The trip back to Vienda was uneventful enough that Tristaan had plenty of time to consider what else was on his list of things to do before the Circus opened in town. While he was slowly whittling away at the savings he had gathered for the Moa that never happened, the passive realized that he could probably use at least a little sprucing up in the wardrobe department. He couldn't remember the last time he had bothered to buy new clothes, at least new nice clothes. It's not like ever had any special occasions to attend. Ever. All that he owned had been repaired by hand or replaced reluctantly when it finally had to be retired. Even though he was thankful he didn't have any real responsibilities to perform in the Circus, it was certainly an excellent excuse to look nice. Surely there was still a galdor-born something nice under all that trail dust?

It had taken a lot of awkward asking around to find a seamstress, and Tristaan had to admit he had no idea what to expect as he wandered the Painted Ladies, once again unarmed to avoid notice, Smirk enjoying the change of scenery from the brim of his hat.

After entering the gate and reading the sign, the passive paused to at least dust off his boots before knocking firmly, trying not to look as out of place as he felt.

Fion opened the front door with a smile on her face. "Hello Sir, what can I do for you?"

She quickly took in his travel worn appearance and decided she was going to throw in an extra shirt on top of whatever he wanted. Probably in red. He looked like he'd look good in red. She caught sight of his bird and grinned more broadly. She liked people that liked animals. She stood aside so the man could walk inside.

Tristaan opened his mouth to greet the woman at the door, but Smirk's black beady eyes quickly fixated on her shiny gold earrings and he chirruped loudly, "Junta!" The little whice's multi-colored feathers puffed up and it seemed to lean further forward on the man's hat, really interested in Fion's head, apparently.

The passive looked up, briefly, in surprise, and then back at the woman, debating whether or not to remove his hat before Smirk found something troublesome to do, "Er. 'Scuse m'little friend," He smiled, speaking quietly as if the whice understood him, "I think'e finds your earrings pretty."

Stepping inside, Tristaan answered Fion's original question while looking around, "Well," He waved an arm at his general appearance, thankful he'd left his worn old overcoat with his weapons back at the Circus, "I appear to be in need of n'improved wardrobe ... Or at least n'article or two for more formal occasions than a sword fight." There was humor in his voice, but mostly at his own expense, "Other than'at, I ent the foggiest clue what I'm after. I'm hopin' you can make some suggestions, however."

As if remembering his manners, he held out a hand with a warm smile, "Name's Tristaan. You come well-recommended 'round here."

Fion smiled broadly at the whice. He was so cute!

"I think he's charming." She said, cocking her head to get a better look at the whice. "Thank him for the complement to my jewelery!"



Fion shook Tristaan's hand warmly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Fion." She showed Tristaan the way to her work room. "How about we fit you for some pants and shirts, then if you decide you want some vests or coats to go with them we can run with that. Do you have any preferences for colours?"

Fion thought he'd look good in some darker colours, perhaps with some bright shirts. She was going to talk him into it if it wasn'this idea of a good time. He'd probably look good with an ornate collar too but she wasn't sure just how far to take that.

The passive removed his hat as he followed Fion, revealing the hints of more aristocratic features under a weathered tan and a slightly unkempt shadow of facial hair. Smirk chirruped in a way that implied he was grumbling at being forced to move. The whice seemed to know what was going on, however, as if this was a common habit, for he let Tristaan turn the hat over so he could plop into where the man's head had been. The bird was rather small, and only some of his crest feathers could be seen above the bowl of the hat, "See there, the nice lady says you can pick her out some jewelry'nother time."

"Mujo ma!" Replied the whice loudly like before, really making it sound like he somehow got what he was told.


Tristaan set his hat and whice down on the closest work table, looking thoughtful. He had no idea how to answer her question and it made him feel really foolish. He had vague memories of nice things from his childhood, but they were really distant. He couldn't really remember the last time he'd gone out of his way to own or wear nice clothing since then. The passive looked at Fion and tried not to sound too pathetic, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck in a bit of sheepishness, "I've never been one t'draw attention. It's not always a good idea ... for me."

He coughed, willing to change the subject with a broadening smile, "But I ent opposed to th'idea of something less Old Rose and more ... er ... city, if y'know what I'm sayin'. I'm actually here helpin' out with the Circus. I'm not performin', just helpin' with the labor bits, y'could say. So, I've got an excuse or two to look nice come openin' day."

"As for colors, I'll have t'be at your discretion." He grinned, "Your judgment is prob'ly much better'n mine."

((*moan* Tart 'em up and ship 'em out! ))

Taking in a good look at Tristaan's aristocratic features she imagined he was attracting more attention than he knew.



Fion nodded.

