Making a wedding gown was far less complex and daunting than Kenny had believed upon first conception, initially finding himself in a whirlwind of anxiety of messing up such a treasured piece of the occasion. He'd been plagued with nightmares over his first order when he was nineteen from a young woman looking for the best prices. At the time, Levick's hands were too shaky for the delicate intricacies of such a garment, merely settling himself down with a set of worn farmer's trousers and watching Kenny with still eagle-sharp eyes. More than once the blonde had voiced his apprehension, fearing the sleeves too droopy; What if they caught fire on the ceremonial candle? What if the subtle line of beading parading the neckline caught on the groom's formal robes and pulled, tearing the gown right down the middle and exposing the poor bride for all her audience to see? Levick had cackled his way into a coughing fit at Kenny's ridiculous notions, assuring him time and again that he was perfectly capable of something of this magnitude, that he'd done enough work in his time to easily craft a maiden the dress of her dreams. He certainly hadn't believed the old man, only finally shedding his fretting after the woman had long since had her ceremony and sent other women to the shop in recommendation.
"You see?" Levick had slapped him on the back after the two of them secured three more orders for the following spring. "You know what you're doin', Ken. Don't trust your mind, trust your hands," he'd grabbed the boy's hands and shaken them pointedly. "They're what's gonna keep you makin' people happy. Your mind is there for makin' ideas and that's where it needs to stop, ya understand me?"
Kenny chuckled, shaking his head at the man's voice ringing so clearly in his ears as he adjusted a covered wooden dress form, a small geared lever at the bottom cranked with his foot rising it upon a sturdy pole. He clicked his tongue, knowing that his customer's shoulder was level with four inches above his elbow, raising it to meet its height requirement. He reached behind him and snagged a marked ribbon from the table, lightly penned with her waist and bust size. Slowly he wrapped it around the bust, noting the nearly six inches of overlap and humming to himself. He grasped a handful of precut fabric from the table, slowly slipping it over the dress form around the chest. Smirking, he couldn't help but recall teasing Levick for weeks when he'd meticulously crafted the form after his old one was ravaged by insects, joking that he spent more time on perfecting the shape of the bust than he had the height mechanism. Levick had merely shrugged and laughed with him, reminding him it was their job to accentuate a person's form for attire like this, so perfection was required.
The tailor sighed to himself, continuing to slip on piece after piece, slowly building up the side with layers of specifically measured cotton. They smelled of lye and the heat of the sun, brought inside just minutes before after Karen spent the day prior washing them in the river to clean them of the musty smell of Kenny's last project. He finally built up the size a decent enough amount to measure again, wrapping his ribbon back around and meeting the line right with the end of his tape. Silently, he said a thank you, hating playing the seemingly never-ending game of tearing off and putting back on layers to make it the correct size. He dropped the long, white strand around the waistline, finding her measurement and gauging the few inches needed wrapped around the torso.
Kenny grunted, grabbing the waist fabric and beginning to pin layers around the midsection. He folded his lips down on an array of pins, carefully moving around in a predatory circle as he scrupulously measured out his attachments.
Karen and their mother broke from their embroidery to watch him with amused expressions creeping onto their lips. "Ya doin' all right over there, Ken?" Karen teased.
He glanced up from his work, dropping the pins in his lips to his hand and shrugging. "Good as I can be. How's it goin' over there?"
"Slowly, but we're almost done with the second t' last shirt," Carol informed him.
Kenny grinned, "Good. Can either of you spare a break at all?"
"Oh please, let me," Karen begged, getting a loud snort out of the other two.
The tailor jerked his head back and she hopped from her stool, hurrying over beside him. "Can you take my coin pouch and go hit the merchant's? He has my silk in but I need t' start gettin' stuff set up with the slip."
She smiled and nodded, reaching over and snagging his pouch from his beltline. "And you don't want to deal with Cartman?" she asked coolly.
