Log: E'dre's Dress
RL: May 12, 2008.
VR: Day 6, month 5, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a spring morning.
Not that E'dre wears the dress. The dress is for Leova.
(Includes work-safe photo below the cut)
Vrianth senses that Wroth crashes into the green's thoughts, echos of thunder and swirling winds bouncing off of a deep ravine. << Vrianth! If you are free, I would appreciate it if you and yours would come to my ledge. Mine has been working on a present for yours. It is almost finished. >> A slip of fabric is shown, hues of golden and green.
Wroth senses that Vrianth rolls with the punches, making off with all that energy to her own ends and giving him pleased lightning in reply: << Soon. I will not tell her why, but soon. She must finish eating first. >> It's a sandwich of sorts, pancakes layered with bacon, none of it particularly interesting to one who likes her menu still living. Except that her Leova is hungry. And so it isn't much more than half an hour before Vrianth can be heard, << Wroth! We come. >> She even gives him a few booms like his own thunder, for fun.
Vrianth senses that Wroth allows the answering booms to resound in the ravine, sounds bouncing back and forth like replicated drumming. << You are kinder to her than I am to mine. I would have made him stop eating. >> He has made room for her on his ledge, his angular head lifting to inspect her as she descends. He grinds out a warble-attempt of greeting. << Welcome. We shall sun together, then. >> Not a request, but a demand.
<< I am, aren't I. >> She's amused, and it shows in the lightness of her descent and long, playful scrape of a landing, bright-sparked eyes on the larger dragon whose home this is. As she lets her Leova down, she confides, << Sometimes, when you put it that way, it makes me want to find shade. Just so you will fuss. But I like sun. >> And him. She examines his ledge, for once indecisive: where to sit, where to settle. Her tail swishes.
Just inside the entrance, E'dre has set up his work shop. Bolts of fabric tumble down across a table, half-patched together bits of clothing drape on a chair, and sketches line the bed in the far corner. He is just finishing the touches on his latest creation.
This dress is different than the former tailor's usual creations. It has no inspirations that beg of Igen, or even Boll. It is a dress fitting for High Reaches, with a floor-length tulle skirt and a shawl that is made of the same fabric. Hues of gray are overlapped, bringing a fullness to the skirts that pool around the body. The bodice is form-fitting, corset-like in its strapless nature and tied back. Zigzags of gray and white move down at an angle and add emphasis to the body's natural shape.
(Picture found by E'dre's player)
Entering, Leova slows. And stops. She thrusts her hands into her jacket's pocket, for she's still wearing the same interchangeable workday clothes she had before she was tapped. "E'dre?" she says. Warily.
Vrianth senses that Wroth swings his head around to stare at the green unblinkingly, though surprise is clearly in his mind voice. << You would do something to make me fuss? >> He snorts, head shaking as he rustles his wings against his back. << I am glad you like the sun. It is best angled here this time of day. >> His thunder crackles in the distance. << If you come closer, we may enjoy each other's warmth as well. >> His voice has the first hints of sensualness directed towards her.
<< /I/ am not afraid of your thunder, Wroth, >> the young green's thoughts sparked bright as before, even as she prowls. Closer. Just a little closer, enough to brush wingtips perhaps, especially if she extends them as she does. If there's something about his tone that she finds confusing, or unsettling, it shows only in a hint of underlying static just now. << But if I come too close, then I will shade you. And you will not have as much sun. >> And does that not bother him?
E'dre turns at the voice, not having been alerted by Wroth. He looks momentarily aggravated and then he smoothes his features over. "Hi, Leova. Thank you for coming. Wroth didn't say when you'd make it, only that he told you to come here." He takes a step back from the mannequin so she can look full-on at the project hanging there. "I don't know if I got your measurements right, I sorta guessed." He finger-combs his hair, giving her a lopsided smile. "But since I made dresses for Millie and Vivy, I thought you might like one too."