"The circus, you say? How long have they been in town?" Fion measured Tristaan quickly. "When are they doing shows? I'd quite like to see them. Perhaps you should go with some black pants, a white or red shirt for contrast... You'll need a splash of colour if you go with the white though. You don't want the performers to completely outshine you."

Fion wondered if there was such a thing as a formal bandana...

Tristaan did his best to keep a straight face through the measurement process, "Well, we've been in town since ... the 16th or so. There's been auditions, settin' up, registerin' for permits, an'such. Opening night is the 30th, actually." He smiled, arching an eyebrow, "Maybe I should try to work in some seats as part of my payment t'you?"

The passive considered Fion's suggestions, amused, "Well, I like th'sound of that. A splash o'color has a nice ring to't to me."

Fion normally didn't accept even partial trades as payment but... She really wanted to go.

"That sounds good to me, can you get three?" Fion very much wanted Dem to come. "What sort of acts are they going to have this time round? I haven't been in years."



Fion pulled out some different coloured fabrics, a bright white linen, a scarlet red in fine cotton and some dark fabrics with a wool blend, suitable for slacks. She found some silks as well but quickly discarded them for not being durable enough. She also pulled out a few sample shirts she'd made from dud material, to show the different collars Tristaan might want. A few were simple, button downs, pointed or rounded but the the others were more ornate. She had a few with ruffled designs and one or two that weren't designed to button at all.

"How do you feel about cravats?" Fion asked, after laying all the options out.

Perhaps she should have suggested something green as well...

Tristaan made a mental note. That made four seats he'd have to work out with Balder, or five if he wanted to sit next to ... Right. It would be an interesting request, but the passive figured it should all fall into place. Business was business, and he didn't mind spending his own coin if he had to. He smiled and nodded at Fion, "Three, eh? I think I can work that out for you."


The man looked over all the options, impressed and overwhelmed at the same time. He could make better selections about the right balance for a blade for any given fighting style than he could make the right choice on something resembling a tie. He sighed, eyes lingering on all the nice fabrics before looking back to the seamstress with a light-hearted laugh, "I hope it ent too pathetic that I have t'admit I ent got the slightest clue."

Fion gave him an understanding smile.

"Not at all, perhaps I can choose a few things for you?" She said, picking out a few styles she thought would suit him.


((Wanna wait for Ivan? ))

((Okies. Someone in the Circus is so going to have to help Tristaan figure out tying anything complicated. It will be amusing.))

"I appreciate th'help." Tristaan smiled, relieved that the seamstress was willing to think through all of this for him. He had no idea that purchasing clothing could be so complicated – who knew all the fancy clothes came with so many choices? No wonder he had never bothered to try that hard.

The seamstress had said the shirts would be ready on the 24th, and here he was. Ivan had decided against the morning smoke this time, but already he was regretting his decision. He thought of the hot smoke filling his lungs to the bottom, and the curves of the pipe. The imaginary curves inexplicably blended into the shape of a sensual peanut. Ivan blinked hard and shook the thoughts out of his head.

Shirts. I'm here to get shirts.

Ivan hoped a new look would delay his immediate recognition by the Old Rose crowd, which would make things much easier for him. There were still many things to arrange for the trip, but he was taking it one item at a time, the way he liked it.
He rapped his neutral tone on the door to the purple house.

((XD You crack me up!))



Fion set aside the few shirts she'd chosen for Tristaan, having explained a little about each and the kinds of neckwear they favoured.

"Please excuse me for a moment," She said, with a pat of Tristaan's arm.

She opened the door with her regular spiel prepared. "Oh! Ivan, it's so good to see you, do come in!"

"Of course." Tristaan nodded, turning to examine all the choices the seamstress had kindly explained, running a hand over his stubbly face in thought while Fion went to answer her door. He was too absorbed in trying to make decisions to be curious.

"Hello! How are you? How's young piran?"

Ivan bowed slightly and walked into the house. He continued.

"Yes I'm here to pick up the shirts, if they're ready?"

It was then he spied the rough looking man who was peering indecisively at some varied items of clothing. He looked clueless. Like Ivan, this was not his element.

The passive glanced over his shoulder at the man walking in as if thankful for the interruption from the slightly overwhelming choices he had no real idea how to make. Studying the man from Fion's work area as he leaned on the table he was just peering over, he could tell the man only appeared to be older than he was. A tiredness crept outward from somewhere inside, but he carried himself well regardless. He didn't look any more comfortable than Tristaan felt, only the passive wasn't sure if the man felt entirely comfortable anywhere.

Quietly, he waited and tried not to stare, still trying to wrap his mind around the possible expansions of his rather limited, though purposeful, wardrobe.

