Fashion Shopping Preperusal

Upper Alexandrian market district, afternoon.

The hustle and bustle of one of the main trade hubs in the city was in full swing at this hour of the day, with people going to and fro on every manner of business imaginable.

Two makari were also in the markets, one wearing heavy robes with a very large, but empty bag over one shoulder. The robed makari had picked up Aelwyn's tail by the tip, and dropped it back to the ground.

"The problem is, this thing is going to be a massive pain in your rear." The sorceress bemoans. "That, and the fact that you're small, if not in spirit. The way I've found works best, is you've got two options. Either we're going to need to find someone that makes clothing for makari in the city, or find someone that does clothes for sil and see if they can make the necessary adjustments, which are more than you would think. What do you think, Aelwyn?"

Aznara has arrived.

The other makari - definitely not in robes and more in a cloak and a loincloth (adn a flaming glaive) tilted his head curiously at the smaller of his kin. "How can it be a problem if one wears a loincloth?" The draconian asks, utterly confused. "Is that not noble enough?"

Then Aelwyn slaps his hand on Eztli's shoulder and grins at her in a macabre fashion. "It shall be fine, this one is certain whatever it is it will suit this one fine." Tail swishes behind him.

It was going to be a long day and clothes shopping.

And lo and behold, the worlds thinnest venn diagram intersection walks out from a nearby textiles shop, an arm full of several bolts of cloth. A mul'neissiean with several fresh bandages peeking out from up her neck and down her bare arms pulls down a pair of silver framed shades from atop her freshly half shaved head.

Aryia looks like she's recently come out of a wringer, one that burns, yet seems to be keeping herself busy despite the healing injuries. She almost strides past the two makari, but slows to a stop. Down she looks, up to the top of their heads. Appraising.

She raises hand in a simple greeting.

A sildanyar woman, perhaps familiar to some from adventures in the past, is meandering through the market -- although she's apparently alone in her own shopping. It seems she's just window-shopping, though, as she's not (yet) bought anything for herself, other than a skewer of meat along the way. The skewer's half-gone, too, even though she's taking from it only occasionally as she wanders. Even with the crowds, the makari kind of stand out. Glancing over at the two as they shop, she arches one eyebrow and pulls another bit of meat from the skewer in her hand.

The Goblin walks along slowly, carrying a large basket upon her back, the lid held closed by a small rope. She sighs from time to time, pausing to look at something that's caught her interest in a stall, but then she looks up at the looming basket, and begins moving along. To the next shiny thing, or tasty food, and then she pauses again, to consider it. And then the basket is eyed again, and she sighs.

Aryia's bandaged form catches her attention before the shorty Siths do, and Simony trudges her way, grinning at the woman. "How's my favourite patient patient?", she wonders, before peering at the Makari. Her nose twitches and the Gobbo casts a hungry look at the nearby meat-on-a-stick, and her stomach rumbles. She sighs.

"Aelwyn, it depends on the circumstance." The sorceress sighs, almost as loudly as possible. "Are you meeting them on a battlefield? They're probably not going to care that much what you're wearing, or they shouldn't at the very least. But if a nobleman or woman invites you to a fancy resttaurant in the city to discuss matters such as your induction into an order of knights, then you need to look the part, and just having a loincloth, while certainly showing a lot of confidence, will not be the best course of action."

Eztli rubs their forehead in preparation for things to come, before finding someone relatively familiar who makes the makari flinch in response. "Oh, Aryia right? What in the world happened that has you of all people in such a state?" They wonder, more than a touch surprised. "And hello Simony, why the sigh? If you want some food, why not buy it?"

Aznara glances at the goblin, having caught the look sent the way of her meat skewer. She also can't help but see the bandages on Aryia, as she lifts the skewer to pull another little chunk of meat to the end of the stick, where she bites only part of it free, leaving the remainder still skewered as she chews. After a few moments, though, she starts towards the group who are clearly adventurers, her free hand reaching behind her towards the small of her back.