"Well, that's a given," he smirked. "Don't let him bully you. The price is one haithin, that's it that's all. He tries to pull anymore out of you, you come get me. Got it?"
Karen nodded affirmatively, "I got it. You have fun," she waved listlessly, turning on her heel and heading towards the front door. She doubled back as it swung open, clutching her hand to her chest and laughing in shock at Clyde and Wendy staring at her in equal surprise. "You two scared me!"
Wendy smiled kindly, "Sorry, Karen. Didn't mean to." They stepped aside as Karen continued her path out the door, giving them a small goodbye before exiting the shop quickly. Kenny couldn't exactly blame her for the hastened retreat, Tavin knew if he wasn't running the shop, he'd probably be the exact same way all hours of the day.
"Hey, Guys," he greeted, pinning the last layer to his form and re-measuring. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Clyde hiked his brow amusedly, "We're a pleasure, huh?"
"That's called good customer service, Clyde," he said dryly. "Maybe ya should learn it. Feldon can't hold your hand forever."
He scoffed, he and Wendy walking up to his table and snagging stools, plopping down and watching him fiddling with a premade slip, trying to shake off stray fibers. "You realize that I make most of the sales at the smithy, right?"
Kenny shrugged dismissively. "Can't be that difficult t' walk up to a guy and say 'are ya hard? Why not? Well here's somethin' to help with that'."
Wendy laughed, rolling her eyes. "And I can ask them if they're hot, right?"
"Atta girl," he winked, pulling the slip over the form and arranging it to hang comfortably. "And I just have t' ask if they need some stiffener in their lives. We've got the trifecta, guys. We should combine the businesses."
Clyde snorted. "Yeah sure. They can get a sword, a pair of pants, and a candle in one stop. Because who doesn't need all of those at once?"
"Stop ruining my dreams, Clyde," he pouted childishly. He smirked at the both of them chortling, moving to begin cutting his marked white silk lying on the table. "So, seriously, what's up?"
Wendy shrugged, "Honestly? Just bored. My father is starting the week's slaughter so I don't have my tallow just yet."
"And Feldon had to shut down shop for the rest of the day," Clyde added. "Not enough iron for some orders so we gotta wait until tomorrow's shipment."
Kenny scoffed, "Ya coulda just said you wanted to see me. Spare my sensitive feelin's and whatnot."
Wendy slowly cocked her brow with a smirk, "We came to see you, didn't we? We could've just as easily gone home."
"Home isn't nearly as entertaining as I am," he boasted teasingly.
"Yeah, nothing more entertaining than watching you play with a dress," Clyde rolled his eyes.
"Ay," he pointed at him firmly. "One day, a dress like this? It'll be yours. I'll make you look gorgeous."
He scowled, "Fuck you."
"Not until the wedding night, Sugar," he winked, Wendy putting her head down on the table and twittering loudly as Clyde glared at him, face going rouge.
"Yeah, like you're one to wait for the wedding night," he drawled.
Kenny sputtered with laughter, "What? Want me to fuck ya sooner?"
"Kenneth," Carol warned coolly from her table, not taking her eyes from the task at hand. Clyde and Wendy looked at her before turning back amusedly to the blonde, who pouted.
"I'm a grown man, Ma," he reminded her flatly.
She raised her brow, slipping her thread down into her stretched sleeve. "I don't care how old ya are. Ya don't talk like that in front of your mother."
"Yeah, Ken," Clyde mocked, getting a sharp glare from the tailor. "Be more respectful."
Kenny twisted his lips, putting down his shears and leaning closer towards him across the table. "Just because you don't even know what I'm talkin' about, it don't make it disrespectful."
The brunette stared at him wryly. "Yeah. I obviously have no idea what you could possibly mean."
"Figured ya wouldn't recognize when you're doin' it through all the tears," he said thickly, watching the offense twist onto Clyde's face before Wendy waved her hands between the both of them.
"All right, boys, calm down now," she cooed. "No need to argue over nothing."
