The weaver led Hadrian to familiar surroundings. Even in different light conditions and with many of the stalls already missing or being packed up, he was able to recognize the place. A different kind of people were now walking around, some hurrying to make the best of fading daylight, some followed a leisurely languid pace. Long shadows of locals flying overhead moved on the ground.

"Yes. Thank you."

 Hadrian shook his head at the suggestion - though he was animated through magic, he had no aptitude for the high art and suspected he would not be able to make use of many enchanted items.

*

Hadrian followed the weaver, though every now and then he turned his attention away to watch the streets. The shadows lengthened, and winged figures passed overhead. Hadrian looked up a few times, his vertebrae creaking as he did, but soon he stopped bothering. He was still getting used to accounting for flight-capable individuals, who seemed to populate this island. His gaze was drawn by the small, unique lanterns some of the civilians were hanging. It seemed that they, too, were constructed out of palm leaves, as he recognized the texture from rooftops and several other objects.

"Days always hot?" he asked. He didn't know if there was any seasonal variation to this island, and wasn't certain if he'd stay long enough to learn.

 Hadrian's attention was piqued by the removal of the shell necklace. Was it heavy or cumbersome to wear? Such mortal sensations were no longer accessible to him. No - the weaver arranged the shells very carefully, taking time to put them where he wanted. It was a protective measure, he realised. There was probably a protective charm on it. This ritual must have been meant to secure what was left behind unsupervised. He took note - he couldn't recognize magical enchantment on his own, but should keep in mind what could be a trap.

He followed the weaver, his new cloak swishing around his metal greaves. This settlement seemed less populated at this hour, fewer people were walking the streets or flying overhead. It appeared that this civilisation, too, eschewed nocturnal activity. He would have to observe it more closely to be certain, of course.

"When is the market... open?" he questioned, just to make sure.

 Hadrian took a moment to consider the offer. He didn't need to return to the market, but he's experienced enough trouble already in different towns when he crossed into spaces a walking skeleton was not welcome in. The guard he's encountered previously was already surprised to see him. It was best to avoid problems, especially since he was just here to do reconnaissance.

"Yes. Please."

 Hadrian could not dispute the sound idea behind the reasoning presented to him. Learning the new was one of the motivations that drove his present masterless existence, all in order to better move in the world and be of better service later on. And this solution would be beneficial, leaving him with more shells to make use of while on the island. The request was reasonable, even though Hadrian could not promise that he would return here within whatever the weaver's lifetime was. He was concerned about the cost and availability of materials used to make the cloak, but the weaver's words on the subject spoke of expertise that Hadrian lacked. He had to concede.

"I promise."

 He started pulling what shells he could notice out of his pouch when the weaver spoke up. His words were unexpected enough that Hadrian stopped mid-movement, his armoured gauntlet still as it was closing around two shells. The disruption to the transaction was not something his limited knowledge and skill could smoothly see him through.

There must have been something he was missing. He pressed on. "I not know the customs of the island. Is the money not good?"

 Welcome! Glad to have you with us. Looking forward to seeing what you make!

 There didn't appear to be any obstructions to his movement, as far as Hadrian could tell. He moved faster, then paused to examine the cloak for problems. None appeared. He glanced back at the weaver - he was the expert in the field, he would be able to notice flaws that Hadrian would miss.

"Cloak feels good" he confirmed. "No need to add anything."

Satisfied with the product, Hadrian reached for his money pouch and withdrew it. The enchantments on his bones did not aim to reproduce the sensitivity of mortal skin, making him unable to tell shell currency from coins by touch alone. He would have to count them out. He hoped that the weaver would be of assistance - his observance of some exchanges was inferior to a lifetime of working within the system. "How much do I owe you?" he repeated the line he's overheard in the markets.

 From what Hadrian has observed, most clothing did not change that much over the course of ages. He requested a cloak due to the simplicity of its design, one that he was familiar with, saw donned and even worn himself on occasion. He cautiously moved his arms through the sleeves, pleased that the circumference accounted for the armour he was wearing. It would be a problem if he had to give up on protection for the sake of anonymity. He was not raised for infiltration.

He cautiously shrugged the cloak onto his shoulders and reached to pull the hood over his skull. It fit well and left sufficient space for him to wear a helmet underneath, if needed. With the cloak in place, Hadrian turned around a few times, then took several steps, observing the movement of the fabric.

 Hadrian was roused from his vigil instantly. The finished piece met his expectations, and he was even more impressed with the weaver's skill when taking into consideration that he had no prior experience with making cloaks. The size was accurate, the colour fit within the set parametres. He cautiously picked it up. "May I try it on?" he asked. He wasn't sure if it was ready for use.

 Hadrian listened. This society's reliance on the local flora has become even more pronounced - as was the limit of his knowledge. He fell silent and still, still watching the process closely, but no longer interrupting with questions. He would respond only when addressed and informed that it was complete.

 I understand, it happens to me too sometimes. Good luck and hope to see you again soon!

 Alright. Shall I do a small timeskip to where the cloak gets finished then?

 Alright, it's looking like our thread is winding to a place to stop, unless you want something else to happen there?

 "Red silks, gold. Noted." Ria' conjured a few rolls of fabric in the air, just to get an impression of what it would look like. Wow, that felt rewarding! Perhaps he should move completely onto creating clothes for dolls or very small people.

He fitted Kana with a small cape that would go slightly below his waist, decorated with colourful embroidery of rocks. A lot of Verdan students were wearing their spirit stones under the robes, so he learned a lot about how colourful stones could be. That was all he chose for the upper body - if Kana changed his mind, Ria' could always fit him with a shirt later.

It was time for pants. Ria' conjured whirls of fabric around each of Kana's legs, solidifying them into trousers once he achieved the desired puffiness. "What do you think?" he called, though he had to raise his voice to be heard over the tempest of Dylan. He's so gonna get a papercut.

 Hadrian committed every function to his memory. He was quite impressed with all the ways the islanders were using the local flora. As undead, most of these were not of immediate use to him, but it was possible a less direct application would present itself. He could no longer rely on the weapons and wagons of the old world, he would be surprised if anything but the bare principles of warfare was still applicable.

"One tree for all? Do you use other trees?" he asked. He would have to pay more attention to the flora of the isles.

 "Is it the same tree like the homes?" Hadrian gestured to a few buildings around the open space the weaver selected for his work. Construction was relevant to his purpose - understanding it was important for urban warfare and siege tactics.

 Shiver. Hadrian had seen people shiver, and came to a conclusion it was a good thing he and other skeletons didn't. The noise it would make! Forget any attempt at a covert approach.

He cautiously poked a cloth sample. He was aware that his ability to touch things was far inferior to the sense the living were equipped with - that was where the efforts of the necromancers who raised him ended. Still, it would be impolite not to react.

"Is all cloth made from that?" he asked. "All cloth in the island?"

 Nice to have you join us! I recommend you read up on site rules and make a wants & limits page. Looking forward to seeing what you make.

 Hadrian shook his head - a gesture that he learned in this time signified a denial. He performed it by slightly rotating his skull atop his spine, several times before settling in its previous forward-facing position. There were some rudimentary enchantments on him that allowed him to estimate temperature - a late-campaign addition by some necromancer officers who wanted their troops to be able to take stock of the battlefield more completely.

He listened intently to the explanation, memorizing what he could. If fabrics were of plant origin, they were most likely unique to the island. The distance between it and the mainland seemed vast and took a long time to cross by ship, so it was unlikely that any seeds could make it across the sea.

"Touch the fabric? The... ike?"