this table of some of the trash, that would be incredible."

"Augh. Slave-driver," Daniel huffed, gazing down at his son who was staring back up, still combating the drowsiness from his nap. He picked him up from the rocker that was a permanent fixture beside Izabelle's table before nuzzling the baby boy's neck, causing him to giggle uproariously as Daniel's beard tickled him.

It was moments like these that kept him grounded: the quiet normalcy amidst the chaos of their new life. No pressing grand prophecy or wheel of fate—just a family being together.

Jamie sat down on the other side of Izzy, watching as she expertly handled the crochet hook. "You know, Izzy, you should start giving lessons. Maybe open a little workshop."

Izzy paused, considering the idea briefly before shaking her head. "A workshop? I’m barely keeping up with the orders I have now. The crochet is great and all, but I still have my actual business. Even started working on armour repairs since I got my actual Tailor class. I'm starting to feel like I'm spreading myself a bit thin. The levels are coming fast, but I feel like we aren't spending enough time with the kids."

"I've been thinking about that, too, actually. I feel bad for Felix. At least Diana has her little school gang. Poor Felix is basically a loud, self-destructive decoration whilst we all work." Daniel frowned seriously as he contemplated how to balance children with the new schedule. He hadn't actually stopped to think exactly how much time he was spending training with the Consortium, leaving Izabelle to essentially raise the kids and manage her own business. He would give anything for extra time with his mother, yet he found himself accidentally depriving the kids of that same quality time.

"I'll sort something out. I've progressed very quickly, I can probably stop staying so late at the consortium. I'm sorry for letting it get so bad," Daniel said, feeling like the whole inn had frozen in time as he actually took an issue seriously for once.

Izzy laughed, shaking her head. "No, don't apologise. It's been incredible to see you do so well and I didn't ask you to help. I only really just noticed how tough it's getting now."

But as the three of them sat there, working together in the warm glow of the inn, the idea of success didn’t seem so far-fetched. Izzy was already making a name for herself, and who knew where it would take her next?

As the evening wore on, more patrons stopped by to admire her work, some leaving their names for future commissions. Izzy’s crochet had become more than just a pastime—it was a way to connect, to create, and to carve out a place in this world for herself and her family.

There was a sadness lingering in the background, despite new steps forward. Thoughts of her family in the U.S. missing the kids growing up, Izabelle's success, and generally missing the extremely close bond she shared with her mother. She found it hard to talk with Daniel and Jamie about her parents because losing their own mother still caused so much grief, despite it having been ten years ago.

As the night deepened and the common room of The Moonlit Tankard began to quiet down, Izzy found herself forcing a smile. She would make the best of this situation and keep the family together as she always had.