[M] Made to Measure [Juniper]

Xavier goes shoppinggggggg. Mostly for clothes.

Brunnhold's college town, located inside the university grounds.
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Xavier Zhirune
Posts: 68
Joined: Tue Jan 29, 2019 4:00 pm
Topics: 9
Location: On Tour
Race: Wick
: Not all that glitters be ging. Some 'f it's me.
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Muse
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Fri Feb 08, 2019 1:40 pm

Feldspar Tailoring
in the MID-AFTERNOON of VORTAS the 22nd, 2718

Image
The red-walled old fortress of Brunnhold so close to the end of the formal school year was a blustery place full of nervous excitement, late night studying, and, lucratively enough, a lot of needful distraction. Pubs and cafes, bars and taverns in the Stacks were often full of faculty and staff blowing off steam instead of grading final papers as well as students drinking and procrastinating on their studies. So full of galdori at various wealth levels, Xavier had no qualms about helping them part with their coins one song and one pocket at a time.

The albino wick had been traveling for months now—on the clocking ground—and while the skies were still calling their name softly in the night, their currently unwelcome status as a wick without a writ in places like Vienda limited their venues of profit. They'd been to the Harbor, of course, and tucked away in their belongings was a freshly minted, yet untested, counterfeit writ.

The problem was, they didn't feel they at all looked the part of tsat. No. Definitely vagabond. Carefree, attractive, well-paid vagabond, but still willfully homeless in appearances to the authorities nonetheless. If they were going to convince anyone they lived anywhere other than the hold of an airship or room to room or even the streets, a bit of a refresh of their wardrobe wasn't such a bad idea.

The willowy Gioran just didn't have a significant amount in their pockets. Sufficient, perhaps, so long as they were careful not tgo get carried away somewhere nice. There were plenty of choices in tailors in the Stacks, though most of them probably made more money on repairing uniforms and sewing professors' robes than clothing a wick with their rather unique taste in style. Peering in shop fronts, squinting at signs when the sun shown through the clouds too bright for the albino's violet gaze, the pale musician was probably one of the few creatures not bundled in a coat against the slowly deepening chill of autumn.

Anaxi folk were so comfortable in their mediocre temperate clime and their clocking ugly status quo. Dze.

Layers of well-worn linen shirts of admittedly very obviously feminine lines in dull earth tones, accented by a bright rust-colored vest hung with an easy grace over the tall creature's lithe frame, various baubles dangling low around their neck, sparkling in their ears, and clinging to their long fingers. Trousers in need of mending, threadbare and travel worn, were mostly hidden by the length of their almost tunic-like shirts and knee-high boots, though had it not rained the night before, Xavier would have happily given a skirt some fresh air instead. As it was, the cobblestones of the stacks were either muddy, dirty, and wet or still coated in a thin layer of ice, both too unfavorable for their more delicate clothing choices. Bone white hair was worn down and wild in the breeze, long and just barely tamed, streaks of a pale violet still fading from the left side where they'd dyed their hair weeks ago. Kohl stood in contrast to their translucent skin, in sharp, fashionable lines instead of smoky haze and the palest of pinks stained lips that couldn't otherwise achieve the same color as those who weren't blessed with their Gioran-bred albinism.

Over Xavier's shoulders was slung their oud, polished black wood and mother-of-pearl inlays catching the golden light as they poked their way through side streets and meandered into alleys, glancing at styles and signs, neither in a hurry nor quite sure what they were entirely after.

Affordability? Style? Both? Was that asking too mu—

"Oh." Breathed the willowy musician, not expecting a tailor's sign in this alley, sandwiched between a bindery and what appeared to be some sort of legal offices. The sign was fresh, new, and the words quality artistry stuck out on the little notice placed just so in one of the many little windows.

No one else had mentioned themselves as an artist thus far in all the clothier's they'd passed through, so this was, as far as the albino wick was concerned, a good sign.

Stepping through the door to the comfortable tinkle of a little bell, the tall wick hooked a thumb in the strap of their oud that crossed their chest and ran lithe fingers through their long hair, violet eyes looking for the proprietor only after wandering over racks of fabrics,

"Hello!" Xav grinned and warmly waggled a ring-laden hand with their greeting, their voice no less ambiguous than their choices of clothing, pretty, delicate features more indicative of their Kingdom of origin than anything else, "When yer sign says artistry, does 't mean affordable creativity?"

⟡ ☾° ⟡
word count: 889

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Juniper Feldspar
Posts: 63
Joined: Sun Nov 18, 2018 12:53 pm
Topics: 7
Race: Wick
Character Sheet: https://anaxasdiaries.com/viewtopic.php?t=543t
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Writer: Foxing
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Sat Feb 09, 2019 3:34 pm

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Feldspar Tailoring| Mid afternoon
22nd VORTAS 2718
Juniper hummed an old wick tune as he sewed, coffee steaming just out of the way of his elbow, keeping half an eye on Miranda as she flitted about the room chasing rainbows from the twisting crystal crescent he’d hung in the window. Embroidered shirt-sleeves rolled carefully up to the elbow, his collar and cravat loose and the top button of his violet waistcoat popped, he was comfortable and in his element in the neat little shop. This week, his red beard was trimmed to neatly frame his mouth and chin, and he rubbed it thoughtfully as he considered his work.

