Fashion Sense

[Lars]

Student Dormitories | Yaris 15, 2718 | Night

Lars wasn't often found in any dormitory building besides his own, but on certain occasions, students requested for him to join them in their dorms for one reason another. More often than not it was a matter of cleanliness, a desire to make the passive servant clean and tidy up the room they were too busy to care for. He couldn't really complain seeing as it was a part of the job... but it wasn't really a job of his choice anyway.

At least cleaning wasn't all that taxing on his mind or body. Most of his work shifts weren't--kitchen duty was more of a blessing all things considered; he did enjoy preparing food and desserts even if it was unappreciated by the students and staff that always clogged up the banquet hall. Laundry duty wasn't horrible either, though he was almost always exhausted from the steam and intense heat, and he didn't exactly enjoy the baths afterwards that he was always rushed right out of.

Tonight, however, he had been summoned to a tenth-form's dormroom. The student had approached him during dinner, whilst he was pouring him a glass of water, but apparently hadn't found it necessary to explain why he needed him. Lars wasn't all that nervous about it; he'd walked into a lot of sticky situations with various students and honestly wasn't fazed by all that much these days.

So after the banquet hall's numerous inhabitants had filtered out, Lars and his fellow servants went about cleaning everything up, and afterwards the passive left the hall quickly so as to not irritate the awaiting student.

It was a chilly walk from the banquet hall across campus to the student dormitories. Wind snapped at his skin and nipped at the back of his neck, at the little patch of skin uncovered by his wavy golden hair. He held his arms close across his chest, willing himself to not shiver during his nighttime stroll. The dry air threatened to chap his lips and crack at the skin of his bony hands if he stayed out for long.

Having been given the room number, Lars found his way through the tenth-form dormitory easily, ascending the floors and passing by only a few students and one or two other servants, tidying up the halls for the night. He offered them each a nod of acknowledgement, but kept otherwise silent until he came to the student's door.

Two gentle knocks against the wood broke the silence, Lars afterwards bringing his arms close to his body again to keep in all the warmth he could. It was far warmer inside, but it would take a moment for him to get used to the adjustment.

"Mr. Siordanti?" he called quietly through the door, and heard a few shuffling footsteps before it was opened.

It revealed a younger, although taller, galdori student. His hair was darker than Lars' and deeper red in hue; curled and messy atop his head, and his face was a similar mess of ginger freckles and delicate features. He appeared only a few years younger than himself--of course, he was in his tenth year of schooling--but something about him was far more confident, far more aware of himself and his surroundings than Lars had ever been. It made him almost shrink back internally, to remember just how invisible he was compared to each and every galdor.

"Yes, do come in," said Siordanti, moving away from the door to allow the passive access, "call me Norwyn, Mr. Siordanti's my father and professor's my brother--keep it simple for me, will you?"

Stepping inside the warmer dorm, Lars offered a nod, "of course, sir--sorry, Norwyn. What was it you needed him for?"

[Norwyn Siordanti]

Student Dormitories | Yaris 15, 2718 | Night

"Oh right to the point, I see. No time for a little chat to get to know each other? Norwyn glanced to the passive as he shut the door behind him, the student walking across the dorm room and to the chair sat in the middle. It was a strikingly bare room for someone who'd been living there for that long, the young galdor clearly not one for decoration on the walls or elsewhere. Even in terms of furniture the place was quite plain; it had the necessities for one student to sleep and survive, but nothing else.

"Sorry, s--Norwyn," the passive followed after the student, "most prefer him to be quick and not speak much. He didn't mean to imply anything."

"Of course he didn't; I doubt you'd dare imply anything around one of us, would you?" it was clear that the student was teasing him in some form, but Lars didn't seem to pick up on it. The passive stood silent in front of Norwyn at his chair, and the student seemed to realize something before standing quickly. He motioned towards the seat, grabbing hold of Lars' arm to nudge him into sitting.

"I'm getting a drink, would you care for one?" inquired Norwyn, striding across the room again to grab a bottle from the shelf near the door.

"No, he's alright, thank you."