Kenny cocked his brow at her, "You argue almost as much as Fatboy. I don't think you're allowed to weigh an opinion on what's too much disagreement."
She crossed her arms and stared at him primly. "When I argue, I have a reason behind it. I don't just throw out petty insults like all of you."
"Well aren't we superior?" Clyde flicked her lightly. "Just admit it, Wends. Ya grew up with us, and ya argue like us. No shame in that."
"Oh trust me, there's plenty of shame in that idea," she flicked him back. "Hate to break it to both of you, but our group isn't exactly the most revered in town."
Kenny snorted, "Well we're not the most hated, so I think we can live with that." He paused, twisting his lips, "Well, four out of five of us aren't the most hated. Can't exactly speak for Cartman."
Wendy cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly, "Considering Token is the one telling people their businesses can't survive and taking their taxes? I think only three of us are in the clear." The men looked at each other for a moment, giving nothing more than an agreeing shrug. That was just life in a small town. Any job that didn't only provide assets was nothing more than a stain on the collective's mind.
Kenny sighed, finishing shearing a side of his pattern and pulling it loose from the remaining silk, walking back over to his form and beginning to pin it to the hip. "You and him doin' all right, Wends?" he questioned quietly, lining up the edge of the beginning skirt to its starting point and watching it cascade onto the floor in a dully glinting sweep.
She bit her lip gently, fingers finding Kenny's spool of thread and gently rolling the bobbin around her thin hands. "Yeah, we're doing all right. I went to dinner at his house again yesterday."
"Uh oh," Clyde commented, leaning his head into his palm and staring at her. "That tone's never good."
The woman sighed and nodded. "Same as it always was. They're dressed as though a king is coming to dinner and I show up with missed tallow on my shoe…" she looked up to see Kenny watching her sympathetically and she waved him off. "Honestly, I should be used to it by now. His mother asked me if I wanted to inherit my family's shop…" she paused, shoulders sinking.
Kenny narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "And you said?"
"Well, it's complicated," she began wearily. "Because I had two options: Either I lie and say yes and they give Token this look of 'do you want to be tied to that' or I say no and I seem ungrateful for the opportunity that I could have."
Clyde nudged her softly, "So what did you say?"
She shrugged, "I lied and said yes. And his mother just… gave me this look," her face twisted a bit. "And at first I thought it was because of the kind of shop, but then she spouts off this 'are you sure you don't want to just be a housewife' bullshit," she growled bitterly. "So apparently, according to them, my options are either marry rich and sit around making blankets all day, or I'm nothing but a dirty butcher's daughter."
"Hey," Carol spoke up firmly from her side, the three of them turning to see her standing from her station and walking towards her. She crossed her arms, looking at Wendy firmly. "Don't you let them push ya 'round. Just 'cause they have the money don't mean shit."
Wendy cringed, tucking her long hair behind her ear. "I don't think they're trying to push me around exactly," she said slowly. "I think they just really think Token and I are going to… end up married and they want him to have a nice little wife to come home to."
Kenny winced, "Wends, that ain't you."
"I know," she groaned, leaning her head back exhaustedly. "I just don't know what to do."
Carol continued staring at her, reaching forward and maternally petting her head, Wendy sinking into the comforting gesture. "Just what did Token say when she said that?"
She paused, moving her head back down and staring at the spool still dancing in her fingers. "Nothing," she muttered. "Just gave me this look of 'I'm sorry'. And he apologized when he was walking me home… but I don't think he's opposed to his mother's ideals."
The woman scowled, "Linda doesn't know how to be a workin' woman," she said firmly. "She was born in the city and married young 'n rich. Don't you go listenin' t' her, Wendy."
Kenny nodded in agreement, "You hafta do what's right for you, Babe. If they make you that uncomfortable…" he trailed off, looking to Clyde for a way to gently broach the subject.