It was a rather beautiful cherry-red coat, velvet, with black roses embroidered along the collar and cuffs. He had made much better time than anticipated with this piece- this morning the lining hadn’t even been cut, and here he was, binding the buttonholes. The tailor allowed himself a moment to get lost in his love of the texture, the contrast of colour and fabric and the delicate petals of the thread-painted flowers.

He really was very fortunate. He’d never have thought when he was growing up, just discovering the delights of creating beauty, that he would be able to make it his life’s work…

It took him several moments to register the ringing of the shop bell as the Gioran entered, and then he was blinking distractedly at what seemed for all the world like a cloud of autumn leaves and mist swept through the door and given a face. He...no, she… no...he honestly couldn’t tell, and settled on ‘they’- in his line of work it was best not to assume-breezed up to the counter like they owned the place, despite the state of their attire, and he was just about to welcome them when his gaze swept up and met their eyes.

...oh…

Anyone taking a glance at Juniper’s shop, or, indeed, his person, would quickly gather his fondness for shades of purple, from his brocade waistcoat to the fabric-covered panels on the counters of his shop. To have that colour smiling at him in someone’s gaze made his breath stutter for a moment, and he had to take a second to collect himself before he smiled back with his answer.

“Absolutely. I can tailor my services to your purse as well as your sartorial inclinations.”

Damn, he was using ridiculous words again, that happened when he was a bit rattled.

He set the coat aside, lodging the needle safely in the fabric, stood, setting his palms on the counter, and leaned in with a bright smile.

“So, how can I help?”

word count: 455
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Xavier Zhirune
Posts: 68
Joined: Tue Jan 29, 2019 4:00 pm
Topics: 9
Location: On Tour
Race: Wick
: Not all that glitters be ging. Some 'f it's me.
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Muse
Contact:

Mon Feb 11, 2019 11:48 am

Feldspar Tailoring
in the MID-AFTERNOON of VORTAS the 22nd, 2718


There was a jinga miraan fluttering about, distractingly pretty fabrics to admire, and a fresh, steaming cup of coffee right there on the counter. Not to mention a cute man beneath the unfinished work of their own—Xavier managed to keep their attentions barely focused, however, violet gaze flitting for one last moment over the florally-themed sewing that the ginger wick behind the counter was carefully working on. Anaxi people were such adorable little things with their height and their freckles, their bright, colorful hair, their delicate features and their begrudging acceptance of otherwise disgusting half-breeds like himself (Gior denied their own existence, after all).

The coat on the tailor's lap was gloriously red and a touchable velvet with finely crafted embroidery, and as distracting as it was, it didn't take long for the albino wick to notice that they were glancing over quite a few shades of purple and violet. Lovely. Without knowing them at all, this tailor had fashioned their wardrobe as a little homage to the pigmentless color of their eyes! Not that Xav could quite say such a strange (perhaps slightly self-centered) compliment out loud, but it was impossible to hide the tinge of pink that rose to their cheeks, albinism having its shortcomings on occasion after all.

The red-headed wick smiled back, perhaps more flustered than expected—had the willowy musician interrupted something important? The tall Gioran blinked at the words used, attempting to put the one word—satorial—they didn't know into desperate contextual meaning. Unable to find anything in the short reply and unable to invent a convincing definition in their mind, colorless eyelashes simply fluttered in momentary confusion. Xavier leaned both elbows on the countertop and crossed one foot behind their calf without concern that such an forward angle caused their jewelry to slip lower, sparkling and swinging, nor their partially unbuttoned shirts to reveal far more translucent skin than was at all polite in the Kingdom of Anaxas, smile broadening both because the tekaa tailor was cute when caught off-guard and because they hoped to hide their ignorance behind the coy expression. One bejeweled hand waggled fingers almost shyly, purring quietly,

"Sator—whatnow? Ent that a curious new word." After a slow blink and the bob of an Adam's apple that indicated what they both were and were not comfortably without apology all at the same time when they swallowed, they added, "I can pay in coin, oes, if that's what yer askin' ... an', well, if ye take payment in song 'r some kinda entertainin', boemo. I'm good for all o' that, jus' so y' know."

The smirk was mischievous and the almost husky tone felt like an innuendo whan Xavier spoke of entertaining, but suddenly the flutter of wings distracted them for a moment, violet gaze reluctantly wandering from the other wick's nostalgia-inducing sky blue eyes and well-trimmed beard to watch the pale miraan dart about after bright, colorful reflections of the sunlight that filtered through a myriad of little windows inside.

The silver feathered creature reminded the pale musician of home—Gior a strange place full of not only albino galdori and humans, but albino wildlife as well. Did they long for the mountains and vales? Did they miss the snow or the skies? Yes. But also, no. Traveling had proven itself exciting, daring, difficult, and delicious; the insatiably curious creature had been able to gorge on the different experiences they'd discovered this far without any complaint, that was for clocking sure.