The motion to the small of her back's not hidden at all, nor she is making any apparent effort to keep it from behind seen as she approaches.

"Golden lining on the cloth! And maybe a little bit of fire on the shoulder." Aelwyn retorts, "It shows class and confidence! Besides, this one has seen people go out fine dining wearing less in the troupe." He was obviously completely sincere about this subject, too. "This one _was_ told to look the greatest they can, no matter what that greatest means to others." Another tail swish.

As the Dragoon was talking with Eztli, his eyes roam over towards Aryia as she appears, and he bows his head. "Manager," He greets, and then towards Simony he bows his head. "Canvas, why the sudden job as the porter?" He asks with a teasing grin.

Aryia dumps the bolts into a half open bag before slinging it over a shoulder, nodding once towards Simony in greeting. The Temperance gets a thumbs up as in answer, reaching up to pull down some of the bandaging- showing a patches of fresh grey-pink skin. It's healing well!

Moving her attention to the two shopping makari, her brows knit in confusion briefly at them talking. She nods once towards Aelwyn in acknowledgement as a hand raises. "Do you need clothes?" her hand flits about, ending with a tug at her sleeveless shirt. Even if one did not understand the signs, the gist always seemed to get across. Though, the question from Eztli gets a broad grin to split across the mute's face. "A good fight. We won."

She looks down at Simony for a moment, then follows her gaze towards- Aryia blinks, lifting her shades to take in the approaching mul woman. And glancing towards the hand reaching for something. She rolls her shoulders. <Handspeech/Tongues>

The Goblin is visibly salivating, and she rubs at her mouth with the hem of her robes. Blinking, she glances at Eztli and Aelwyn. "Hungry, but I have to get these fresh fruits and vegetables back to the monastery. They will be so pleased their strawberries were traded for such a haul."

"Oooh, that's looking good, Aryia. I am happy it's healing up well. I expected as such, but always good when there are no complications." Simony's gaze goes to Aznara as well, but for different reasons from Aryia, the skewer openly lusted after. She begins looking around at the nearby stalls, her stomach rumbling again.

Aznara points at the nearby stall at which she bought the skewer, with the skewer itself... but only after taking that last half-bit of meat from the end of it. As she continues forward, she finishes pulling from behind her back a slender stick... a wand. "Anyone able to use objects of divine magic?", she questions, but only speaking with the back of her hand (the one holding the skewer) in front of her mouth -- as if she doesn't want to show off the meat she's still chewing on.

"Well, yes, but that's different. They're going dining either because they aren't trying to impress someone, or because they're business partners and provide something that the other person needs, so they can't afford to be picky." Eztli points out. "And that is a grade A trap if I have ever heard one Aelwyn. 'Oh, just wear what you like', they say, while using it as an excuse to judge you the entire night because you didn't feel like wearing a dress that's so stifling you can barely move in it, but at least it looks pretty."

The small makari coughs, and turns her attention back to Aryia. "To be completely honest, a good fight to you sounds like it would be terrifying to anyone else to be completely and utterly honest. But, yeah, clothes. And not on any sort of insane time crunch, at least I don't think so, so no need to drag me or Aelwyn or both of us into any dark alleys this time." She admits. "Hey, Aelwyn, you know her? She's an amazing tailor, I don't know how she manages to make a seethrough dress that doesn't get shredded by scales, but it might be your lucky day, you know?"

Aelwyn tilts his head towards Eztli, twisting his lips. Then he wraps his arm around her shoulders and gestures forward. "Yet, she came with a pink flare, riding a chariot, because every good entrance requires a courier before hand." He says in a slow, dramatic, and obviously, awed fashion. "... with jade hair and pink clothing."

A bright flash of his teeth. "A loincloth surely fits!" Then he turns back towards Aryia. "This one has met her, yet this one was not aware of her skills in this regard! What does she think?"

