If the Dress Fits

Log Info

• Title: If the Dress Fits
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Verna
• Place: Fernwood Pub
• Time: November 12th, 2021
• Summary: Verna seeks out Aryia for some fashion advice, to which Aryia obliges, and shows off some clothes that could fit the Mourner given some minor adjustments. Verna chooses one that was meant for Aryia's sister, and the mute is a bit blind sided by seeing a mul'neissa touched folk in the dress. Picking herself back up, she tailors it to the Mourner, and gifts a shawl to go with it. A bit is shared about how tailoring seems to help sort out some emerging memories, and Aryia has a decision weather or not to dig into that past even further.

Fernwood Pub, Afternoon.

It was an interesting set of circumstances. One that Aryia herself would have never found herself in. Just like she was with Sandy some time ago, she was now in the situation of giving someone else the same luxury. Trying on different sets of attire. It was only the case as Aryia realized, speaking with the Mourner, that the event in question might be met with nothing more than that of grey on grey on grey on grey. Which, with the mute's rising sense of fashion, wouldn't be the most... grandeur of things. Especially if this was meant to be something more than a regular outing.

Old memories, ancient ones, stir from these actions, an unknown sense of duty welling within her. Yep. She was going to help a girl out.

The door to a rented room at the Fernwood is unlocked with a click from the key. Aryia knew that a certain someone was out for the time being, so it'd be fine to have a visitor. Which... was odd. This was the second visitor she's ever had in here. "Sorry for the mess, I'm packing," she mentions off handedly before throwing the door open.

Inside was a simple abode, almost like a fresh room just rented out. Except the signs of life were all squared away into open, small crates. A couple crates of cut cloth and bolts, with sewing supplies. A wardrobe half full with different dresses, shirts, pants, vests. Another crate with a slew of writing implements. Another with spare mechanical parts.

From the way the room is arranged, from the double pillows and two obviously diffrent sets of clothes, someone else lives here.

The elf motions to an empty chair at the table as she slides over to the wardrobe. "Feel free to sit anywhere." <Handspeech>

The room is pitch black, a few sheet covering the window. Though, such inky black is dispelled as the mute lights a lantern along the way.

Verna may not well fully understand the concerns of her attire; it serves its purpose in keeping her covered, protected, and gray IS a color. Technically. Conversely, she also realizes that she possesses a lack of understanding in some areas, and has come to trust Aryia's wisdom. This is exacerbated by the fact that she does wish the venture to go well. Perfectly, in truth.

"Thank you," she notes for Aryia's invitation, lighting, time, and/or combination thereof. "You acquired new living space, I presume? This one seems rather spacious." Quarters may be another area of limited data, given that she sleeps in a Vault in the temple. She moves to seat herself at the indicated chair despite the 'anywhere.'

Aryia scratches her neck at the question. "Uh... not yet. Planning on it. Just need to find a place. This place is good for one person. Not two. And with recent stuff going on... it's more for peace of mind."

For whose peace of mind, it's unclear.

The elf rifles around for clothing, shoving away things that are meant for someone that has nearly a foot on her in height. "So... we're almost the same height. And you're probably thinner than me. Maybe. Actually, do you mind taking the robe off?" she requests with one hand as she takes a few articles out of the wardrobe and starts to arrange them on the bed. <Handspeech>

"Understood. The quantity and danger of events as of late is most concerning. Relocation is a reasonable course." Verna concurs with this beyond the justified need for additional space. "Of course."

That is for the latter request and she rises to shed her cloak. A haversack is then removed, followed by her robes. Each is folded and lain over, or simply hung upon, the back of the chair, in order. In the end, this leaves her in a simple shift, unbleached and undyed, with knee-high black boots beneath.

So she does, indeed, have feet. Armed feet, as well, given the dagger sheathed at each boot. While not large before, she may well now appear half or less her prior volume; shorter than the full-blood, she is also possibly more soft and/or rounded. Perhaps due to her human heritage, lack of aggressive physical training, arduous activities, or some combination thereof.

Aryia turns to give Verna a once over from head to toe, her feeling a sort of... familiarity in the simplicity of the attire. One that she too used to wear, and still does, underneath everything else. She gives a nod, then turns back to what she's pulled out thus far. "So... are you partial to anything? Dresses, skirts, slacks, vests. Or... things you don't like? Like, I hate corsets."

She holds up a few different outfits.

A green dress with long sleeves and gold trimmings.

A long grey skirt with a green long sleeved shirt.

Black slacks with a silver vest and white shirt.

And... a one-shoulder violet dress. This one's a bit smaller than Aryia. <Handspeech>

Verna considers the question as she also considers the displayed options. Her lips purse in thought or recollection. "I am not particularly fond of ostentatious. My mother was excessively preferential to frills, lace, and ribbons."