Wroth bespoke Vrianth with << You are ever so smart, Vrianth. It is why I talk more to you than the others. You are right, it would block the sun from my hide. >> His wing-tips brush against hers, even as he collects that undercurrent of static towards him for inspection. His body lounges out on the ledge, taking up most of the room. He is polite - but only to a certain extent. << Do you think yours will be pleased mine surprised her? He is like that. I find it quite calculating. >>
"Welcome." Leova hesitates. "Dragons full of surprises today." Only then he steps back, leaving her eyes to narrow on the mannequin: that long skirt that would rustle while its wearer walked, so very full and soft compared to the corseted construction of the bodice that at once reveals and guards. But gray. They're both gray. And then that amber gaze hits him. "Impressive. And a lot of work, must have been. And that material. Why?"
E'dre's brows give the barest of twitches at her reaction. "I don't know. I thought gray would go with any weather and look nice against a green backdrop, like Vrianth's hide. I liked the way the tulle looked when I went to the Weaver's hall." He shrugs his shoulders, looking almost chastized now. "It was the cheapest. I don't have as much marks as I used to," that's mumbled as he bends down to twitch the skirt. "But, do you like it?"
Wroth senses that Vrianth relinquishes the static if he wants it, the wispy hisses of black and white that prick against nerves, because even as he takes it more develops. It's not that she's unaccustomed to sensuousness, never has been since she was first hatched and oiled, but he seems to see something she does not. And that's unusual. << She does not like surprises, >> the green explains finally, not yet settled, looking up at his once upon a time trees now. << But I like her to have surprises. >> And dragons know best, do they not?
Vrianth senses that Wroth toys with the static, increasing the electricity to little points of lightening. Back and forth it zips, until it forms a tiny ball of energy that hovers between them. << Surprises are good for them. Mine is used to it now, as I am always booming at him when he least expects it. He complains of headaches sometimes to the healers. >> A mental shrug. << I do not care. He is being weak. >> He offers the small globe of energy to her as if it were the most beautiful pearl found in the sea. << For you. >>
Cheapest. Funny thing is, that's the word that gets Leova to relax. Visibly. "No, you wouldn't have, would you." She takes a deeper breath. Moves closer. Reaches to finger the material, too. "Been a long time since you were a tailor full-time. Long time since we were candidates, even. That time in the dragon infirmary. The hunt." She looks at him: does he remember? She does. Even through the months of working together as weyrlings, months that made it not matter now. She remembers. "And yes. It's really something. What would I owe you, E'dre?"
Wroth senses that Vrianth observes this transformation with new interest, starting to reach out, but in the end letting him make what he will of it. And it's rewarded: she takes that energy-ball back to her, rolls it over, over and over, the newer static disappearing back into its source. << You changed it, >> she says, intrigued. Although she adds, << If you strengthen him up so very much, then he will not jump when you boom, and what fun will that be? >> still her focus is on that little energy-ball. And then, all at once, she drains the energy back out of it. It falls. She /shines/.
E'dre he doesn't seem to remember any altercations, as he's got his usual easy smile on. He shakes his head, flapping a hand at her. "There's no charge, Leova. Say you owe me a favor or some-such thing. I did the same for Shanlee. It worked to my advantage, got a flight out of it as a candidate." He moves to the back of the mannequin, going about lifting the dress off. "Try it on? I need to make the final adjustments before I can give it to you."
Vrianth senses that Wroth seems intrigued, watching her play with the energy ball. << You are right. I had not considered that. I do not want him to get used to the booming. It will make my fun less. >> Down, down, down the energy-ball drops and then it bursts into a scattered amount of energy that illuminates the green in his mind's eye. He whistles, a low and chirruping sound. << You are spectacular, Vrianth. I do believe I am what E'dre says 'in love'. >>
"Don't know about favors," Leova says plainly. "That could be a pretty big favor, not just a dragonride." Just: she can say that now. "Tell me more, the sort of thing you'd want. And, all right, I'll try it on. If nothing else, to see whether it stays up." With that last, her mouth tugs into a smile, making it teasing for all that it seems a very real concern.
Poor ball: but it was Vrianth's energy to begin with, however nervous, and she's not nervous now. << So if he thinks you have relaxed, >> comes her gravelly voice, << Then when you do boom at him, he will be more surprised. And he will not waste time with the healers that he could spend with you... But what is this, Wroth, this 'in love'? Explain it. >> Spectacular, now, /that/ she will agree with, though without surprise: after all, she always has been.