The draconian whips his tail and then looks towards Simony, leaning on his glaive away from Eztli. "Tch, this one can help her with the basket if she only asks." And his eyes roam over to Aznara, and he bows his head at last. "Stranger, this one does not."

Aryia's shoulders lax slightly as the hidden object was just that of a wand. Though, she ends up simply pointing down at Simony to answer the question. A priestess of Navos. She shifts to the smallest makari, smirking at the mention of a terrifying challenge. But, she nods once. "I don't miss getting shoved into stifling dresses. Anyways, I have extensive experience making sith'makar clothing."

She looks at Aelwyn. Tilts her head. "... I think it's stupid. But nobilities tend to err on the side of stupid fashions. What noble house is it? I may know their tastes."

She turns to Aznara. Looks her up and down. Then her hands flick around further to inquire, "Haven't ran into another mul'neissa in a while. Where are you from?" <Handspeech/Tongues>

Simony practically disappears, inquiries unheard, with only the large basket upon her back to mark her progress through the crowd.

The basket makes a beeline towards the stall selling the particular meet-on-a-stick product that Aznara enjoyed.

Aznara's offered use of the wand seems to have been a failure, and she lowers it before pulling the last bit of meat from her skewer with her teeth, chewing on it a bit, though her eyes follow Simony's progress towards the stall for a few moments. She clearly heard Aryia's question, but is stalling a few moments to formulate her reply. "Originally, from one of the undercities. Alexandria is my home, now", she replies in a language that not all may understand, but which, from her appearance, Aryia likely will. The word 'Alexandria' is clear as a part of what she's said, however.

She reaches the wand back around behind the small of her back. Now that she's closer, it's clear that she's got a small traveller's pack back there, worn low so as to make it at least somewhat accessible. She slides the wand in under the pack's flap and it seems to simply vanish into the container, before she withdraws her hand and lets her cloak fall back into place. <undercommon>

"Oh yes, Simony there, canvas if you're Aelwyn is likely able to use a divine wand, most likely. Me, not my thing, but nice to meet you."

The sorceress blinks, and breaks into a bit of laughter. "Well, whoever they are sounds interesting enough. Maybe they aren't a complete stick in the mud at least, but when were you planning to bring that up?" She asks. "Aryia is great, I still have the dress she made for me. Maybe you could at least consider a kilt or something, Aelwyn? It'd still let you breathe, and it looks a bit more proper for a meeting. Somewhat."

"Tch, kilts went out of fashion along with the harem pants. And you cannot kick high." Aelwyn replies to Eztli, before he nods at Aryia, reaching into his own low hung butt-satchel. A piece of parchment is pulled out and he starts to mouth. "The... Lavier... Trice..." He attempts, bravely, before he shows the paper to others. "... this one paid a lot of coin to receive this information, therefore it is perhaps this one shan't say loud, but for them to devour with eyes." The wine stained paper says in pretty, but hastily written cursive, 'Lord Knight Varen of House La'vie, Chevalier of the Cockatrice'.

Meanwhile, his attention is turned towards Simony and Aznara's antics. "... this one does like the smell of that meat. Is it with honey stained lamb and rabbit with thick side of pepper sauce?"

GAME: Aznara rolls knowledge/nobility: (18)+6: 24

GAME: Eztli rolls knowledge/nobility: Trained Use Only: 0

GAME: Simony rolls knowledge/nobility: (5)+6: 11

Aznara eyes the paper that's being shown around, arching an eyebrow. "Oh, my...", she says. "Looks like someone's going being evaluated for possible recruitment as a Cockatrice knight", she adds, gesturing at Aelwyn. "Congratulations", she concludes, half-bowing from her waist to him.

Aryia looks a touch confused as the wand is simply put back away. But an ear flicks. "Haven't heard that tongue in a long time," she signs. "Though, similar for I. From an undercity, though this place is home. For now. Glad to see more kin here. It is... reassuring."