Not that she spies anything so grandiose in the moment. The grey skirt is lingered upon a time, though she shifts her eyes elsewhere upon realizing this. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Aryia nods in agreement. "I don't like very fancy things. Too much for me."

She notes the lingering gaze on the skirt, and she scoops it up. "xgThis one might be good," she gestures towards it, showing it some. "I like wearing it sometimes."

A nod is afforded towards the violet dress. "That one might fight you a bit better." <Handspeech>

"But it might be a bit showy for you," she adds. <Handspeech>

"Complicated does not mean improved in most instances," Verna offers, "and I prefer practicality." In this instance, however, what she may or may not prefer (or be accustomed to) is not be the focus. "I would try that," she gestures a gloved hand to the violet dress. Fit is still practical?

Perhaps surprised by the decision, Aryia looks down to the most plain looking outfit in her hand. Not one to argue, she places it back down on the bed and retrieves the violet, one-shoulder dress.

It's none too fancy, save that it flares out at the waist and swishes about at the shins, a slit running from the bottom of it to the middle thigh on the side that didn't have a shoulder strap. It's just a *smidge* too large for Verna, and it would need to be tailored a bit to fit.

She holds it out to Verna to try on. "I'll let you swap into that," she motions, pointedly turning away to afford privacy.

There's a mirror on the wall next to the wardrobe for inspection. <Handspeech>

Yes, it is something of a surprising or even radical decision; as Verna would put it, it is a departure from the norm. This may be precisely why she chose it, though that it seems nearer her size is obviously convenient. Not that wearing oversized clothing appears to be an issue...

She accepts the garment and can be heard to doff her shift and don the dress. It is made more expedient by the fact that she does not need to remove her boots. While still attempting to adjust the single strap (should having only one not make it easier?), she notes, "I am dressed." She regards herself in the mirror as she continues to adjust the strap. With just one, one would expect it to be more easily situated to one's liking...

Aryia swivels back at the 'all clear' signal. Her hands are already moving. "I know it's a bit loose on the top, I can just sew it tighter if need be-"

She stops. One could see the pugilist's expression morph through a number of muted-emotions: surprise, regret, it settling on a shallow longing, eyes dimming a touch, before shaking her head. "... let me get my needles..." she motions slowly, busying herself with rifling through one of the many boxes.

She sniffs and wipes at her face, flicking a few drops of shade on the ground. <Handspeech>

"You obviously have a good eye for tailoring," Verna admits as Aryia holds a fair expectation of what shall fit or not with barely a glance. Perhaps the dress was originally intended for a sorceress rather than a wizard?

Something of a similar thought that is actually formed as she catches some of the shift in Aryia before the other turns. Sniffing and wiping are also gestures with which is she is rather familiar. Her lips purse. "I will try one of the others."

Aryia gestures to the air without looking, her somewhat turned away from the Mourner. "Thanks. Z-I-L-S-T-R-A-E was good at it." The boxes were too well organized for her to be taking so long. Really it was just a thinly veiled attempt to make some space and buy some time to set her face in order. In. Out.

She returns with a small sewing kit in hand, visage carefully set to be a tiny smile. "Okay. You can borrow that one if you change your mind," she signs with her free hand, setting down the kit and offering the grey skirt with a long green sleeved button up. <Handspeech>

Verna remains turned from the mirror to face Aryia as she returns. "This is ..different," she notes, gesturing to herself in the dress, regardless of alterations, "but it is comfortable and ..." a pauses as she glances back at the mirror behind her for a view she does not often have of herself, "aesthetically pleasing..." She turns back. "Yet I have the impression that this was begun for someone. Were they all?" A gesture to the other currently or previously held items. "I do not wish to take something that belongs to another."

Aryia pulls the skirt and shirt back to her chest. Her gaze rests on the violet dress, the fixed smile softening, yet a bit sad. "... thank you. I tried hard on that one." She shifts a bit on her feet, looking back to the bed. "... most of them are mine. You're not too different in size than me, so it wouldn't be hard to adjust them."

In. Out. Slow signs elaborate. "... the one you are wearing is meant for my sister. But she is... has been busy as of late. So it's there for her when she gets back."

...

"... it's been a while. So... I don't mind it being used instead of gathering dust..." <Handspeech>

Verna nods lightly as she listens, though she points out, with another nod (this one more pointed and indicative towards Aryia). "Not so different... aside from my lack of muscle and coordination." Compliment? Self-deprecation? Both? "If it is not inconvenience, insult, nor improper, I admit that I may be partial to this. You are the expert, however, and I would welcome and defer to your opinions."