"Okay, well. I don't know what exactly to say," E'dre answers her, looking a little nervous now as he rubs at the back of his neck. "I just.. wanted to do something nice for you." He shrugs, looking back at the mannequin. He gently frees the dress from the wooden frame and folds it over his arm to hand towards her. "You can go to the back room and try it on. There's a mirror there." He grins, a little more at ease now as he falls into his old business manner. "Then you can come out, I'll tack what needs to be taken in and mark what needs to be let out."
And Leova could leave it at that. But she doesn't, quite, even as she takes the entrancing rustle of the dress from him. "So you'd be fine with something not /too/ huge?" she asks him searchingly, amber eyes on darker brown. "Something I can gladly give you." And with that she retreats to the back room. But she's listening, all through the unfastenings and foldings and all it takes to get changed.
Wroth bespoke Vrianth with << I do not know how to explain it. You should ask yours what it means to her. It is different between everyone. Mine thought Milani might be 'in love' with him and then it turned out she was not. >> He offers the driest of snorts, storm-clouds crackling overhead. << I was not pleased with that, but I have never liked her. I am just hinting that I like you, I think. >>
Wroth senses that Vrianth can be fine with that, smoothing over what had been emerging static to take it simply. << You need not hint. I like you also. >> Teasing, even as she nestles her head on curled paws, << And your sunshine. >> Warm, warm, warm on his ledge.
E'dre has a steady enough gaze as she searches him, though his smile waivers. "I don't know, Leova. You can pay me marks, if you're overworried about it. But just for the cost of fabric and stuff, not my services." He shrugs, watching as she retreats into the backroom. He goes into a cabinet and pulls out a thermos of klah to pour into two glasses for when she returns. His own mug is given a dash of liquid from the flask he keeps in his jacket pocket.
Vrianth senses that Wroth is smug now, especially after her inclination to rest on his ledge. << It is warm, is it not? I like it up here. You can watch the others pass below. >> He shares an image of him on the ledge, looking down and watching a bluerider and her dragon interact in the bowl.
Overworried. It wasn't so long ago that Leova would have bristled at that. At it is, she's careful not to, even as she's careful easing into the dress, careful with all that tulle. Her words come a few at a time, not all at once. "Call it just concerned. You don't mind letting it slide until you find a favor we like, that's fine. Just, not everyone would be that way. You know? And with real wings now. Not just Flurry. People change." She emerges with some awkwardness, her arms crossed, hands an even darker brown than the bare, muscular shoulders they rest on. But she manages the skirt all right despite its fullness: not her first time in a dress-up gown, then.
Wroth senses that Vrianth obligingly views his image, then goes so far as to stretch out her neck to look down: people passing. And dragons. And then she yawns, head tipping back to blow warm breath to the sky like so much fire, and rests more comfortably again. The rest of the world, beyond their ledge, might not even exist.
E'dre hands her the mug of klah he'd poured for her, even as his eyes do a once over of her frame. Professionally, of course. He nods his head and offers her a brighter smile. "It looks good on you, do you like it?" He sips from his own klah and then flops down into a chair, looking up at her with the tiniest of creases between his brows. "I get this feeling that you're mad at me. Don't ask me why, maybe I'm just on edge from something else... but, well, I hope I'm not being too pushy?"
Vrianth senses that Wroth watches her, closely as she leans over. As she settles down to silence, he gathers all his bustling energy to himself and stores it away. He too reclines, head lounging over the edge to lazily watch those passing below him.
Not that Vrianth goes to sleep. Instead she lets her low-lidded eyes rest on the scenery: the ancient trees, the way he looks over the ledge and the line of his wings, the odd cloud floating in the sky. The surface of her mind holds a low-level, slow-moving current, and the length of her tail curves along the stone, its tip playing with the old roots. Quiet.
"I like it," Leova can quickly, truthfully say. She has to lower one hand to take the klah, and then it's off-balance so she lowers the other, turning slowly so she won't spill the drink while the skirt whispers about her legs. "Thank you for thinking of me." She too sits, near him, and gives him another searching look. "And, not mad at you. It's, guess you could say it's complicated. Don't know how much you want to know."
