epidemiology | ( semi-closed )

[As any dutiful investigator is first inclined, Haise is quick to set about the task of gathering information. The dossier with which they've been provided gives them the most elementary of understandings where this world is concerned, but it doesn't address enough to give them clear directive. With his experience in Nalawi a sober reminder of what a lack of information — and options — may result in, he's spurred to do all that he can.

His investigations carry him from one business to the next, interviewing patrons and shopkeepers alike. These exchanges yield little by way of fresh information, mostly rumors that seem to be unfounded, or at the very least tell him nothing he didn't already know. Still, he persists, because he will never forget the price Nalanni paid.

Eventually this brings him to the tailor's shop, just in time to catch the beginnings of what he can't imagine to be a conversation that's going anywhere pleasant fast.

He's quick to approach the two, insinuating himself into the conversation as easily as one might slip into water]

Achilles, it's good to see you. [This he offers politely, as is due his associate] Sorry for intruding, but I think she means our clothing won't blend in with the locals.

[Though his clothing isn't at all like Achilles' either, Haise thinks to soften a more pointed observation by including himself]

Their world seems quite different from our homes.

[Like water that douses a fire to relieve its heat, so too does the even keel of Haise's complexion seem to temper Achilles' crackling irascibility. Still his frown makes grave his countenance, but he turns his attention from the cowed seamstress to the young man who stands now beside him.]

Haise, son of Sasaki, well met. There is reason in your speech, for I find myself ignorant to the customs of this land which are so different from those upheld by the Achaeans and indeed seem rude to me for that. Yet already I must give coin that I may have a bed to share with my wife and food enough to sate my appetite - why should I give coin too that I may dress in these strange garments, when already those of ALASTAIR have gifted me with a fresh sweet-smelling tunic and cloak?

[Indeed he stands out with his body clad in a tunic dyed a deep red and woven through with rich purple, hues that only the wealthiest of men may boast in their clothes, and his shoulders draped with a finely woven cloak of vivid blue.]

[Haise won't deny that their resources are limited to start with. It's the first time that he's been provided with any sort of allowance for a mission, and while it was initially a strange provision, he sees the reason for it by now. Unlike previous dispatches, everything here does cost them in currency, or at least can't be gained so freely]

As we are now, we might attract more attention than we want...especially while gathering information. [This strikes him as the most immediate of reasons, though far from the only one] It's true we should be careful with the funds we've been supplied, but shouldn't be also be careful with our apparel? It'd be a shame for such a handsome tunic to be damaged while we're dealing with bandits.

[And their arrival assured that at the very least, the were going to be dealing with plenty of brigands during this mission]

[There follows a pause in which he ponders Haise's words, and the seamstress takes this as her cue to assume the well-worn mantle of her sales pitch. Thus does she sweetly chime in.]

I can even knock down the price a bit if it's for you, handsome. [To which she adds under her breath:] My husband runs the shop - I'm sure it won't be too hard to win his forgiveness. A woman has her ways, you know. [And smoothly she forges forward.] I can't have a customer leave unhappy, no sir. Take a look around, won't you? If you see something you like, I can take it in or let it out for you in a jiff. You'll have it by the time you sit down for supper tonight - that's the Cactus guarantee!

[Achilles regards her still with pinched brow but his ire has ebbed. It is Haise moreso than this obsequious seamstress who sways him, for he remembers well the inconvenience of having only one set of garments: throughout his time upon the shores of Nalawi and again across the wilds of Zeta-12 he had had only the tunic upon his back, which became shabbier with every passing trial through which he toiled. He would not wish for his new garments to follow the same fate.]

Very well, I shall look.

[Haise doesn't anticipate the sales pitch, although he supposes he should have. With an open opportunity, it makes sense that the proprietor — or his wife as the case proves to be — would take advantage of that. No doubt in an outpost town like this, that sort of pursuit is necessary to make ends meet.

For his part, Haise listens politely. After Achilles has given his assent, he nods and glances toward the seamstress]

In that case, we'll have a look around, ourselves.

[Which is to say, they'll be able to take care of themselves from here. As much he appreciates that the woman is willing to attend to whatever they might need, he thinks looking clothing over is something well within their means... Besides which, her reasoning may not match up with their own, if the conversation he'd first walked into was any indication.

Turning then, he gestures to some displays]

Let's see what might be fitting... They seem to have some variety here.

[He steps toward the wooden shelves which flaunt an array of shirts, all with collars and buttons down the front, some cut from flannel, some from cotton, and others from sturdy denim. His eyes roam over the garments and his fingers stroke the fabric dubiously as if weighing its worth.]

You may well be a better judge than I of these garments, Haise, for they more closely match those in which you clad yourself. What say you in this matter?

[The seamstress, meanwhile, has scuttled to another part of the store where she aimlessly fusses with bolts of fabric, straightening them and brushing dust from their edges while softly clicking her tongue as if she means to chastise the eddying dust that floats freely through town. The thrust of her attention plainly remains on Achilles and Haise, as if she intends to insert herself in their business at the first sign of hesitation.]