Norwyn gave an uninterested noise, twisting the top from the little bottle. The liquid was cloudy and light amber in hue, something the passive couldn't name and certainly hadn't seen in the kitchen before. The galdor didn't care to grab a glass, bringing the small bottle to his lips and downing a bit of it. His face contorted in apparent distaste, swallowing it down nonetheless and putting the bottle back up.

"Now, time for a good chat. I've got no use for you if you're boring, little scrappy."

Lars wanted to cringe at the word, but kept himself unbothered, sitting on the chair and looking quite tense. Norwyn seemed to notice his discomfort, tilting his head to the side and offering a small smile.

"My mistake. Scrap's a mean word. Let me start again--Norwyn Siordanti. What's your name?"

"Lars," he gave, watching as the galdor sat down on the floor without a care. What the man's intentions were, he had no clue--why he would let a passive sit on the furniture rather than the floor, too, it was a mystery.

"Full name, please."

The older man shifted in his seat uncomfortably, glancing towards the door for a moment, "what is it you needed him for, again?"

The galdor rolled his eyes, bringing a hand up to scratch at his temple.

"I need a model for the garments I'm making. You're about the same size as me, and I don't want other students coming in here and fucking up my stuff, you know? So I'm gonna need you to pop those clothes off soon. Just figured we should chat first."

Lars was clearly surprised by the student's explanation, eyes widening as he stared in confusion at the man. This was... one of the strangest requests he'd gotten, that was for sure. He had no issue with trying on whatever garments the man needed him to, but he could've went about it in a much more... upfront manner. Lars wouldn't have refused--he didn't really have the luxury of refusing things.

"O-okay, he hasn't had that asked of him before," the passive admitted, "but okay, if you need."

The agreement brought a smile to Norwyn's face, lighting up his features with joyful delight. He clapped his hands together, pushing himself off of the floor, and then crossed to the other side of the room, where a make-shift closet had presumably been made by the student. It was made of a thick stick--more of a thin branch really--supported by the walls on either side, and hanging from it were a multitude of colorful outfits that the student had made himself.

"Delightful! We'll start with this one; a more casual look. I'm going for something new, a bit eye-catching."

Eye-catching was certainly the right word for the clothing grabbed first, Norwyn bringing it over to display to the passive. It was clear that the older didn't quite understand the asymmetrical composition of the outfit, at least not from how it hung loosely on the hanger, and Norwyn motioned towards the passive.

"Okay, don't judge on the hanger, Lars," he scolded lightly, "pop that uniform off and slip this bad boy on."

[Lars]

Student Dormitories | Yaris 15, 2718 | Night

Lars opened his mouth to respond, perhaps to contradict the idea that he had been silently judging the outfit as it was displayed to him, but he was stopped by the student's snapping of his fingers for him to hurry up and change. Although a bit hesitantly, the passive stood from the chair, glancing warily towards Norwyn before moving to start unbuttoning his shirt.

Norwyn didn't seem at all bothered or uncomfortable, and this fact made Lars himself a bit more at ease with the situation, removing his shirt and then going to do the same with his trousers. Thankfully the galdor handed the clothing over without commenting on anything; the passive always worried that someone might mention the angry and ever-inflamed tattoo on his bicep. With the help of the student, Lars slipped the shirt on, followed by the trousers, and then some sort of shawl-like garment over his shoulders.

"Tuck the shirt in," directed Norwyn, who was straightening out the material over Lars' shoulders so that it lay over his form properly.

Lars did as asked, tucking the fabric into his trousers and then moving when the student nudged him to follow him to the mirror resting against the wall. It was only a few inches shorter in height than Norwyn, but fit the image of Lars perfectly, giving him the opportunity to view the outfit he was assisting with.

It did look better than it had on the hanger, but the passive had to admit he hadn't seen anyone wear something like it before. The colors reminded him of the clothes he had owned and so proudly wore before his entrance into servitude; shiny greens and blues that looked far too expensive for the passive to be wearing.

"Hm," hummed the student from beside him, who glanced from the mirror back to Lars, "the shawl needs to be shorter. Other than that, looks fine... just let me pin that."