"Well, as it involves me, I'd like to know what makes it complicated," E'dre returns, brow-crease becoming more pronounced as he looks at her. He sips from his klah and then sets it down on the table. He bends forward in the chair, giving the tulle a twitch so it resettles into a nicer crease against her leg. Straightening, he looks at her and tilts his head. "Am I so imposing that you can't talk openly with me? I think we've been through enough together - as far as training goes - to speak plainly with each other."
"Not imposing," Leova differs. She starts to put an elbow on the table, but stops mid-lean as the bodice constrains her, settling for cupping the mug in her hands and sipping as delicately as he's ever seen her. "Just, what I said. Didn't know how much. Especially since it mostly isn't you." She drinks again, slower now to speak, her smile finally emerging in a soft, barely-there curve. "Haven't worn anything like this in longer than long. Just brings back the way it was, you know? Though this is even fancier. And no shoulders even." She pets the skirt again, slowly still. "Recently had one person avoid me, because of our dragons. Another one was... extravagant. Vivy, don't know /what's/ up with her. Makes me halfway miss the barracks."
E'dre takes a sip from his klah, listening to her while his eyes flicker down towards that skirt again and then up to the bodice. He's noticing how she moves in it, cataloguing what changes might need to be made to make it fit better. "It looks nice on you," he offers that first, before his frown pushes forward over the rim of the mug. "Because of your dragons? If people avoid us based on the fact of our dragons, I'd be hard pressed not to bounce their head off of a wall. Wroth's a real pain. I think the only dragon who /speaks/ to him nowadays is Vrianth." He shakes his head and then waves a hand in dismissal of Vivy. "She's uptight, as ever. Don't worry about it." He smiles at her, "You can come and pester me anytime you want. I tend to keep to myself these days."
Leova sees him noticing, and for a moment her smile deepens. But then she sets down the mug and keeps it simple, trying little stretches for him, not hiding the wince if the boning digs in here or the lighter smile when the garment moves with her there: the sort of thing a tailor might actually want to see. "Not because Vrianth's a pain. More of an... anti-pain." She slides a look at him. "Glad you don't mind Wroth taking to her. But. Keeping to yourself, how come? Not just him. I hope."
"Well," E'dre moves to speak on the subject, thinks better of it, then shakes his head. He's never been one to keep thoughts to himself. "I just had an interesting run-in with Milani. Made me want to have some time to myself, away from the gossiping and stuff." He twitches a shoulder, offering her a crooked smile. "Rather silly of me, really. But I don't have many friends here to begin with so it's easy enough to just fall into my old habits." He waves a hand at the dress, "I just put myself to work after drills and things. Clears my head." He reaches forward, "Do you mind? I want to see something." Without waiting for her response, he lightly places a finger at the side of the bodice, judging the room that's between her and the fabric. "I might let that out a little bit. I hadn't realized you were bigger in the chest." He grins at her, eyes twinkling merrily. "Not that I'd complain about finding such a thing out."
And if he wants to know, "She just said she changed her mind. But that you treated her right." Leova studies him a moment. "Don't have to worry about gossip. Don't think she said anything to hardly anyone, she's the one embarrassed. But no. Not easy on a man's pride." And it's a good thing he gave her some warning, because even with it she still stiffens when he touches her. Watching. But she holds still. "Everything's usually pretty bound down. Let's call it our little secret," and that very dry.
E'dre is more focused on the bodice and when he finally pulls back to lean in the chair once more, he's schooled his features enough to not give way his thoughts. "All that matters, is that she's still my friend." He clears his throat and then reaches for his klah, draining it in one gulp. "You shouldn't bound them down all the time, Leova. You're very striking in that dress, but I'm sure you could be equally striking if you wore nicer things when you're off-duty." He speaks easily on that subject, even though he's 'closeted' himself away, he is still dressed in nice, rich-looking, clothing.
"She is. So's L'vae. Melata keeps him hopping even more than you, but pretty positive he'd like the company," Leova more suggests than hints. Another sidelong look is followed by a slight twist of a smile. "Pretty sure you're right. Not so sure that's a good idea. And I better get changed before anything gets messed." She sets down her half-drained mug and heads back into the room to swap clothing. It won't take too long, and that way they can talk as she finishes up her klah and perhaps he might have a refill, finish up the morning before her afternoon on watch.