The tailor leaned his palms on the same counter, also tipping closer as if they were about to share some furtive conversation, eliciting a slow inhale, Xav tilting their gracefully carved chin just so. Reaching up to curl long, lithe fingers into the strap across their narrow chest and adjust the oud over their shoulder, the tall Gioran told the truth without hesitation:

"Y' see, I'm on m' way toward Vienda to make some music an' earn a bit o' ging. I jus' wanna look less—uh—fresh off th' airship vagabond an' more well-traveled musician. Ye chen? I ent got a big budget, but I want some clothes that'll last an' look amazin' ... an' maybe y' can share a bit o' that coffee, too while you're at it—junta. Manners—"

Straightening away from the counter, the albino wick reached into the inner pocket of their vest to pull out a small, rectangular card. It was on thick, cottony paper as pale as they Gioran that held it. Offering it without formality to the handsome tsat across the counter by sliding it with two ring-laden fingers until the card and their pale hand with long, well-manicured nails currently lacquered a delicate incandescent pearl touched Juniper's hand on his counter.

The card read in clean metal type in black ink:


Xavier Zhirune
⟡ ☾° ⟡
Musician, et cetera for Hire


"—jus' Xav is fine. Mister Feldspar, is it?" The willowy musician smiled warmly, color complimenting their lips and the invitation in their tone. Ah, that "et cetera" was a curious mystery they chose not to elaborate on in this moment.

⟡ ☾° ⟡
word count: 992
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Juniper Feldspar
Posts: 63
Joined: Sun Nov 18, 2018 12:53 pm
Topics: 7
Race: Wick
Character Sheet: https://anaxasdiaries.com/viewtopic.php?t=543t
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Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Foxing
Contact:

Tue Feb 12, 2019 8:33 am

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Feldspar Tailoring| Mid afternoon
22nd VORTAS 2718
The beautiful Gioran leaned on the counter like it was a bar, all expressive hands and spidersilk hair and jingling trinkets, and..

...oh...that is...a lot of skin…

Juniper blinked furiously, realising the wick was speaking.

"Sator—whatnow? Ent that a curious new word."

Juniper bit his lip, an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks, and spoke without thinking.

“Ne, epaemo, I’ve had so many gollies in of late and they seem to like it when I use long words… like a dog that knows a trick, ye chen?” A hand rose to his mouth, but it was too late, his carefully-cultivated Estuan and accent had slipped, and he sighed, giving in and ducking his head almost bashfully.

“Sartorial. Means to do with clothing, fashion. What I do. And um...I’ll definitely need enough ging to cover cloth costs, but...as for the rest?”

He paused a moment, considering the person on the other side of the counter. Oh, what he could do with that… Everything he made these days was so very safe. Beautiful, yes… but safe. He longed to create something a little more esoteric, fantastical.

...I deserve a personal project every once in a while…


Then he registered the particular inflection on the word ‘entertaining’...

...wait...what?


The tips of his ears went bright red, and he swallowed hard, putting that thought very deliberately away.

“Um...we’ll have a chat. I’m sure we can work something out, oes? It’d be benny to work with you, if y’ like my style that is…”

The mist-creature's gaze slid away to where Miranda swooped and turned, chasing rainbows in the window, and Juniper’s brow furrowed in concern.

“Epaemo, if she bothers I can stow her upstairs? I know some clients don’t like her…”

He gave a short whistle, holding up his hand, but the miraan merely gave a short trill in response, continuing to dart through the air.

The tailor sighed, leaning down to feel under the counter for something, and drew out a small wooden box, which he rattled. The silver head immediately turned, feather crest fluffing, and the long body and wings undulated after it, swimming through the air to perch on his outstretched forearm, slender silver tail coiling around his wrist.

“Ersehat spoiled creature…”
the tailor muttered fondly, flicking the silver catch with a thumbnail and plucking a small dark object from within. “Ye’ll get fat.” He flicked the little nugget in her direction, and her angular head darted to snap it out of the air, long tongue flicking happily round her narrow lips. The little teacup drake swallowed, canting her head towards him, and the little wick’s face creased with affection, lowering to allow his pet to bump her head against his jaw. He turned back to the tall Gioran who was… suddenly a lot closer.

He listened to them explain just what they were after while those long fingers flexed around the strap of their instrument, and thought of mists and moons and silks and chifffon… not at all anything else.

...no...nothing else…



“Last and look amazing?”
he replied. “That I can do, and the latter shouldn’t be hard considering what I have to work with…” He flashed a shy but appreciative smile at the other wick, slipping back into the easy compliments that were a part of his job. Even when they were utterly sincere, belied by the spots of colour in his cheeks, and the way his gaze kept flashing back to those violet eyes...

Then that card slid across the counter, and didn’t...didn’t stop until the textured paper was brushing under his hand, and pale fingers nudged against his own.

