This thread is ridiculous
[Silence has his arms folded over his chest, delicate fingers drumming a restless beat as he studies the tailer shop before him. He's received a call that he'd been missing work at his job - which, yes, he certainly is, no doubt IRPO is having fits - but that was hardly what the drone on the phone had been talking about. Apparently, in this town, he is expected to make clothes.
It's not as though he can't, either. Mystics have long lives in which to pick up the odd skill such as sewing...and most mystics soon (by their reckoning) find their preferred fashions centuries out of date. Chateau Aiguille has an entire tailor shop devoted especially to clothing their mystics, but any mystic living outside Facinaturu would quickly learn to fend for themselves.
Still, judging by Silence's frown, he's not particularly happy about being instructed to make clothing.
He likes being a patrol officer. He misses being a patrol officer. Chasing criminals and fugitives, fighting monsters, ferreting out corruption, fighting monsters, working alongside the most fascinating cast of sentient beings he's ever even heard of in all his long life, fighting monsters...he's never wanted to trade it for anything else. No one has ever understood his choice to work with IRPO, least of all other mystics, but it's always made him happy.
And from that to...this? Where the most dangerous part of his work is forgetting to wear a thimble? With nothing but quiet, cheerful drones working attentively, and not so much as a grousing Fuse chattering incessantly in his ear?
It's a heartbreaking thought. But...it's not as though he can complain.
Silence sighs, sets his shoulders, and steps inside.]
[Silence will be working sullenly but diligently at his new job as a tailor, and in particular will be churning out some rather...fancy clothing. Specifically, clothing you would see on eighteenth-century nobility. Just in case you didn't think the 50s was enough of a retrograde, you know.
Over a period of weeks(it does take time to make clothing), anyone will be able to encounter Silence under the following circumstances:
A) In the tailor shop, working on something far too frilly! Coworkers (and by that, Abel, we mean...just you) can find him here.
B) For customers, you may notice the...really out of place clothing in the window. If you're from a world or time where that sort of fashion is in style, Silence will be happy to sell such clothing to you! Or take commissions, perhaps, for equally fancy clothes of slightly different styles. If he thinks the drones aren't paying attention, however...he may try to barter with you rather than accepting money.
C) Obviously, Silence makes himself clothing first. So, in surprisingly short order, family members and random people of Mayfield may spot Silence hanging around his house or in town dressed something like this. (He'd be the one in that picture looking like he fell through a fashion time warp.) Feel free to comment. Or mistake him for a cosplaying girl; he gets that all the time.]
It's not as though he can't, either. Mystics have long lives in which to pick up the odd skill such as sewing...and most mystics soon (by their reckoning) find their preferred fashions centuries out of date. Chateau Aiguille has an entire tailor shop devoted especially to clothing their mystics, but any mystic living outside Facinaturu would quickly learn to fend for themselves.
Still, judging by Silence's frown, he's not particularly happy about being instructed to make clothing.
He likes being a patrol officer. He misses being a patrol officer. Chasing criminals and fugitives, fighting monsters, ferreting out corruption, fighting monsters, working alongside the most fascinating cast of sentient beings he's ever even heard of in all his long life, fighting monsters...he's never wanted to trade it for anything else. No one has ever understood his choice to work with IRPO, least of all other mystics, but it's always made him happy.
And from that to...this? Where the most dangerous part of his work is forgetting to wear a thimble? With nothing but quiet, cheerful drones working attentively, and not so much as a grousing Fuse chattering incessantly in his ear?
It's a heartbreaking thought. But...it's not as though he can complain.
Silence sighs, sets his shoulders, and steps inside.]
[Silence will be working sullenly but diligently at his new job as a tailor, and in particular will be churning out some rather...fancy clothing. Specifically, clothing you would see on eighteenth-century nobility. Just in case you didn't think the 50s was enough of a retrograde, you know.
Over a period of weeks(it does take time to make clothing), anyone will be able to encounter Silence under the following circumstances:
A) In the tailor shop, working on something far too frilly! Coworkers (and by that, Abel, we mean...just you) can find him here.
B) For customers, you may notice the...really out of place clothing in the window. If you're from a world or time where that sort of fashion is in style, Silence will be happy to sell such clothing to you! Or take commissions, perhaps, for equally fancy clothes of slightly different styles. If he thinks the drones aren't paying attention, however...he may try to barter with you rather than accepting money.
C) Obviously, Silence makes himself clothing first. So, in surprisingly short order, family members and random people of Mayfield may spot Silence hanging around his house or in town dressed something like this. (He'd be the one in that picture looking like he fell through a fashion time warp.) Feel free to comment. Or mistake him for a cosplaying girl; he gets that all the time.]