The brunette turned to Wendy and shrugged, "Dump Token," he said bluntly, Kenny rubbing his forehead with an irritated sigh in the background. Leave it to Clyde. The blacksmith shrugged at Wendy's confused stare, "Look, you're unhappy, so end it."
"But I'm not unhappy with him, I'm unhappy with his parents," she argued.
"Are ya sure you're not unhappy with him?" Kenny winced. "Wends, we love both of ya t' death but the only time I see ya giddy around 'im is when yer drinkin'."
She shrugged sheepishly, "We've been together long enough that I don't have to be constantly giddy," she reminded him. "I mean, six months is a lot of time… right?"
Carol shook her head, "Oh, Hon. I didn't stop gettin' giddy 'round Stuart until I had Kenny and he started changin'," she gestured to the blonde who very subtly hung his head guiltily. "And that was 'bout six years we'd been together," she winced.
"Everybody's different, Ma," Kenny said softly, watching Wendy beginning to frantically fiddle with the bobbin, grey eyes seeming to sing the somber tune of her predicament as they flittered about. "Wendy," he said firmly, getting her attention locked back on him. "Look. If ya still love Token, then talk to him about it," he urged. "Tell 'im that his folks are drivin' ya nuts. You don't deserve that kind of treatment."
She gnawed lightly on her tongue. "I just don't think his parents know any better, you know? Just how they both grew up and how they live… I don't think they understand how we do things on this end of the village."
Clyde shrugged, "No, they probably don't. Token does try though," he reminded her, getting a small nod out of the woman.
"He's just not very good at it," Carol remarked, shaking her head. A part of her was always torn with Kenny's friendship to the well-off clerk. He'd always been good to her son, but his looks of confusion and pity from the few times he'd entered their home certainly weren't as subtle as he may have hoped they were.
Kenny clicked his tongue a bit, "Well, no. He ain't. But with parents like that, can ya really blame him?"
Carol just sighed, smiling sadly at her youngest son. "I s'pose not." She looked back at Wendy and patted her head a final time. "Wendy, Honey, ya gotta do what's right for you. Either way, you're gonna hafta talk to Token about it."
The woman glanced at the three staring at her pitiably and she leaned her head into her palm, nodding softly. She glanced between Clyde and Kenny tiredly, "You do realize that if I do decide to call it off with Token, either him or I aren't going to be around, right?"
"We'll trade off with ya," Kenny smirked lightly. "And you were here first, so you get first call."
She chuckled softly, "I appreciate that. Thank you."
Clyde wrapped an arm around her shoulder and shook her lightly, "We got your back, Wendy."
"Clyde, he's your best friend," she reminded him flatly.
He paused before shrugging, "Yeah, but you always help me patch things up with Alice when I fuck up, so you have the power here."
She snorted, leaning into his arm and nodding. "Thanks. Glad to know I serve such a valuable purpose in the drama that is your love life."
"Well it sure as shit wouldn't be Kenny helping me," he gestured to the tailor who grinned cheekily.
"Why? Because I'm just so damn attractive and suave that Alice would forget you existed and beg me for my favor? Or would you be fighting her for the opportunity to win my hand?" he batted his lashes. Clyde groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically and Kenny pouted childishly.
Carol chuckled, moving to shake out her fingers, aching from nonstop threading. "Ken, you be nice now."
"He's not nice to me," he whined. He moved over towards her and leaned down, putting his head pathetically on his shoulder. "Ma, punish Clyde for not loving me."
Clyde shook his head, "Remember who makes your needles and thimbles, McCormick."
"Threatening the livelihood of myself and my lovely mother?" he feigned a gasp, hugging around her and just feeling her rolling her eyes amusedly. "Clyde, how could you say such a thing? You'd deprive this wonderful woman of income?!"
The brunette looked from his dramatics to his mother and smirked, "No offense, Mrs. McCormick, but your son is the most extravagant man I've ever met."
"You 'n me both," she concurred, raising her hand and patting Kenny's head.