VR: Day 6, month 5, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a spring morning.
Not that E'dre wears the dress. The dress is for Leova.
(Includes work-safe photo below the cut)
Vrianth senses that Wroth crashes into the green's thoughts, echos of thunder and swirling winds bouncing off of a deep ravine. << Vrianth! If you are free, I would appreciate it if you and yours would come to my ledge. Mine has been working on a present for yours. It is almost finished. >> A slip of fabric is shown, hues of golden and green.
Wroth senses that Vrianth rolls with the punches, making off with all that energy to her own ends and giving him pleased lightning in reply: << Soon. I will not tell her why, but soon. She must finish eating first. >> It's a sandwich of sorts, pancakes layered with bacon, none of it particularly interesting to one who likes her menu still living. Except that her Leova is hungry. And so it isn't much more than half an hour before Vrianth can be heard, << Wroth! We come. >> She even gives him a few booms like his own thunder, for fun.
Vrianth senses that Wroth allows the answering booms to resound in the ravine, sounds bouncing back and forth like replicated drumming. << You are kinder to her than I am to mine. I would have made him stop eating. >> He has made room for her on his ledge, his angular head lifting to inspect her as she descends. He grinds out a warble-attempt of greeting. << Welcome. We shall sun together, then. >> Not a request, but a demand.
<< I am, aren't I. >> She's amused, and it shows in the lightness of her descent and long, playful scrape of a landing, bright-sparked eyes on the larger dragon whose home this is. As she lets her Leova down, she confides, << Sometimes, when you put it that way, it makes me want to find shade. Just so you will fuss. But I like sun. >> And him. She examines his ledge, for once indecisive: where to sit, where to settle. Her tail swishes.
Just inside the entrance, E'dre has set up his work shop. Bolts of fabric tumble down across a table, half-patched together bits of clothing drape on a chair, and sketches line the bed in the far corner. He is just finishing the touches on his latest creation.
This dress is different than the former tailor's usual creations. It has no inspirations that beg of Igen, or even Boll. It is a dress fitting for High Reaches, with a floor-length tulle skirt and a shawl that is made of the same fabric. Hues of gray are overlapped, bringing a fullness to the skirts that pool around the body. The bodice is form-fitting, corset-like in its strapless nature and tied back. Zigzags of gray and white move down at an angle and add emphasis to the body's natural shape.
(Picture found by E'dre's player)
Entering, Leova slows. And stops. She thrusts her hands into her jacket's pocket, for she's still wearing the same interchangeable workday clothes she had before she was tapped. "E'dre?" she says. Warily.
Vrianth senses that Wroth swings his head around to stare at the green unblinkingly, though surprise is clearly in his mind voice. << You would do something to make me fuss? >> He snorts, head shaking as he rustles his wings against his back. << I am glad you like the sun. It is best angled here this time of day. >> His thunder crackles in the distance. << If you come closer, we may enjoy each other's warmth as well. >> His voice has the first hints of sensualness directed towards her.
<< /I/ am not afraid of your thunder, Wroth, >> the young green's thoughts sparked bright as before, even as she prowls. Closer. Just a little closer, enough to brush wingtips perhaps, especially if she extends them as she does. If there's something about his tone that she finds confusing, or unsettling, it shows only in a hint of underlying static just now. << But if I come too close, then I will shade you. And you will not have as much sun. >> And does that not bother him?
E'dre turns at the voice, not having been alerted by Wroth. He looks momentarily aggravated and then he smoothes his features over. "Hi, Leova. Thank you for coming. Wroth didn't say when you'd make it, only that he told you to come here." He takes a step back from the mannequin so she can look full-on at the project hanging there. "I don't know if I got your measurements right, I sorta guessed." He finger-combs his hair, giving her a lopsided smile. "But since I made dresses for Millie and Vivy, I thought you might like one too."