“I uh..Juniper is...Juniper is fine...Xav...” he stuttered softly, looking down at the glimmering fingernails and and be-ringed knuckles.
word count: 655
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Xavier Zhirune
Posts: 68
Joined: Tue Jan 29, 2019 4:00 pm
Topics: 9
Location: On Tour
Race: Wick
: Not all that glitters be ging. Some 'f it's me.
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Muse
Contact:

Wed Feb 13, 2019 7:57 am

Feldspar Tailoring
​​
​​
​​in the MID-AFTERNOON of VORTAS the 22nd, 2718
​​

​​
​​Was the other man blushing? Oh, Anaxi and the way a bit of color on their cheeks attempted to drown their freckles! Xavier's smile grew wider as a pina manna more Tek slipped from the ginger wick's pleasingly-shaped lips, the expression becoming something of an amused, coy smirk at the tailor's choice of words. Long words and tricks didn't at all sound like galdor business for a heartbeat or two, but perhaps it was simply that the pale musician was easily distracted,
​​
​​"Satorial." They repeated as if attempting to remember the word, whispering an echo of the syllables as if the willowy Gioran was considering its worthiness for a song. Violet eyes widened at what they clearly heard as an offer of some kind,
​​
​​"I ent broke, mind. I jus' need a bit 'f coin leftover t' eat an' sleep on. Brunnhold's a fair bit more expensive than th' Harbor for a wanderin' musician, jus' 'cause it's a damn fancy school full o' rich kids, ye chen. An' I'll make some more—buskin' an' playin' places like th' Singin' Badger." There was an excitement building in their voice, hands moving expressively, pale eyelashes fluttering for a moment when the flustered tailor blushed even deeper than before, "Your style? Oes, it's macha, kov. Look at those details an' th' colors—if bein' albino's got nothin' else goin' for me, it's bein' a blank but willin’ canvas for any palette."
​​
​​Xavier tittered almost shyly when they winked at the end, enjoying how the other wick appeared to be just as curious and enthusiastic as they were, "We're chattin' now, ent we? I ent afraid 'f a bit o' work—oh—"
​​
​​The miraan was pretty, their metallic rush of movement catching the pale wick's attention for a moment, keeping them from finishing their sentence. The diminutive drake flew toward the tailor when he called for it, Xav's violet gaze following its fluttering feathers and keeping its quick movements in sight until the redhead whistled,
​​
​​"—ne, she's very beautiful. Doesn't bother me 't all. There's far worse creatures out there, ye chen, an' most 'f 'em 're body-shaped." They grinned again, watching the treat smelling the rich scent of chocolate curiously, and hearing the little tease, the miraan and the tailor both rather cutely affectionate with each other. Lower lip caught for a moment between their teeth, their smile warmed the pigmentless skin of their cheeks, adding another color to their face besides the kohl that lined their eyes, reaching up to pet the feathered creature after adjusting the woven strap of the well-cared for oud over their shoulder.
​​
​​Ah! Did the man flirt back? The play was easy because the stage was well-set, and they certainly had no objection to bantering with smiles and a few stray glances, even if it came to very little, simply because they were with tekaa.
​​
​​Unable to keep from chuckling, Xavier made the sound of amusement sound no less flirtatious, "Oh, well, Juniper, I do like to fancy that I make just 'bout anythin' look good. Sometimes even nothin'." The willowy musician all but purred, testing out the other man's name with just as much soft-edged interest, following the motion of blue eyes before they withdrew their touch, leaving the card behind. Maybe that was too much directness, Gior far more bold and forward than subtle, prudish Anaxas, but the albino wick occasionally got ahead of themselves when distracted, when entertained, just as they did when entertaining. This was a moment they were definitely pleasantly caught up in both, and so they pressed on in their enjoyment, still leaning against the counter,
​​
​​"This be your stage, kov, not mine, jus' like when I'm out buskin' 'r playin' in a pub. I'm jus' here t' give you coins an' look pretty in th' end, so you've got my permission t' have your way with m'—ahem—m' clothes since you're makin' em." Xav wasn't even sorry for the one-liners now, thoroughly enthused and very curious about the pretty ginger tailor and his pretty miraaan. He seemed far less full of himself than a few other places they'd visited and that felt so comfortable already, putting the tall Gioran at ease in a red-walled fortress full of stuffy academics and stressed out students,
​​
​​"Coffee an' a small talk o' details, then?”

​​
​​
⟡ ☾° ⟡
​​

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word count: 866
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Juniper Feldspar
Posts: 63
Joined: Sun Nov 18, 2018 12:53 pm
Topics: 7
Race: Wick
Character Sheet: https://anaxasdiaries.com/viewtopic.php?t=543t
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Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Foxing
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Mon Feb 18, 2019 3:33 pm

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Feldspar Tailoring| Mid afternoon
22nd VORTAS 2718
The tailor smiled.


“I’ll have to drop in when you’re performing, I could use an evening out. And… I've missed Tekaa music. Not that I imagine there's much call for it where you'll be playing, but… still…”

It was honestly the thing he missed most, being in the city. Not just the music itself, but the belonging that came with it, the joy and the laughter and the company. A wave of nostalgia struck him suddenly, because different as this wick looked from those he grew up with, they were still undeniably a wick, and as familiar as they were strange.

As Xavier continued talking, Juniper glowed at the compliment to his work, and nodded. “Oes, you're perfect.” Blue eyes went wide. “Ah! I mean...for um...for colours…tocks…”

...oh you moony clocking...

Though even as he berated himself, trying to find words, the wick realised he was less nervous than he would be slipping up in front of his usual clients. But then, Xav didn’t really act like his usual clients. The tailor felt like his cheeks were shining a beacon, but it wasn't throwing him like it usually would.

Still, he smiled self-consciously as the other wick reached out to pet his Miranda, who nuzzled into the hand happily, and to distract himself, nudged the open box towards Xavier.

“Chocolate?”

Then the fey creature finished with a phrase that put all kinds of images in his head that he was genuinely not prepared for.