Kenny flicked her shoulder lightly before cocking a sly brow at Clyde. "Oh, Clyde. You don't know just how extravagant certain parts of me can get," he purred, yelping as Carol slapped him over the back of the head. He whined, backing away from her and pouting, rubbing the victim spot. "Ma! Not nice!"
She sighed tiredly and rubbed her temple, "Ken, just work on your damn dress-" She stopped as the front door flew open, the group turning to see Stuart and Kevin stalking in with baskets in their arms, Stuart's face twisted in anger. "Stuart?" she questioned softly, seeing Kenny slowly edging back towards her, their guests frozen at the sight that they knew well enough could so easily spell turmoil.
He grunted, plopping his basket on the table atop Kenny's silk. The blonde's face twisted in rage, "Pops! Not on the damn merchandise!" he snapped, snagging the crate off the delicate material and meeting faces with his father, both of them scowling at each other.
"Calm down, both of you," Kevin said tiredly, placing his own carrier onto the floor and snagging Ken's to put down beside of it. "Dad's just… not happy."
"Really? Couldn't tell," Kenny muttered, Stuart sneering at him before his face dropped into nothing more than a mean frown and waved him off.
"You'd be angry, too. Every single one of ya," he gestured around the group.
Kenny looked between the two other men and narrowed his eyes. "Why? What happened? Everyone okay?"
"Everyone's fine," Kevin raised his hands reassuringly.
"Well not everyone," Stuart snapped, the collective recoiling at the sharp bite in his tone. "Someone's out there fuckin' doin' who knows what. Fuckin' witchcraft. Probably some fuckin' kids…" he turned and glared darkly at Kenny. "You been messin' around with sacrifices, Boy?"
He blinked in bewilderment. "Sacrifices? Witchcraft? What the fuck are you talking about?!"
Kevin stepped forward, pulling Kenny and Carol both back subtly, motioning for Clyde and Wendy to slowly move away from the temperamental man. "We don't know if it's that," he slowly elaborated. "But we did find somethin' awful strange in the woods by the mulberry bushes," he gestured to the collection stored in their baskets.
"What was it?" Wendy asked, her eyes wide with curiosity, Clyde's beaming all the same.
Stuart threw up his hands and waved them around dramatically, Carol, Kenny, and Kevin letting out a subtle flinch that the three of them silently prayed the others hadn't noticed. "Someone's out there puttin' shit in rings! Looks like they're makin' an offer t' someone!"
Clyde raised his brow, "Like Tavin?"
"Tavin doesn't need a pile of crap!" Stuart spat, the brunette recoiling.
"Calm it," Kenny seethed. "They're guests, fucking act like they're customers, will ya?" Stuart bared his teeth for a moment before just sighing and rubbing his forehead.
"Right. Sorry, Kids," he waved dismissively towards them.
Wendy gulped, "It's fine, Mr. McCormick." She glanced towards the other three huddled together, noting Kenny and Kevin both with an arm in front of their mother and she shook her head sadly. "But what did you find?" she pressed.
"It was so weird," Kevin said, face screwing up confusedly. He and Kenny noted the tense anger dropping from Stuart and finally moved from their positions, Kevin turning to address the audience. "Now I don't know if it was some kinda sacrificial thing, but it sure looked like it."
"For the fucking love of Tavin, what was it?!" Kenny groaned, reaching the end of his patience and fast.
"Mushrooms," he said bluntly.
The tailor hiked his brow suspiciously. "Mushrooms," he repeated. "You two do realize they're pretty common… right?"
Kevin shook his head, "Not these ones. They… well… they were grown a special way. In a ring."
Wendy and Clyde looked at each other in befuddlement, Kenny's eyes slowly widening at his brother's words. "A… a ring?"
Stuart nodded, "Yeah. Like someone went out there and planted 'em themselves. No others around 'em. Just in the middle of the bushes in that little clearing. Round as the sun, little smaller than our tables," he demonstrated the shape with his hands.
"What does that have t' do with a sacrifice?" Carol questioned.
