On the Finding of Pants
No one takes you seriously if you lack pants. This is not something I had ever had cause to learn in my prior life, but it is a fact I have had ample opportunity to validate in the last few hours.
I left my shelter in search of pants. There were other people around, as bedraggled as me, though all had pants.
Once upon a time I knew how to fight another using only my hands, feet, and burning aching desire to be victorious. Such "arts," if I can even call them an art, are crude at best. I ceased practice of them as soon as I learned magic.
Here, though, it appears that power does not come from the shaft of a wand. I considered trying to fight someone for their pants, but realized that I would only be endangering myself, and cannot protect or heal myself with a simple spell.
Instead I befriended one of the lost people around me. It took several attempts to find someone who would not laugh at me and move off or shrink away in fear.
"Pardon me," I asked. (I have been polite in the past, when I was a court member; it, at least, is a skill I recall.) "I require pants. Do you know where I might obtain some?"
I will not record the tedious banter that preceeded the fellow finally telling me that someone known as Our Lady of Mercy has clothes which she evidently doles out as a matter of course. He gave me directions and I set out to meet this woman.
Then I stopped and made a makeshift wrap out of a shiny black material, flexible but smelling of refuse.
I left my shelter in search of pants. There were other people around, as bedraggled as me, though all had pants.
Once upon a time I knew how to fight another using only my hands, feet, and burning aching desire to be victorious. Such "arts," if I can even call them an art, are crude at best. I ceased practice of them as soon as I learned magic.
Here, though, it appears that power does not come from the shaft of a wand. I considered trying to fight someone for their pants, but realized that I would only be endangering myself, and cannot protect or heal myself with a simple spell.
Instead I befriended one of the lost people around me. It took several attempts to find someone who would not laugh at me and move off or shrink away in fear.
"Pardon me," I asked. (I have been polite in the past, when I was a court member; it, at least, is a skill I recall.) "I require pants. Do you know where I might obtain some?"
I will not record the tedious banter that preceeded the fellow finally telling me that someone known as Our Lady of Mercy has clothes which she evidently doles out as a matter of course. He gave me directions and I set out to meet this woman.
Then I stopped and made a makeshift wrap out of a shiny black material, flexible but smelling of refuse.