“...Sometimes even nothin’.”

...oh. Oh help…

He blinked hard, but no, he hadn’t imagined that comment. His mouth worked for a moment as though seeking and abandoning several words, but the musician was continuing to talk, and it seemed… were they actually…

...clock it. In for a bird, in for a hat…

It had been too long since he felt comfortable enough to do this, to talk like this, and though his voice was soft, he didn't stutter.

“Well, I doubt people can keep their eyes off you now, imagine how much you'll make when I'm done with ye.”

He looked up as the musician withdrew their hand, his gaze all but begging for approval.

...just say it…

“I'll get you that coffee...but...d'ye want to come up with me? Tis warmer, a pina bit more comfy, we can work out exactly what you want from me. I wouldn't normally but… well...ye don't seem the kind to stand on ceremony.”

Raising his hand up to his shoulder for the miraan to settle round his neck, he reached for his own coffee and took a sip, glancing at the Gioran over the rim of the cup.

...well either you've just lost a customer, or…

“I can lock up for the day, it's near enough closing time…”

It was not, in fact, near enough closing time...

Juniper ducked for a moment behind the counter, nearly spilling his coffee before he remembered to set it back down on its little coaster, and came back up with a loosely-bound sketchbook and a slender wooden box that rattled as he set it on the counter. Miranda keened her displeasure at the sudden movement, and he petted her absent-mindedly in apology.
word count: 562
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Xavier Zhirune
Posts: 68
Joined: Tue Jan 29, 2019 4:00 pm
Topics: 9
Location: On Tour
Race: Wick
: Not all that glitters be ging. Some 'f it's me.
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Muse
Contact:

Tue Feb 19, 2019 1:55 pm

Feldspar Tailoring
in the MID-AFTERNOON of VORTAS the 22nd, 2718


The albino musician was still smiling, shrugging narrow shoulders to set jewelry tinkling at the idea that they couldn't play tekaa music wherever they wished, regardless of who their audience might have been, "I play what I want, an' so far I still manage t' eat. I'll be at th' Singin' Badger tomorrow night an' two other pubs down th' street from that a couple o'nights later since it'll be th' weekend an' I hear them academic jents like gettin' plumb guttered. ye should come—ent anyone can stop ye from pretendin' it's a cajoa. Hopin' that makes for a benny bit o' loose change, ye chen, but I wouldn't mind a few folks actually enjoyin' my tunes, too."

Xavier was as unapologetic for their music as they were for the rarity of their heritage in their homeland, and their travels had, perhaps, allowed them to broaden their frame of reference when it came to composition. Their opinion on their music was admittedly biased, but, for the most part, they'd yet to receive too many complaints, quite aware that their melodies weren't traditional nor influenced by stuffy galdori classicism. Not at all. The wilds of Gior and the skies above Vita were their inspiration more than some stuffy, academic method of arranging notes.

Oh, but Juniper was beaming like Osa glowing brightly next to the full light of Benea, and had the Gioran not been listening so curiously to the endearing tailor's every word, they would have perhaps missed the honesty, the quick compliment, and the wide eyes of unexpected surprise. The well-traveled wick tittered again, holding back a full-fledged giggle, but translucent skin didn't keep secrets. It was Xav's turn for visible color to tint their cheeks just so, violet gaze not shying away from the man's blue hues. They should have said thank ye to such a praise, but lithe, lacquered fingers reached up to stroke silvery feathers, distracted by the miraan's eagerness for their touch and perhaps too kind to make too much of tailor's surprise.

Grinning now, distracted by obvious complements and soft creatures, the offer of the open box brought much-needed, sudden focus for the pale musician, who finally managed to quip appreciatively, "Mujo ma." for more than just the piece of chocolate they gladly pilfered. If they made a show of popping the confectionary right into their color-stained lips, fingers lingering, well, it could be said that it was all part of their act. Or it could have simply been more flirtatiousness.

Both. It was probably both.

Flustering the ginger wick was nearly as delicious as the woodsy, fruity flavors of the sweet that was melting in their mouth, and it was probably just that realization that emboldened the tall Gioran just enough to make their comments that much more forward. Tongue savored chocolate remnants with a coy lack of subtlety only for their smile to falter with Juniper's next comment.

Oh.

Well.

"Oes, from th' looks o'things, it seems like y' can make a fair work out 'f th' likes o' me if I let ye have yer way, ye chen." Xavier was both demure and obvious, curiosity and amusement in their violet gaze, in the warm color of their pale skin.

Directness and confidence were traits admired, honored, and encouraged in their mountainous homeland regardless of race, and while Xavier was no longer anything other than Gioran by birth and appearance (far too well-traveled to call anywhere their heritage anymore), the influences of their childhood raised by humanity in the vales of the Kingdom had left their mark. High in the clouds, rattling along from the insides of airships, quick thinking and honesty between crewmates was essential for survival. As a musician and performer and occasional thief, reading the audience and adapting to the location were all part of the game—

This was more than simply professional kindness.

The fashionable man with the glittery miraan was definitely playing along.

