[ Full Title: Put that shirt down, you'll hurt yourself! ]
Someone had the audacity to take a large number of items off the clothing racks and pile them in a heap near the dressing rooms. The clothes were of the modern human variety in a wide spectrum of styles and colors, from the simple sharp white dress shirt to a masculine pink that settled on being one hue short of eye-searing. While it wouldn't normally be unusual to see a pile of clothes in a clothing store (much less one that catered to horsemen), what was unusual about it was the identity crisis in motion that was fluttering to and from it.
Merope emerged from the dressing room to stand in front of a floor-length mirror, squinting at his reflection. He had temporarily settled on a blue t-shirt with ripped blue-jeans with blue socks and -- "Aaaaugh!" The conquest horseman threw his hands up in disgust as he reached into the pile and grabbed to pieces of clothing at random, retreating into the dressing room again.
He was back a moment later in the same ripped jeans, but this time sporting a red shirt that he had managed to put on backwards.
It appeared Merope was in need of some assistance.
As much as it pained Damaris, she was in need of getting herself some clothing. But not just any threads, oh no. It would have been fine if she had to find clothes that suited her style more. Heavy furs, dark colors and silver adorning her fingers and ears.
But she had to venture into one of the clothing shops to find a suitable outfit for 'Human World' business. Why couldn't it just be easy? Nothing was ever just 'go over, harvest Fear and come back home.' Her feet trudged along the street before entering the shop with a clean, clear 'ring' of the doorbell.
She had expected to be greeted but she noticed the attendant seemed to be rather... Busy. Which suited Dama just fine. Less attention, the better.
But it was a little fascinating to watch them flit about the shop to put back the clothes that seemed to be rejected over by the dressing room. Her head tilted in a curious fashion before stepping further into the shop. She had been certain she had seen someone emerge from the room only to slip back inside with a frustrated roar. A quiet huff left her as she adjusted her antlered fur headdress to her shoulder, securing it with the leather straps attached and picked out several more 'muted' colored articles for herself to try.
A green jacket with black jeans and a hit of blue with an undershirt. It wasn't exactly her style but it would do for popping in and out of the human's land. Hopefully.
She stood outside of the area, still curious of the other. She was sure she had seen horns so... Perhaps a Conquest Horseman?
Character's name: Damaris Character's clan: Death - [Priestess] Character's journal link: [ jOURNAL ] Character's Arcana: Strength (Group B) BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER: 5'8". Preferring to stay underneath her furry friend, Damaris is pale with a pair of striking silver eyes peering through.
The imperial soldier glared at his reflection before turning his attention back to the pile of offerings. "Nope, not this, not that," Merope declared as he pawed through the offerings. He settled on grabbing another outfit before vanishing into the closet.
He came back moments later, shaking his head tossing the items he just grabbed back onto the pile. "Too hoity-toity. I almost ripped them putting it on -- they'd be shredded in less than a minute and I'd be right back where I starrrr... oh." Merope trailed off uncertainly when he caught sight of Damaris, his frustration fizzling out and turning into mute embarrassment.
"... So. Uh. Sorry, did I ta- er, were you waiting long?"
A moment had passed, just enough for her to swing the clothes over her unoccupied shoulder and she was met with the stranger that seemed to be taking up the changing room.
Steeling eyes locked onto another and it looked like she had been right about the horns. Definitely Conquest. And it was then that she wished she hadn't removed her furry friend from her head... She shook her pale-chestnut mop of a head. Attention was on her, once again and she had nothing to duck under or anyway of hiding her face.
"A-ah, no. I only just arrived." In truth, it had been, maybe 5 or so minutes but she wasn't counting. Time didn't mean much to the Priestess.
"Do you require some... Assistance?" The growing pile and obviously frazzled individual before her could have already answered her question. It looked like nearly the entire shop was in the one pile set up outside of the doors the other had been rushing in and out of. No wonder the staff looked a little... Tired.
"I could go and grab the attendant or..."I could help. It was stuck in her throat as she was certain that she was, in no way, a voice of reason when it came to fashion. Especially for another clan. She was used to the dark and muted colors that those associated with Death wore and she liked it. Less eyes upon her.
But this one. They appeared far more regal that she ever could be. At least, to her.
Character's name: Damaris Character's clan: Death - [Priestess] Character's journal link: [ JOURNAL ] Character's Arcana: Strength (Group B) BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER: 5'8". Preferring to stay underneath her furry friend, Damaris is pale with a pair of striking silver eyes peering through.
At her question, Merope looked down at himself. His gaze shifted towards the racks of clothes surrounding them. He made a point of avoiding the pile of rejected clothes; even now the pile was all but diminished as the shop's staff swooped on the articles and carried them to safety.
He shook his head dismissively. "No need. I've already given up on this place. The things here look nice, but..." Merope reached out and tugged on a nearby shirt, making a face. "It's too soft, and knowing me it wouldn't last."