[Haise can feel those watchful eyes on their backs each time the seamstress' attention drifts their way, though he pretends otherwise. Perhaps owing to what he is, he's very aware of being observed or followed, but he bends his focus to the task of helping Achilles choose from among the selection arrayed before them]

Let's see... [He eyes the shirts before pointing out a cotton one] This one is light, so it would keep you from getting too hot. And it may feel less confining. On the other hand [he continues as he gestures to a denim shirt] this material is more durable, though it will feel heavier and hotter.

[Having said this though, he hasn't given a recommendation. And sensing the beginnings of approaching footsteps, Haise is quick to correct that]

Since our work will likely see weathering to any apparel regardless... I'd recommend the cotton, particularly that thicker variety in front of you there. It'll last longer than a lighter weight shirt of the same material, and still feel comfortable.

[Too much denim might feel stifling for a man accustomed to tunics, although he was also accustomed to armor which had heft of its own. Better to not get overheated, since any combat was likely to damage any of these materials if protracted]

[Achilles nods in consideration for Haise's advice and takes from the shelf one of the indicated shirts, this one red in color: he realizes not that such dyes are not so difficult to come by as they are in his homeland, and so to him the rich color bespeaks fine quality fitting for a man of his status. Unfolding the shirt, he holds it up that he may inspect it more closely.]

This seems to me a suitable garment, but how am I to know if it shall fit ere I give my gold?

[The notion of buying clothing made by a stranger strikes him as curious indeed, for among his people, clothing is woven in the house at the looms of the household's women and servants. Thus there is no need to worry whether garments shall fit or not when each one is woven already to the specifications of the one who shall wear it. So too are sizes far more flexible when clothing entails large rectangles of fabric that drape the body and gather at the waist with a belt.]

[Haise has it in mind that Achilles appreciates vivid colors. Knowing a little of his culture, at least what has come from reading whatever he gets his hands on as he's wont to do, he thinks he can imagine some reasons. It isn't something he calls to question, instead speculating on the size and whether it might fit, since Qorral measures might differ.

It seems they're considering the same subject though, and Haise glances around. Soon enough he spots the doors to the changing stalls and points them out for his associate]

You can try clothing on over there, I believe.

[First they really ought to get Achilles some pants to go with that shirt though. He can almost feel the seamstress wanting to comment to this effect, but thus far, she continues to fuss about the store while not-so-covertly monitoring their shopping progress]

Very well - wait here just one moment.

[The changing stalls wait along the back wall of the shop, beside an open door that leads into a dim back room. Each stall is outfitted with a curtain that one may pull shut to create a sense of privacy. There Achilles strides with shirt in hand, bothered not in the least that he has only half of a proper outfit. He slips behind the curtain and sets to unpinning the tunic from his shoulders, allowing the fabric to hang from his waist where the garment is girded. He then wrestles his arms into the sleeves and takes a moment to fumble with the buttons, the fastenings unfamiliar to his fingers.

When Achilles emerges, he makes a curious fashion statement clad in shirt and tunic both. The shirt seems to fit his broad chest and muscular arms well, with enough give so as not to restrain his movement, but he frowns as he fusses with the cuffs, for they bind his wrists which usually are free.]

I like not how the cloth gathers here at my wrists. Must it be so tight?

[It's a curious sight to behold, and for an instant, Haise can do nothing but stare. Catching himself however, he's quick to recall that he hadn't brought to Achilles' attention the necessity of pants. At least it's just the two of them and the seamstress, so that neglect won't lead to any excess of embarrassment. Nevertheless, that's one fashion statement Haise suspects no one else has made.

He steps nearer to his associate, holding up his own arm to indicate the cuff of his sleeve]

You can unbutton them here, which should resolve that problem.

[With the ease of old practice, Haise unbuttons his cuff in demonstration. In contrast to Achilles, it's not something he would find comfortable, as then the ends of his sleeves become obtrusive to him, but for a man unaccustomed to such attire it may be more favorable]

We should also look at pants for you, since those are typically coupled with shirts.

[If his current look, which is Ancient Greek on the bottom and wild west up top, is cause for embarrassment, he seems to take no notice. So following Haise's example, he looses the buttons at his cuffs. The cloth still hangs in such a way that he feels hindered still by its extra length, especially since his wrists are bedecked in bracelets, and thus he sets to rolling his sleeves up to the crooks of his elbows, folding and tucking the fabric just as he would the extra length of a tunic. Satisfied at last with the garment, he returns his attention to Haise.]

That is the garment one wears upon his legs, is it not?

[Achilles appears dubious of countenance once more, accustomed as he is to the greater freedom of movement granted by draping oneself in a large rectangle of fabric. Long has he enjoyed the rush of running fast, and he is loath to give this up.]

Yes, you're right.

[It appears that Achilles is adapting his shirt to suit his needs well enough, so Haise turns his attention to the selection of pants laid out on display nearby. He selects a pair he believes would fit and holds them up for Achilles to get a better look at]

You might find the material stiffer than you're accustomed to, but it's good for desert conditions.