"Upstairs?" The pale musician's lilt of a rhetorical question made it obvious that they knew what time of day it was by the way the light slanted through the many small windows of the storefront, by the leisurely, exploratory walk they'd taken through the Stacks, and they were quite sure closing time wasn't usually anytime soon. But, then again, did they live a tailors life? Ne, but they could guess. The awareness of such an invitation brought a fluttery, curious feeling to their insides not unlike the thrill of flying into a turbulent storm. The excited tempo of an elevated pulse set the rhythm of their melodious thoughts, unable to deny such forwardness from any good-looking Anaxi.

Like fine chocolate, it was a rare treat.

Xav hummed their agreement with a shyer smile than perhaps would have been expected considering how easy they'd made the banter, utterly unable to separate the interest from the invitation, searching the freckled, stubbled, handsome face of the wick behind the counter as the man peered from over his cup of coffee,

"I ent raised among th' proper types t' care much for things considered Anaxi proper, it's true, but when a balach with a keen eye for what's macha offers me a bit o' special treatment, I ent gonna say ne." Bejeweled fingers waggled tauntingly toward the stairs, gaze reluctantly slipping from the tailor's face to watch him gather things, their field expressive in its proximity, brushing against the other wick's own glamour once he slipped from behind the counter,

"Boemo. I ent got any other plans today, so y' get me all t' yerself. For th' measurin' an' fittin' o' things an' such 'f course. Oes. That." It was impossible, apparently, not to make every comment an innuendo at this point, even if they didn't entirely mean to make a fool of themselves. Dressing and undressing both were included subjects, and an invitation beyond the customer area of the cute little shop was informal and enticing. Xavier was truly there for new clothes and not for getting out of them, but as they allowed their attention to sweep over the shorter, ginger wick that had stepped into the main room of his shop with his very lovely, hand-made and hand-tailored clothes in hues that complimented the willowy Gioran's eyes, well, how could they be expected to at all behave?

Surely, they couldn't.

Hooking a thumb in the woven strap over their shoulder that held their lovely oud against their back, Xav hovered with expectance, content to be led but just feral enough to run lithe fingers over fabric and peer eagerly at displays while they made a point to follow close behind Juniper and his feathered friend.

⟡ ☾° ⟡
word count: 1222
User avatar
Juniper Feldspar
Posts: 63
Joined: Sun Nov 18, 2018 12:53 pm
Topics: 7
Race: Wick
Character Sheet: https://anaxasdiaries.com/viewtopic.php?t=543t
Post Templates: [url=http:/fullurl/]Post Templates[/url]
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Foxing
Contact:

Wed Feb 20, 2019 1:18 pm

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Feldspar Tailoring| Mid Afternoon
22nd VORTAS 2718
He hadn’t imagined it, as he’d thought for a fleeting moment might have been the case- creative as the wick was, said imagination did occasionally run away with him- but the musician was honest-to-gods flirting with him, and it was such an unfamiliar yet pleasant feeling that Juniper didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

Given the Gioran’s style he’d somehow been expecting that little show with the chocolate, and...perhaps...hoping for it? Not that he would admit such a thing…

The redhead was somewhat terrifying himself with this uncharacteristic bout of boldness, but...well...it seemed to be paying off, and...was that a pink tinge to the other’s own cheek?

No matter the calm he was attempting to exude, utterly belied no doubt by the warmth of his field, Juniper was buzzing with nervous anticipation of the best kind. Lip caught absent-mindedly between his teeth, he slipped out from behind the counter, skirting awkwardly around Xav as he moved to shoot the bolts in the shop door, setting out a little sign-
CLOSED
for a fitting

He felt the performer’s glamour brush up against his own as he moved past them, breath stopping for a heartbeat, but as he stepped into the turning rainbows cast by the crystal in the window, he smiled, the shifting colours giving him ideas...

...just enjoy this..whatever it is...even if it is just the opportunity to dress such a fine model…


...and he raised his hand to unhook the crescent, turning it as he did so to let the dancing hues spill over Xavier where they waited so at ease, gazing at the result with a thoughtful smile.

“Perfect canvas indeed…” the tailor mused, blue gaze flicking up to meet violet before slipping the crystal into his back pocket. He leaned over to snag his sketchbook and pencil box, which he tucked under one arm, retrieving his coffee with the other hand.

“It’s through my workroom,” he informed Xav, taking a couple of steps backwards to steal another glance at that pretty face before turning to lead the way through the back half of the shop, set out as a fitting room with a triptych of tall mirrors and two beautifully upholstered chairs in front of a little bookcase. The door to his workshop was in the back left-hand corner past a sideboard fashioned from dark, polished wood, and Juniper awkwardly turned the handle with an elbow, somehow wedging it to both push it down and pull it towards him, nearly spilling his coffee in the process.

“Oops...there we go…”

He held it open with a heel for the Gioran before turning immediately to his left and clattering up a set of wooden stairs that turned back on themselves, seemingly running along the outside of the shop.

The workroom that he’d stepped through the corner of was much less attractive than the shop floor- though just as impeccably clean. The majority of the space was taken up by a large table that stood about hip height on the tailor, and was built with the space below it cleverly utilised for cupboards and fabric racks. Drawers lined one of the walls, floor-to ceiling, a little more than half of them full at present- as could be seen by the neat hand-written labels slid into brass brackets affixed to the front of each one.