She turns to the two makari, ignoring what is and isn't out of fashion. "Then you need to work on kicking," she quips with a finger-snap, leaning over to read the note. She ponders briefly, then snorts, shaking her head. "I'll make a kilt work." <Handspeech/Tongues>

The Goblin returns a short time later, two meat skewers in each hand, plus a fifth already in her mouth. She chews upon it happily. "Whah I mish?", she mumbles around the food, glancing from person to person.

Holding up the skewers, she mumbles again. "Waanone?"

"And what's wrong with those pants?" Eztli huffs, looking a bit miffed. "Surely a dancer of your caliber would see the value in clothes like that for various movements. And if anyone can make a kilt you can kick real good in, it'd be Aryia, I'm sure she could do it. I don't think it'd be as restrictive as you think."

"I don't know the noble house, so I guess I am working off of assumptions. Hopefully they'll be agreeable, Aelwyn, for your sake." The makari sighs. "I'd like one, if you're offering, miss Simony."

"Oh, I know something of that house. Lord Varen's still a knight of his order, even if he lost a little esteem and doesn't hold high station. He's still able to recruit folks he sees as worthy, though", Aznara volunteers about the recruitment letter.

In reply to Simony's offer, she says, "Thank you, but I've already had one, as you previously noticed." To Aryia, she simply nods a little, by way of reply.

Turning back to Aelwyn, she queries, "...are you being recruited for your skill at dance or your skill with a blade?"

"Of _course_ this one can make it work." Aelwyn says, making a long exhale. "That is not the issue! What if this arrives and does not represent themselves, what image would _that_ give?" The draconian replies, then flashes his teeth at Aryia. "Add a loincloth?" He slaps at his outside thighs. "Maybe pads?" He gives a glance towards Eztli. "Or does she simply wish to see this one in thin leggings? Maybe this one can put a loincloth on top." He flashes his teeth again.

Aznana gets a bow from him. "This one is! For this one's achievements, of course." He keeps grinning in his macabre fashion. "... and the unique letter. Though she does know them? Does she know what their tastes are?"

Aelwyn then accepts the skewer from Simony, taking it in one hand.

GAME: Aryia rolls craft/tailoring+2: (8)+24+2: 34

The Goblin shrugs at Aznara. "Mofome." She nods enthusiastically at Eztli, gesturing with one hand, encouraging the Sith to take one. Simony nods at Aelwyn when he takes one, with the Gobbo offering the other hand towards Aryia. "Yootoo."

Once those who want one take a skewer, she waves and saunters off into the crow, the basket making its way eastward.

Aryia nods sharply at Eztli's observation. "The trick is to wear shorts. But For him, he'd be lucky if I get him to-" she pauses, staring at him "-wear something that's not a loincloth," she sighs, rubbing her temple. "I'm going to stitch a fucking loincloth to your face at this rate, and the house can think you're the lord of ass covers."

She nods along with Aznara, confirming her fellow mul's observations as she reaches down to pluck one of the offered skewers from Simony and uncouthly chomping down on half of it in one go. She gives a little thankful nods towards the Temeperance. A thought crosses her. The mute stops. Holds the skewer in her teeth, and frees her hands up. "Actually- no. Your dumb ass is coming with me. I'm taking your measurements." She approaches Aelwyn. Reaches out. And simply grabs his arm.

How in the Hells is that grip like steel?!

Without word, she begins walking into a nearby alley, effortlessly dragging the Dragoon behind her. <Handspeech/Tongues>

"It is a very difficult thing to do, for certain. And I was so sure that a kilt would be enough of a solution." Eztli snorts, taking one skewer that lasted just as long as it took to scrape it across their teeth and swallow. "Why would I want to see you in leggings when you wander around with bare legs all the time? Besides, you know you're not my type, Aelwyn." The sorceress points out, only to wince as they were dragged off. "That's what I was worried about. Hopefully they don't take too much time."

-End Scene-