Thu Dec 20, 2018 12:43 am
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.