At the top of the stairs, after another quarter-turn, was another door, this time opened by the tailor simply backing into it and holding it behind him to let Xav enter, sketchbook and coffee held close to his brocade-covered chest.

“My humble abode, such as ‘tis,” he declared softly, shrugging with a shy smile, and then, as Xavier passed through the door, stepped over to lay his load down on the little round table that stood in the middle of the room, accompanied by two chairs and covered in a beautiful embroidered tablecloth. To the right, there was a window, again, with many panes of glass, like the shop window immediately below it, but most of these were better quality and smooth. There was a window seat set into the wall, with bright embroidered cushions and book clearly half-read, and opposite them as they entered a little iron stove, embers still glowing in the grate. To the left of that was a dresser, cups and plates arranged neatly on its middle shelves, the bottom cupboards closed, the top shelves full of little canisters of herbs and coffees and teas.

The far end of the room, to the left, was mostly his little box bed, set into a panelled cupboard wall. The entire little cubby was draped with bright fabrics and spangles, and strewn with more embroidered cushions in a riot of colour over a pretty patchwork quilt.

Juniper busied himself grinding more coffee and setting the pot to boil, calling over his shoulder as he stoked the smouldering embers in the stove.

“Make yourself at home…”


He would have tried a little monite to speed things up, but with the way his heart was racing he felt it might not go to plan. There was an utterly bewitching creature in his little flat and...

...can you just hold it together long enough to get their measurements...come on Jun…

He wasn’t sure he could, especially if the gorgeous thing insisted on making every other sentence an innuendo...
word count: 927
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Xavier Zhirune
Posts: 68
Joined: Tue Jan 29, 2019 4:00 pm
Topics: 9
Location: On Tour
Race: Wick
: Not all that glitters be ging. Some 'f it's me.
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Muse
Contact:

Thu Feb 21, 2019 11:55 am

Feldspar Tailoring
in the MID-AFTERNOON of VORTAS the 22nd, 2718


Flirting was easy—it was another facet of performance that Xavier had learned to work into their repertoire over the years in order to capture more attentions, earn a few extra coins, and find warm, comfortable places to sleep that often included more than a few enjoyable bonuses. Flirting also had its dangers, both personally and metaphorically, especially for a creature that cared little for conforming to the expectations of any kingdom they found themselves in, let alone the kingdom of Anaxas. The albino wick was not necessarily as trusting as their demure, jovial demeanor always implied, their truer self beneath sparkling layers purposefully put on to dazzle and awe—some of who they appeared to be, especially in public with strangers, was really just part of their act.

However, the handsome ginger tailor was tekaa, and while they were clearly a tsat and not some muse-following nomadic vagrant like the Gioran had become, they were still able to stand on the same ground (when Xav's feet were, in fact, actually on the ground, of course). They were obviously creative, which meant they understood things on a level that, say, some stubborn, set-in-their ways crusty galdor never could. This understanding did much to assuage the willowy musician's usual sense of caution, a relaxed but willing trust extended in the exchange of awkward smiles and obvious word choices that put Xavier both at ease and in a place of undeniable interest.

Trust was so very alluring.

Violet eyes followed the ginger wick as he moved about his shop, reading the words on the sign set in the windows without hiding the quirking of a pale brow and the warmth of a small smile. They followed Juniper's hands when he reached for the crystal that had distracted his silvery miraan, never one to shy away from the spotlight, the blur of colors only encouraged a brighter smile and a soft chuckle, landscape of pigmentless skin unable to hide any flush of amusement such direct compliments may have caused.

Xav chose to trail along behind quietly, unable to help themselves from running fingers over fabric, lacquered nails tracing over upholstery and spines of books. Did the albino wick pause in the view of mirrors with the sudden urge to preen? They most certainly did—stray strands of hair tucked just so, a necklace adjusted, and a face of approval made—before turning in time to catch the admittedly endearing tailor struggle with coffee and door handles and all the things he'd chosen to carry.

Gracefully, the tall Gioran reached for the door supported by Juniper's heel with one hand regard for the invasion of the man's personal space, breezing through the threshold and toward the stairs just barely keeping themselves from brushing up against him in the process. Barely.

Continuing to follow, climbing upward to the dull thump of their oud against their back, their gaze might have lingered on fabric or might have dwelled inappropriately over the body in front of them, the next door into the ginger wick's proper home allowed the albino Gioran an opportunity to lightly, briefly let fingertips touch the other man's shoulder, offering brightly, "Mujo ma."

It was simply instinct to slip from their boots in the threshold and curl toes against the floor while Juniper made his way to the kitchen. Xavier paused to take in the tidy little living space, far bigger than they were used to aboard airships or in cheap inn rooms. Taking in the appearances and feelings of home, the pale musician shrugged off the oud from over their shoulder and into their hands for a moment, fingers restless over the strings while they moved toward the window and the cushions. Careful not to upset the book, they sat, cradling the dark-stained instrument in their lap and letting their violet gaze wander over details and idiosyncrasies, curiously studying the tailor through his belongings on display.

Perhaps their gaze lingered on the cozy bed for too long, tucked into a cupboard, before they tilted their head to watch Juniper grind coffee with more of their smile.

They could have paused in the workroom. But they did not.

Here they were.