Fion smiled and nodded. "He's doing very well! He made some plates yesterday."

They were a bit wonky but she was using them, her maternal pride was at some kind of peak.

"Your shirts are just out back, I'll go grab them for you. Maybe you and Tristaan can chat while I'm gone." Fion coughed a little. "Tristaan? This is Doctor Mottoni. Ivan, this is Tristaan."

Fion moved her hand between them in a demonstrative fashion as she spoke.

"I'll just be a moment, you boys play nice now!" Fion ducked out back to get the shirts.

Tristaan stood up from leaning on the work table as Fion came and introduced him to the man, sticking out a calloused hand warmly with a smile on his travel-worn features, "Junta! A doctor, eh? Always good t'meet more o'those, I say."

Ivan gripped the hand, and felt the toil in it.

No field.

"How do you do? Yes my surgery is nearby, on Friar road, should you ever be in need of my services. May I ask what you do?"

This man seemed as out of place in Vienda as Ivan felt, and his rugged look and speech suggested he'd been from the Harbour, but Ivan did not want to make assumptions, and besides, he didn't seem quite villanous enough to fit the bill entirely.

The passive smiled at the man, always happy to find a firm, well-practiced handshake. He chuckled a little at the question, unsure of how to answer it when asked by most people. Tristaan had the strange feeling the doctor wouldn't object to his line of work – not because it had the potential to bring him business, but more because the passive suspected he knew such work was sometimes necessary.

He glanced to make sure Fion wasn't on her way back into the room before he spoke quietly, "Well, Doc, at the moment, I'm up here with th'Circus for a break from Old Rose, but usually I'm known to hire out m'sword arm to those who feel th'need."

He spoke up, "Otherwise, I find the odd job here'n'there. Cargo ships. Caravans. The like."

It was nice to be direct, a relief even. The older man had an air about him that the passive had learned to observe as trustworthy; it was something under the surface of his quiet, tired countenance.

"You don't say..."

Ivan had a faraway look for a moment, then snapped back into focus and shot a glance at the direction Fion had disappeared to. He had some time still.

"As it happens, I have need of an escort. I need to pick up a shipment of imported medicine and would like the transaction to be as trouble free as possible. I've spent some time at Old Rose before, but it has been a few years and I don't want to take any chances. I can't come up with a large advance, but afterwards I could pay handsomely. When do you plan to return?"

He looked again in Fion's general direction. It would not be a good idea for her to learn of his involvement in that region, especially as she was an informant. Ivan did not much fancy an internal background investigation would bode well for him in the resistance.

((err hopefully this isn't too, like, sudden! ))

((Maybe, but business is business. If Ivan knows what he's looking for ... it's all good. ))

Tristaan grinned a little at the doctor, not usually one to make quick decisions when it came to his work and time, "I'd rather like t'know th'details of things before I commit ... Just general policy's'all." He sounded happily business-like, seeming to relax at the sound of more familiar things instead of vests and cravats.

His grin turned a little sheepish, but he was not displeased. He was looking forward to something nice to wear, regardless of it's surprising complexities. The thought of traveling and even the slightest potential for a bit of swordplay was even more enticing, especially if it paid, "I ent got a need for an office visit, but I've got free time after I finish my ... shoppin'. What'bout yourself?"

A cool head was what he needed on this trip, and it sounded like this man had it. Ivan had to pick up his new test subjects from the market that afternoon, but beyond that he was free. He knew the perfect place for a sitdown.
He could hear Fion returning. Quickly, he leaned closer and said,
"Meet me at the Toy Lantern at the 9th House. We will talk more then."

He leaned back, and raised his voice to a normal level.

"Unfortunately I'm completely clueless when it comes to selecting clothing. Fion has a good eye though, I'm sure she'll find you something good."

Tristaan smirked, glancing back at the clothes, knowing that it would be worth the confusion, and then grinned at Ivan, "Sounds like a good suggestion ..." And by suggestion, he of course meant he was agreeing to meet later, "And I appreciate the encouragement." Because at least someone here had better know what cravat was best, and it certainly wasn't himself.

The passive returned to leaning on the work table casually, waiting for Fion to return with the doctor's own order of shirts, admittedly curious.

(( ))

Fion swanned back into the room, a neat pile of shirts held in her arms.

"Here you are, Ivan." She said, completely unaware of the conversation that had just taken place. "Do you want to try them on to check the fit? If you'd like to settle the last part of your bill now too, we can do that."

Fion handed Ivan the shirts and gave him a look that made it obvious she wanted to check the final fit and would be sad if he declined.

"Did you two make friends?" She asked, trying to hide her blatant interest in fiddling with clothes.