Aryia's slightly sad expression lifts some, her snorting silently as she wipes a palm at her eye. "What, you telling me you can't jump over buildings?" she teases, the light in her eyes returned somewhat. She sets the skirt and shirt down and returns with a spool of violet thread in one hand and a needle between her lips. "I... think it suits you well enough. When I was getting fitted for clothes a while back, the seamstress told me that trying on clothes was a good way to see how other people view you, even if you don't hold yourself to the same standards," she shares, taking a moment to thread twine through the needle. "It's alright. You can borrow it, I don't mind. I might even make another one since I'm a bit better at it now than when I made that one. I think this person might be pleasantly surprised if you show up in this." She offers a small smile before stepping forward. "Please stand still, I... don't want to poke you while I adjust this." <Handspeech>

"No, I cannot," Verna admits in her typical factual deadpan, "... though I could fly over them." She remains somewhat undecided whether to accept or decline... until Aryia voices her opinion on what she believes another's opinion would be. That seems to settle the concerns and debate. "I will try to remain still." After a moment of uncertaintly as to what to do with her hands and arms, she lifts them to her sides to give Aryia access.

Aryia is careful in her work adjusting the violet attire. Cinching up loose cloth, tightening up the top, and closing a bit of the side slit to make it all more fitting for the somewhat shorter woman. There is some hesitation in her frame as she works, her looking a bit nervous as needle gets near skin, but she relaxes each time she pulls the thread away.

At least that anxiety kept some more intrusive thoughts at bay.

She steps back after cutting and tying the thread off, her giving an appraising look over it all. She thinks, reaches into the wardrobe next to her, and tosses a black shawl over the Mourner's shoulders.

"There. I think that works," the mute motions as she smiles a bit more warmly. <Handspeech>

If Verna has any concerns of puncture wounds or gaining a permanent purple second skin, she does not display them; she simple allows Aryia to work. A momentary notion of casual small talk in the interim arises, though is curtailed by logic. With her hands at work, it would not be so casual for Aryia.

Once the task is stated complete, she lowers her hands and arms. The former go to her sides and chest briefly at the now better (and more snugly) fit fabric. Some brief smoothing, tugging, and situating follow, though it is more a matter of unaccustomed fit than any faults of the tailor. They lower in time to receive the shawl.

"Thank you. It is unfamiliar, but that will pass." She even happens to appear feminine, for once, now that she is not in the one-size-fits-all (or two) robes. Even with the near-lack of hair.

Aryia folds her hands in front of her, her gaze a bit downcast as Verna gets herself situated. In. Out.

Taking the dark and shoving it waaaaaaaaay back before any shade could drip, she sets her shoulders and looks up, her giving a light nod and a thumbs up. "It looks nice on you. Thanks for giving it a try. And... I'm glad you came to me for this. Doing this... sort of helps me sort out my old memories. I've had a few resurface." <Handspeech>

"Oh?" That admission gains Verna's attention and she studies Aryia a moment. "Recovering more of your memories is what you wished, and their return on their own is best; they should be easier to unravel and absorb. I am pleased that my request was helpful."

After a pause, her curiosity may get the better of her. "Were there any specific recollections of note that you wish to share?"

Aryia gives a small dip of the chin, her moving back to pick up her clothes and replace them in the wardrobe. "I..." she trails off, using the moment to pull herself up onto an empty desk and sit on it. Her eyes slide shut. "... I remember... holding a... sword. Like... what are they called? A... R-A-P-I-E-R? I remember... sewing, a lot. With other people. I remember... parties? Or... gatherings? It's all... still blurry."

She opens her eyes, and settles the torch-lit gaze on Verna. "The most important thing I remember. Is... a name."

Her eyes flit down.

"... a house name." <Handspeech>

Verna nod with the descriptions. All sounds perfectly appropriate for one raised in a noble house. The nodding then abruptly halts at the final revelation. "That is a most informative piece of information. Given that, much more could be determined, even that which you would not have known or might not recall." She adds, belatedly, "If you wished research made."

Aryia bites her lip. Unease enters her. "... I... am nervous to research it. The memories weren't necessarily bad, per se. But..."

She sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose. "... it's probably best suited for another time. When I've had more of a chance to mull it over. You have some important things coming up you need to focus on." <Handspeech>

Verna reaches up a hand to place it on the maybe-mulling mul's shoulder. "There is no haste for you to pursue it or not, nor even to decide which. That is what I intended to convey. It is only as important a discovery as you deem."

Her shoulder receives a pat before Verna's hand lowers. "As well, I am not the only scholar in the room. You already proved studious."

The hand on her shoulder got some surprise out of the full blooded mul'neissa, it was a bit out of the blue for the normally stoic Mourner to do. Aryia blinks, then smiles, her looking off to the side and rubbing her neck. "Thank you. That's nice of you to say. I understood as much, it's just... a big decision, that's all."

She clears her throat, more of a social cue than actually preparing anything for speech. "Feel free to take that dress. I can wrap it up in something if you want." <Handspeech>

Verna may simply be learning. She is ever a student seeking to grow her knowledge in various endeavors. There are some in which she still requires much work. "Take you time," she re-concurs before glancing down at herself.

"Yes, please. I do not wish to wear it just yet." She might get gray on it?

-End Scene-