Wroth bespoke Vrianth with << You are ever so smart, Vrianth. It is why I talk more to you than the others. You are right, it would block the sun from my hide. >> His wing-tips brush against hers, even as he collects that undercurrent of static towards him for inspection. His body lounges out on the ledge, taking up most of the room. He is polite - but only to a certain extent. << Do you think yours will be pleased mine surprised her? He is like that. I find it quite calculating. >>
"Welcome." Leova hesitates. "Dragons full of surprises today." Only then he steps back, leaving her eyes to narrow on the mannequin: that long skirt that would rustle while its wearer walked, so very full and soft compared to the corseted construction of the bodice that at once reveals and guards. But gray. They're both gray. And then that amber gaze hits him. "Impressive. And a lot of work, must have been. And that material. Why?"
E'dre's brows give the barest of twitches at her reaction. "I don't know. I thought gray would go with any weather and look nice against a green backdrop, like Vrianth's hide. I liked the way the tulle looked when I went to the Weaver's hall." He shrugs his shoulders, looking almost chastized now. "It was the cheapest. I don't have as much marks as I used to," that's mumbled as he bends down to twitch the skirt. "But, do you like it?"
Wroth senses that Vrianth relinquishes the static if he wants it, the wispy hisses of black and white that prick against nerves, because even as he takes it more develops. It's not that she's unaccustomed to sensuousness, never has been since she was first hatched and oiled, but he seems to see something she does not. And that's unusual. << She does not like surprises, >> the green explains finally, not yet settled, looking up at his once upon a time trees now. << But I like her to have surprises. >> And dragons know best, do they not?
Vrianth senses that Wroth toys with the static, increasing the electricity to little points of lightening. Back and forth it zips, until it forms a tiny ball of energy that hovers between them. << Surprises are good for them. Mine is used to it now, as I am always booming at him when he least expects it. He complains of headaches sometimes to the healers. >> A mental shrug. << I do not care. He is being weak. >> He offers the small globe of energy to her as if it were the most beautiful pearl found in the sea. << For you. >>
Cheapest. Funny thing is, that's the word that gets Leova to relax. Visibly. "No, you wouldn't have, would you." She takes a deeper breath. Moves closer. Reaches to finger the material, too. "Been a long time since you were a tailor full-time. Long time since we were candidates, even. That time in the dragon infirmary. The hunt." She looks at him: does he remember? She does. Even through the months of working together as weyrlings, months that made it not matter now. She remembers. "And yes. It's really something. What would I owe you, E'dre?"
Wroth senses that Vrianth observes this transformation with new interest, starting to reach out, but in the end letting him make what he will of it. And it's rewarded: she takes that energy-ball back to her, rolls it over, over and over, the newer static disappearing back into its source. << You changed it, >> she says, intrigued. Although she adds, << If you strengthen him up so very much, then he will not jump when you boom, and what fun will that be? >> still her focus is on that little energy-ball. And then, all at once, she drains the energy back out of it. It falls. She /shines/.
E'dre he doesn't seem to remember any altercations, as he's got his usual easy smile on. He shakes his head, flapping a hand at her. "There's no charge, Leova. Say you owe me a favor or some-such thing. I did the same for Shanlee. It worked to my advantage, got a flight out of it as a candidate." He moves to the back of the mannequin, going about lifting the dress off. "Try it on? I need to make the final adjustments before I can give it to you."
Vrianth senses that Wroth seems intrigued, watching her play with the energy ball. << You are right. I had not considered that. I do not want him to get used to the booming. It will make my fun less. >> Down, down, down the energy-ball drops and then it bursts into a scattered amount of energy that illuminates the green in his mind's eye. He whistles, a low and chirruping sound. << You are spectacular, Vrianth. I do believe I am what E'dre says 'in love'. >>
"Don't know about favors," Leova says plainly. "That could be a pretty big favor, not just a dragonride." Just: she can say that now. "Tell me more, the sort of thing you'd want. And, all right, I'll try it on. If nothing else, to see whether it stays up." With that last, her mouth tugs into a smile, making it teasing for all that it seems a very real concern.
Poor ball: but it was Vrianth's energy to begin with, however nervous, and she's not nervous now. << So if he thinks you have relaxed, >> comes her gravelly voice, << Then when you do boom at him, he will be more surprised. And he will not waste time with the healers that he could spend with you... But what is this, Wroth, this 'in love'? Explain it. >> Spectacular, now, /that/ she will agree with, though without surprise: after all, she always has been.