"Besides," he added, "I'm pretty sure the staff would be more than happy to see the door hit me on the way out, y'know? You get frustrated and it's directed at yourself but it sounds like it's directed at someone else, and then things just go downhill."
"All though..." He began thoughtfully, resting his chin in one hand as he looked at her carefully. "Maybe there is something you can do for me. Hold still --"
Without waiting to see if she would acquiesce, Merope reached out and poked the head of the fur Damaris wore around her shoulders. "Huh. So that's what they feel like. Interesting. Don't you get itchy?"
Her neutral gaze gave away to one of more sympathy. It was, unfortunately, true with how 'irritated' the staff seemed to be with their huffing and sighing as they fluttered around the shop to return the articles of clothing to there proper spots.
And she did have to agree. The clothing in here did look nice. But that was about it. In her own field of work, she was sure to become dirtied and scuffed past the point of repair. Even for being a Priestess, she still needing clothing to be functional and durable.
"I suppose... I came in and they didn't seem too happy..." She turned her head to watch while the attendants buzzed about.
That was until she garnered his attention once more. Feeling the eyes on her once more, her body froze up. She watched with a hesitant breathe held before he just... Lightly poked her antlered pelt that sat on her shoulder. Her shoulders loosened after the contact and she even let a smile replace the deer-in-headlights sort of look from the initial contact.
"I-ah, no, not really... It actually keeps me very warm." She can't help in reaching over and gently petting the head of the pelt, almost lovingly. It had been passed to her and she had always been so thankful for such an amazing gift.
"Most think it can get itchy. It can during really humid weather but it's otherwise a pleasant shield." And a nice hiding place from most.
Character's name: Damaris Character's clan: Death - [Priestess] Character's journal link: [ JOURNAL ] Character's Arcana: Strength (Group B) BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER: 5'8". Preferring to stay underneath her furry friend, Damaris is pale with a pair of striking silver eyes peering through.
Upon hearing that the pelt kept her warm, Merope openly gave her a strange look. "Why would you need to be warm? It's pretty warm alre- wait. Waaaait." He held up his hands. "I get it, I get it now! You're here to get things to layer up and protect yourself even more, right?! Death clan's all about armor, so if you're here then maybe this stuff is stronger than I gave it credit for."
As Merope snapped his fingers and turned his attention back to the racks and racks of clothes, some of the attendants suddenly realized they had things to do and vanished from the sight into the backrooms. "Maybe... Maybe yes! Maybe there's something here I'm overlooking. You can find me something better than these attendants, right?!" He beamed, looking at Damaris expectantly.
OOC
Character:Merope Clan: Conquest Job: Imperial Soldier Arcana: Tower Notable Traits: - Teenager, more lithe than muscular. Loud. - Has four black horns; each horn has one to two silver rings on them. - Favors dark clothing with bright accents. See avatar.
Kaineferu
Posted: Mon Jun 05, 2017 5:12 pm
Well, honestly, they were not wrong. Armor and forging were a larger part of the clan and they were well-known for it. But Damaris was not among them.
Her hands could not forge the delicate trinkets or masterful armors and weapons that were crafted by so many other Horsemen. Her hands were mean't for more... 'Delicate' workings. Combing the fields in search of those that were lost and in need of someone to show them 'the path.'
Perhaps... She could help in her own way? Again, the other was not entirely off the truth in her being there. Layers had always served her best during her work and everyday-living. What harm could there be in helping the other?
The thoughts raced about her mind while her fingers fumbled with the edges of the snowy cloak before reaching her own conclusion.
"I suppose... But I can not promise anything." Promises were not something she was good with so she avoided them as best she could.
"I doubt they have anything incredibly durable but the jackets might be our best bet... At least to start off with." It was a good thing the attendants had rushed off to do whatever it was they had sudden deemed important. Cause Damaris was fairly certain her and her new companion were about to cause a whole new type of mess.
A short stride to some of the nearby racks and, after setting her own chosen clothes aside, the Priestess hooked a good number of jackets, coats and the like within the small encircling that was her arms.
"Let's start with these."
Character's name: Damaris Character's clan: Death - [Priestess] Character's journal link: [ JOURNAL ] Character's Arcana: Strength (Group B) BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER: 5'8". Preferring to stay underneath her furry friend, Damaris is pale with a pair of striking silver eyes peering through.
Merope beamed at Damaris' words. "It's okay! Even if we can't find anything I'll know what doesn't work, right? That'll mean I'm closer to finding something!"
He followed her as she picked out a few jackets, watching her curiously before accepting them from her. He managed to get his arm into the first one before shrugging it off, realizing it was too small before attempting to cram his entire size into it.
"So what are you doing here?" Merope asked as he grabbed the next jacket. "Looking to go into the Human World soon?"
OOC
Character:Merope Clan: Conquest Job: Imperial Soldier Arcana: Tower Notable Traits: - Teenager, more lithe than muscular. Loud. - Has four black horns; each horn has one to two silver rings on them. - Favors dark clothing with bright accents. See avatar.
