Re: [Corvus]
[There is the gentle sound of a shuttle moving through taut thread, and as the memory settles deep, your eyes open to the familiar garments of your kin on both yourself and those around you, dyed in deep hues.
Best and the worst was that they stood up to what you could put them through. Roan was good for that; woven tight and coated well it was tough against brush and shed scales both, and while no one ever wanted to ride all night and well to seeing [Dawn's] eyes, everyone did, sooner or later. Itched like mad after the fiftieth hour, but there were soft penna undershirts to stop the worst of it, and to wick the moisture from sweat-drenched skin. Sure you could wear something lighter, but when the last fool who shrugged off his jacket came back with spitter burns covering half his body, you think twice.
Good cut, though, on those jackets. Sharp. Double breasted (though half the buttons stayed hid; less to catch the ground if you took a spill), rested just at the top of the thigh, it more fitted on the female frame, sure, but still something you felt you could respect. Good, strong belts, Slacks down to good, stout pair of ankle boots on the men, and looser trousers, higher boots for the women who could ride the still-fledging orvi without bearing too hard on their bones. And hats, good caps of felted whisp fur, brimmed to keep the sun from your eyes and full enough, especially among the women, to wrap a full head of hair under if need be.
Good, sturdy clothing, all of it. Now if it just needed to be a bit less durable . . . that'd be the life.]