"Okay, well. I don't know what exactly to say," E'dre answers her, looking a little nervous now as he rubs at the back of his neck. "I just.. wanted to do something nice for you." He shrugs, looking back at the mannequin. He gently frees the dress from the wooden frame and folds it over his arm to hand towards her. "You can go to the back room and try it on. There's a mirror there." He grins, a little more at ease now as he falls into his old business manner. "Then you can come out, I'll tack what needs to be taken in and mark what needs to be let out."
And Leova could leave it at that. But she doesn't, quite, even as she takes the entrancing rustle of the dress from him. "So you'd be fine with something not /too/ huge?" she asks him searchingly, amber eyes on darker brown. "Something I can gladly give you." And with that she retreats to the back room. But she's listening, all through the unfastenings and foldings and all it takes to get changed.
Wroth bespoke Vrianth with << I do not know how to explain it. You should ask yours what it means to her. It is different between everyone. Mine thought Milani might be 'in love' with him and then it turned out she was not. >> He offers the driest of snorts, storm-clouds crackling overhead. << I was not pleased with that, but I have never liked her. I am just hinting that I like you, I think. >>
Wroth senses that Vrianth can be fine with that, smoothing over what had been emerging static to take it simply. << You need not hint. I like you also. >> Teasing, even as she nestles her head on curled paws, << And your sunshine. >> Warm, warm, warm on his ledge.
E'dre has a steady enough gaze as she searches him, though his smile waivers. "I don't know, Leova. You can pay me marks, if you're overworried about it. But just for the cost of fabric and stuff, not my services." He shrugs, watching as she retreats into the backroom. He goes into a cabinet and pulls out a thermos of klah to pour into two glasses for when she returns. His own mug is given a dash of liquid from the flask he keeps in his jacket pocket.
Vrianth senses that Wroth is smug now, especially after her inclination to rest on his ledge. << It is warm, is it not? I like it up here. You can watch the others pass below. >> He shares an image of him on the ledge, looking down and watching a bluerider and her dragon interact in the bowl.
Overworried. It wasn't so long ago that Leova would have bristled at that. At it is, she's careful not to, even as she's careful easing into the dress, careful with all that tulle. Her words come a few at a time, not all at once. "Call it just concerned. You don't mind letting it slide until you find a favor we like, that's fine. Just, not everyone would be that way. You know? And with real wings now. Not just Flurry. People change." She emerges with some awkwardness, her arms crossed, hands an even darker brown than the bare, muscular shoulders they rest on. But she manages the skirt all right despite its fullness: not her first time in a dress-up gown, then.
Wroth senses that Vrianth obligingly views his image, then goes so far as to stretch out her neck to look down: people passing. And dragons. And then she yawns, head tipping back to blow warm breath to the sky like so much fire, and rests more comfortably again. The rest of the world, beyond their ledge, might not even exist.
E'dre hands her the mug of klah he'd poured for her, even as his eyes do a once over of her frame. Professionally, of course. He nods his head and offers her a brighter smile. "It looks good on you, do you like it?" He sips from his own klah and then flops down into a chair, looking up at her with the tiniest of creases between his brows. "I get this feeling that you're mad at me. Don't ask me why, maybe I'm just on edge from something else... but, well, I hope I'm not being too pushy?"
Vrianth senses that Wroth watches her, closely as she leans over. As she settles down to silence, he gathers all his bustling energy to himself and stores it away. He too reclines, head lounging over the edge to lazily watch those passing below him.
Not that Vrianth goes to sleep. Instead she lets her low-lidded eyes rest on the scenery: the ancient trees, the way he looks over the ledge and the line of his wings, the odd cloud floating in the sky. The surface of her mind holds a low-level, slow-moving current, and the length of her tail curves along the stone, its tip playing with the old roots. Quiet.
"I like it," Leova can quickly, truthfully say. She has to lower one hand to take the klah, and then it's off-balance so she lowers the other, turning slowly so she won't spill the drink while the skirt whispers about her legs. "Thank you for thinking of me." She too sits, near him, and gives him another searching look. "And, not mad at you. It's, guess you could say it's complicated. Don't know how much you want to know."