Attention drawn to the stove fire, Xavier chewed the inside of their cheek in thought, strumming and plucking expectant notes, crossing one leg over the other and settling into the seat, just barely refraining from pointing out that it appeared the tailor lived alone. That would have been simply more obvious flirtation, wouldn't it?

"It is warmer up here. An' a fair mana cozier than a lil' kint 'r a cramped bunk on an airship, let me tell ye." They breathed their words quietly, willing themselves to make inane comments because thus far they'd been unable to say anything that hadn't practically begged for a bedding—not that they would have at all complained about such a thing to be honest. Choosing instead to attempt to get to know the curious creature who'd boldly done the inviting, Xavier spoke above soft, random melodies, filling the little space with the deep, warm sounds of their oud, "So, uh, Juniper, d'ye do many private fittin's—ne—I mean, d' ye see a lot o' customers—erm—d' ye get a lot 'f business this time 'f year?"

Gods, they couldn't help themselves at all! Xav wasn't even sorry, colorless eyelashes fluttering when they chuckled at themselves for such questions.

"Performin's good business in th' colder months, bodies crowdin' in th' warm places like pubs, ye chen. I'd figure makin' clothes keeps ye busy all th' time, what with how lovely ye make things."

⟡ ☾° ⟡
word count: 1036
User avatar
Juniper Feldspar
Posts: 63
Joined: Sun Nov 18, 2018 12:53 pm
Topics: 7
Race: Wick
Character Sheet: https://anaxasdiaries.com/viewtopic.php?t=543t
Post Templates: [url=http:/fullurl/]Post Templates[/url]
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Foxing
Contact:

Fri Feb 22, 2019 6:46 am

Image
Feldspar Tailoring| Mid Afternoon
22nd VORTAS 2718
The musician's tactile nature was clear as they followed the tailor's lead, and Juniper allowed himself the smallest of smiles as out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed pale, delicate fingers ghosting over everything pretty in sight. Their preening before his carefully-set mirrors was met with a warmer smile- no false modesty for this one, they were stunning, why shouldn't they enjoy it?

But upstairs-after that little touch to his shoulder that made him duck his head bashfully- seeing them in his little living space, the first person to come up here since Cecelia had bustled around helping him move in, it was both alien and comforting, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt.

Beans in his little handheld coffee mill, he turned to lean against the dresser and continue their conversation as he turned the handle, but found himself speechless. Miranda, who had left his shoulders to wheel about the space when he entered, settled herself on the table in neat coils, but she wasn't what caught his attention.

The Gioran had settled in the window seat- Juniper's favourite spot, naturally- and the cold winter sun was slanting in through the myriad panes at just the right angle to catch the translucent filaments of their hair. Bent over their lovely instrument, slender fingers dancing over dark wood and strings, nestled in among bright cushions in rich purple velvet and shining turquoise taffeta and golden brocade, they were so beautiful it made his heart hurt.

...why would they...I'm not…


Ever since he worked out what he liked, was shown what he liked, every encounter had been variations on a theme. Men who wanted to break him, to make him small, hear him beg.

And while he somehow liked that- so much it made him burn with shame- it was never about him. He always felt like a means to an end.

Just for once, even if he never saw them again… just for once…

...could it be about me...please…

The music spilled out softly into his little flat, barely even a tune, but enough to weave another layer of longing that was threatening to spill over into melancholy.

But Xavier was speaking, and as the words filtered though, he realised it was a compliment to his home.

“Thankye, I've tried. I only moved in mid- Yaris, but getting the shop benny was fair important, so I'm only just beginning to feel like this space is mine proper.”

The sound of the mill in his hands changed from a gritty grind to a soft whirr, and he stood, unscrewing the top and dipping his head to revel in the scent of freshly-ground beans before stepping over and holding it out for his guest to do the same.

“I love this smell,” he explained with a smile, moving back as he reached for the coffee pot. It was copper, in two parts, and he poured a little of the warming water in the kettle into the base before setting in the little cup full of coffee grounds. The top half was screwed on and it was set on the stove with the kettle, Juniper carefully adjusting the two on the small iron surface. Turning back to Xavier, he reached down a coffee cup in readiness for when the kettle boiled, which shouldn’t be long, he could already hear the slow churning of liquid in the copper pot.

Blushing at the implication behind the phrase 'private fittings’, the tailor turned the cup in his hands as he leaned against the dresser once more, blue eyes trained on the slate grey stoneware rather than...

“...and it's been fair keja, ever since I set up. Word got round the gollies and I guess they like...what I have to offer…um…”

His hand fumbled slightly, and rather than drop the cup, he set it down just in time to hear the pot ease into a low rumble, the sound he’d been waiting for.

Glad for an opportunity to turn his back on the musician and catch his breath, he busied himself with preparing the coffee, a double inch of steaming dark liquid from the pot.

“I have sugar, and cream if you want it…” he took a deep breath, still looking down at his hands as he took the now-whistling kettle off the stove using a little patchwork potholder, setting it on a wrought-iron trivet on the dresser.

“...and I've not had a soul up here for a fitting. Or anything else, since my friend helped me settle.”


The words were low, but clear enough to be heard over the soft notes of the oud as he stretched up to reach down the sugar. Why did he keep the damned stuff on the top shelf? Must look clocking mung for him to be on tiptoe in his own godsblessed home.
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