[Better in dealing with prickly plants and the pests that come along with them, assuming the desert environment is as it appears. If they ever need to ride those mechanical horses that would be all the more reason for pants]

[Again he judges the fabric with his fingers, and he finds that the material is coarser than the finely spun wool to which he is accustomed, but for this it seems quite durable.]

Indeed it seems that it shall hold well against this harsh landscape and all we may be tasked to do.

[Thus Achilles accepts the garment and retreats behind the curtain once more. There he unbinds the sandals from his feet. Then he ungirds his tunic and upon carefully folding the voluminous length of fabric, he sets it aside to instead pull on the pants. However, what Haise failed to impress upon him is the necessity of undergarments: he wears none for his is a culture where these are widely considered optional rather than a standard component of one's garb.

He is spared the trouble of a zipper, for the pants are fastened solely by a strip of buttons, but this poses its own problem, as the brass of the buttons is quite cold against...certain places of his person, nor is the rough fabric particularly kind in this regard. It is with a grimace pulling at his lips that he emerges, tugging at the belt loops as if to adjust the garment that it might grow more comfortable.]

[While Achilles is getting dressed, Haise waits patiently for his return. He casts a thoughtful glance in the direction of the boots this store offers, speculating just how uncomfortable his heroic associate would find such apparel. Although they'd be good protection against the elements, they might be difficult for Achilles to move in or hurt his feet, which would be counterproductive.

There might be some happy medium, he thinks, but the selection here might not be the best for that. Haise folds his arms as he considers the finer points in clothing a hero from legends, a thoughtful hum caught behind his lips.

After a while though, it seems to him that Achilles has been in the changing stall for some time. If he's never worn pants before, maybe he's having difficulties with them, or trouble adjusting...]

...Is everything alright?

[He pushes the curtain aside but lingers in the doorway of the changing stall, tugging at the belt loops still and fidgeting his hips. It is quite the comical sight to behold, in contrast to the noble and heroic reputation he wears so well.]

These are not to my liking, although to speak further on the matter I fear would be rude to the present company.

[Translation: he won't talk about the woes of his little Achilles in front of the poor seamstress.]

Rude to...?

[Haise starts, dubious, and looks toward the only other presence in the room. It takes him a few moments to connect factors between Achilles' fidgeting and his words, but in the span of these moments he thinks he's added it up. So he turns his attention back to the other man, lest the seamstress decide to approach them]

Ah.

[He moves to another display set out on a round table, sifting through some garments before he returns with a pair of boxers. Far softer material than the pants Achilles is currently fidgeting with, and as a bonus, a colorful dancing cactus print on them]

I should've suggested you put these on before the pants...

[Although he might be wrong, this does appear to be the problem]

[Upon taking the proffered garment his eyebrows lift from their furrow to instead display his delight for the soft fabric beneath his fingers.]

So intricate a pattern I have scarce seen before - it seems to me a shame that this shall be hidden underneath where none may admire it. Nevertheless I shall gladly don this garment.

[And so he does. When he emerges once more, his stance is far more natural than before as he adjusts to this unfamiliar garb.]

Indeed this is more to my liking. Thank you, Haise, for your assistance.

[Yet still his feet are bare upon the wooden floorboards, his sandals waiting in the dressing stall beside his folded clothes.]

Edited 2016-10-26 02:10 (UTC)

Sorry I didn't consider that before...I can imagine pants would be uncomfortable otherwise.

[Jeans, especially. That's a level of abrasion Haise wouldn't have wished on his associate, but at least it was a problem easily addressed. Now comes the real challenge, at least in his view, as there remains the matter of footwear.

Boots may be incredibly uncomfortable for Achilles, but better they at least discuss it than not at all]

Typically, people wear boots with clothing like this. I'm not sure whether you'll find them easy to move in, but do you want to try them out for yourself?

[His sandals could be tough to lace with jeans on, the more he considers it, so giving the boots a sporting try seems for the best]

[As if to better imagine that which Haise suggests, he glances down at his feet and contemplatively shifts his weight from one to the other. In truth he prefers to leave his feet bare, a vein of the vasty wilds of Mount Pelion that he holds within him still. Thus it is with some reluctance that he answers, his eyes lifted to his companion once more.]

I clad my feet in boots when this company was made to trek across the frozen tundra of Zeta-12, and so these are not wholly strange to me. Let us see if now too they shall be suitable.

[So speaking, he moves toward the modest shelf on which are displayed several pairs of boots in various sizes.]

[It comes as a relief to Haise that this won't be the first time Achilles has worn boots. Thinking on it now, he supposes it was silly to imagine that there hadn't been some occasion when such apparel would've been employed, especially given the conditions during their previous missions. That's something he'll have to bear in mind]

These may be structured somewhat differently, and I haven't figured out why spurs are necessary with mechanical horses, but... [He glances over the shelf, then at Achilles' feet, and back to that shelf once again] Something around this size ought to fit.

[This he says as he points out a few pairs of boots that he'd imagine are appropriately sized]

( semi-closed )

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i'm sorry......

no, no, you're grand...

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