"Well, as it involves me, I'd like to know what makes it complicated," E'dre returns, brow-crease becoming more pronounced as he looks at her. He sips from his klah and then sets it down on the table. He bends forward in the chair, giving the tulle a twitch so it resettles into a nicer crease against her leg. Straightening, he looks at her and tilts his head. "Am I so imposing that you can't talk openly with me? I think we've been through enough together - as far as training goes - to speak plainly with each other."
"Not imposing," Leova differs. She starts to put an elbow on the table, but stops mid-lean as the bodice constrains her, settling for cupping the mug in her hands and sipping as delicately as he's ever seen her. "Just, what I said. Didn't know how much. Especially since it mostly isn't you." She drinks again, slower now to speak, her smile finally emerging in a soft, barely-there curve. "Haven't worn anything like this in longer than long. Just brings back the way it was, you know? Though this is even fancier. And no shoulders even." She pets the skirt again, slowly still. "Recently had one person avoid me, because of our dragons. Another one was... extravagant. Vivy, don't know /what's/ up with her. Makes me halfway miss the barracks."
E'dre takes a sip from his klah, listening to her while his eyes flicker down towards that skirt again and then up to the bodice. He's noticing how she moves in it, cataloguing what changes might need to be made to make it fit better. "It looks nice on you," he offers that first, before his frown pushes forward over the rim of the mug. "Because of your dragons? If people avoid us based on the fact of our dragons, I'd be hard pressed not to bounce their head off of a wall. Wroth's a real pain. I think the only dragon who /speaks/ to him nowadays is Vrianth." He shakes his head and then waves a hand in dismissal of Vivy. "She's uptight, as ever. Don't worry about it." He smiles at her, "You can come and pester me anytime you want. I tend to keep to myself these days."
Leova sees him noticing, and for a moment her smile deepens. But then she sets down the mug and keeps it simple, trying little stretches for him, not hiding the wince if the boning digs in here or the lighter smile when the garment moves with her there: the sort of thing a tailor might actually want to see. "Not because Vrianth's a pain. More of an... anti-pain." She slides a look at him. "Glad you don't mind Wroth taking to her. But. Keeping to yourself, how come? Not just him. I hope."
"Well," E'dre moves to speak on the subject, thinks better of it, then shakes his head. He's never been one to keep thoughts to himself. "I just had an interesting run-in with Milani. Made me want to have some time to myself, away from the gossiping and stuff." He twitches a shoulder, offering her a crooked smile. "Rather silly of me, really. But I don't have many friends here to begin with so it's easy enough to just fall into my old habits." He waves a hand at the dress, "I just put myself to work after drills and things. Clears my head." He reaches forward, "Do you mind? I want to see something." Without waiting for her response, he lightly places a finger at the side of the bodice, judging the room that's between her and the fabric. "I might let that out a little bit. I hadn't realized you were bigger in the chest." He grins at her, eyes twinkling merrily. "Not that I'd complain about finding such a thing out."
And if he wants to know, "She just said she changed her mind. But that you treated her right." Leova studies him a moment. "Don't have to worry about gossip. Don't think she said anything to hardly anyone, she's the one embarrassed. But no. Not easy on a man's pride." And it's a good thing he gave her some warning, because even with it she still stiffens when he touches her. Watching. But she holds still. "Everything's usually pretty bound down. Let's call it our little secret," and that very dry.
E'dre is more focused on the bodice and when he finally pulls back to lean in the chair once more, he's schooled his features enough to not give way his thoughts. "All that matters, is that she's still my friend." He clears his throat and then reaches for his klah, draining it in one gulp. "You shouldn't bound them down all the time, Leova. You're very striking in that dress, but I'm sure you could be equally striking if you wore nicer things when you're off-duty." He speaks easily on that subject, even though he's 'closeted' himself away, he is still dressed in nice, rich-looking, clothing.
"She is. So's L'vae. Melata keeps him hopping even more than you, but pretty positive he'd like the company," Leova more suggests than hints. Another sidelong look is followed by a slight twist of a smile. "Pretty sure you're right. Not so sure that's a good idea. And I better get changed before anything gets messed." She sets down her half-drained mug and heads back into the room to swap clothing. It won't take too long, and that way they can talk as she finishes up her klah and perhaps he might have a refill, finish up the morning before her afternoon on watch.