The redhead moved away to go find his needles, leaving Lars alone at the mirror to observe himself. Although he knew he could never again own or wear outfits such as these, it still felt like... well, it felt like home to him. He had grown so accustomed to wearing the plain, dull servant uniforms that he'd forgotten what it felt like to look nice.

That was just the life of a gated passive, he knew.

Returning to his side, Norwyn pinned the shawl up to a length he decided fit better, and then gave a satisfied nod.

"That'll do excellently. Now, take that off, let's get a bit more fancy."

"Of course," said the passive, moving to remove each piece of clothing with care and a gentleness, so as to not rip or otherwise damage anything the student made. The man was being kind, despite the strange situation, and Lars didn't want to ruin that by destroying his wardrobe.

He was handed another outfit, this one comprised of darker colors and softer fabrics, and was once again assisted by the younger male in putting it all on properly.

It was a suit, one he thought would fit nicely in any red-tie dinners or other formal event, if the student was allowed to wear his own apparel rather than the Brunnhold greens. He was brought back to the mirror by the guiding hand of Norwyn, tugging Lars by the wrist to let the passive view himself in the suit.

He couldn't help but run his hands down the front of the blazer; crafted with dark velvet and embroidered with golden thread at the shoulders in a floral pattern. The button-up shirt beneath he likened to the color of red wine; a burgundy that complimented the blues of the passive's eyes and was silky and smooth to the touch. The collar was high on his neck, covered partially at the sides by golden locks of hair. The trousers, although the same dark hue as the jacket, felt similar to some sort of leather... Lars wouldn't presume to know what kind, or if that's what it even was.

"Well," began Norwyn quietly, "I know I can make anything look like it was made by the gods, but I admit I wasn't expecting it to make you look nice."

The student's words brought Lars' eyes away from his own reflection, glancing upwards slightly to see the taller student behind him.

"Uh, thank you," he wasn't entirely sure how to respond, "he thinks that's a good thing?"

"Oh, yes, that was a compliment. Of course, was there any doubt? I could make some tribal wick look like a proper galdor, darling."

Norwyn was all confidence, and Lars found himself smiling a little. There was something comforting about being around someone that confident yet not hostile in his words. It made the passive himself feel a bit better as he looked back to his own reflection, blinking and wishing for a moment he could walk out in the clothes. He wondered if anyone would notice him, dressed nicely like a galdor, or if they'd spot his lack of field immediately and call out his disguise.

Those weren't proper things to be thinking.

Long, green fingernails trailed down the sleeves of the suit jacket, Norwyn feeling the velvet and seeming satisfied with the state of the outfit. The feeling was odd for the passive, who watched every movement from the painted nails with curiosity. Norwyn's head tilted a bit, the student leaning forward closer to the shorter man to rest his head on his shoulder. His hands trailed down until they reached Lars', sliding his fingers to intertwine them with his.

"Norwyn?" the servant tried cautiously, his voice quiet in the small dormitory room. It seemed to snap the student back into reality, eyebrows raising slightly as he pulled his hands away and lifted his head from Lars' shoulder.

"Right, right, uh--" the student glanced away towards the door, "tocks, look at the time. You should get back to your dorm before it gets too late, shouldn't you? These are all good for now, everything looks good, right?"

Lars stepped away from the mirror, looking to Norwyn and nodding despite the wish that he could stay here for a while longer; stay in the nice suit and forget for a while that the rest of his life would be spent in such a plain uniform. There was no use in reminiscing or daydreaming.

"Yes, they both look wonderful," he agreed, "he thinks you're very talented."

As he spoke, Lars crossed to the chair, where his own clothes lie draped over the back. He felt Norwyn's hands again helping him remove the jacket, long nails ever-so-gently brushing the tops of his shoulders as he did so. The passive cleared his throat, keeping his eyes low as he changed back into his uniform, and finally looked back to the redheaded student.

"He thanks you for letting him help, Norwyn," the servant offered with a bow.

"Of course, well, sometimes it's a bit difficult to do things on your own. Now, leave, run along back to your dorm or wherever they keep you."

The younger kept his gaze off of the servant as he spoke, leaving Lars to wonder for a moment if he had done something wrong. However, he was determined not to worsen the situation if he had, and with another polite bow to the galdor, Lars quietly left the dorm.