"There was… a lot of stuff in the middle," Kevin elaborated. "Books and toys and broken bottles. It was the strangest thing I ever saw."
Kenny went rigid, his eyes widening and breath hitching. Very particular worn parchment papers from the book under his pillow danced in his mind, screaming vehemently at him to remind him that he knew exactly what they were referring to. He looked down, remembering that silhouetted figure from the week prior. 'Holy shit, was that really what I saw?!' he thought frantically. "You said toys?" he mumbled, not even sure if his voice was coming through loud enough for the group to hear.
Kevin nodded, "Yeah. Just little stuff. Saw a ball, couple of tops. Nothin' special. But so much broken glass," he murmured. "It was so strange."
"Sounds like it," Wendy agreed, staring at them and cocking her head, brow raising at Kenny's suddenly tensed figure. "I'm sure that it's just some kids."
"Some kids doin' what, exactly?" Stuart leaned against the embroidery table, crossing his arms and frowning. "That ain't any kind of game I played, I'll tell ya that."
"And what kids grow mushrooms?" Clyde added.
Carol shrugged, "Farmer kids? Maybe the Hiatt's kids got their hands on some of their seeds."
Wendy scrunched her face, "Do they grow mushrooms at the farm? I thought those were imported from Telona."
"Well we gotta have some kind growin' around here," Kevin said, looking up in thought. "They didn't look like the normal kind though."
"How so?" Carol questioned.
"They were blue," he answered with a shrug. "Pretty little things, I'll say that. But they didn't look right."
Clyde blinked, "Hope ya didn't eat one."
"I wouldn't go near that portal to blasphemy if ya paid me," Stuart said firmly. "I don't know what these kids are doin', but it ain't right. Tavin ain't gonna like it one bit."
Carol cleared her throat, "Well, that's for Tavin to decide…" she glanced over at Kenny, still staring at the ground in thought, his mind racing in a frenzied panic and wonder. "Ken? Hon? Ya all right?"
He snapped his head back up, blinking at her rapidly. "What? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just… tryin' t' think of an explanation myself," he chuckled awkwardly, beating back the thoughts screaming drastically that he didn't need to think because he damn well knew.
Wendy hummed thoughtfully, "Well, probably some kids just trying something new. I'm sure they'll grow out of it and be back to the proper ways of the andell," she said confidently. "Isn't that right, Kenny?"
"Yeah, yeah," he nodded briskly. "I'm sure…" he paused, glancing around the room. "Hey let's uh… let's not mention it to Karen, hm?"
Clyde cocked his brow, "Uh, why?"
"I don't want her freaking out," he winced. "Ya know how she is with her prayers and whatnot."
Stuart nodded affirmatively, "Last thing we need is for her to join in on this little cult they got goin'. No one says a word to her, we clear?"
"Clear," Kevin muttered, looking at Kenny suspiciously. He knew better than anyone that Kenny didn't keep things from Karen. His stomach twisted slightly, wondering if Ken knew more about this 'cult' than he was letting on, saying a silent, small prayer for if his suspicions rang with truth, for Kenny to snap out of it soon. But he also knew that prying at him wouldn't get him anywhere, it'd just force his brother further down into his stubborn ways. He was a McCormick through and through, after all.
The blonde didn't see his watchful eye, too busy staring at the ground once more and biting his thumbnail. This was too coincidental. No other explanation seemed to make a lick of sense. A mysterious thief and toys, a literal fairy ring with unique mushrooms… he shook his head, blue eyes flickering up to look out the window through long lashes. The afternoon sun fell across the woods, illuminating shades of green and brown, tantalizing him. But no. He'd have to wait. Wait until the shop was closed, until he could garner up a strong enough excuse to venture out that way without being pursued. He took a long, shuddery breath, letting his eyes slip closed and see those wings spreading once more.
Well, he'd wanted answers after all. And they seemed to be nestled right in the mulberry patch, and they were waiting just for him.
