1610/A Barrette from a Marette

A Barrette from a Marette
Date of Scene:	19 February 2015
Location:	Hydaelyn <HD>
Synopsis:	A visit from the Angel of Death... for clothes?
Cast of Characters:	708, 717

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Kuja (717) has posed:
     There is a dark shadow of Hydaelyn, passing lazily before seeming to disappear. Most folks don't even notice it, going about their business. Of course, when Kuja beams down with a trio of black mage aides, well, things are about to get a bit different. He's... annoyed, by having to trudge through these backalley streets just to reach the address he'd heard about over the radio. Some kind of person advertising their services as a tailor or seamstress? Well, there was the addage about leaving a good looking corpse...

     "Hark, you are in the presence of the Angel of Death, I have come seeking your... services, for good or ill, I require fashionable and delectable raiments befitting one such as I... you may speak now," his almost stern announcement faded then into an almost cheshire grin, seeking out the tailor themselves!

Selaine Marette (708) has posed:
In the backroom of this rather unappealing shambles that could only be classified by backhanded payments as livable, sits the tailor hunched over latest piece. Her slim shoulders barely flinch when the hubbub outside rises, nor when the irate owner and his face, white and puffy like unlevened dough pokes itself through the doorway.
"Oi, get yerself moving, lady. S'pposed to be tending the desk." Irritatably she heads out, frown twisting round into a smile as she recites her spiel.
"Hello, how may I-" Suddenly registering the sheer outlandish apparel and the man who dons them. Not to mention with a sideways glance, his entourage. "You...my services?" She almost squeaks out, polished accent inching higher.

Kuja (717) has posed:
     Yes, it's Kuja, he is there, in all his glory, as well as a few dumbfounded black mages around him, who just sort of seem to be curious about where they are. The long silver-haired man simply stands there, and takes a long, deep breath--as if he was in need of air, before finally beginning to speak again.

     "Why yes, yes I do, I have come to your... humble establishment after hearing of a certain tailor over the silly little radio bands," Kuja steps around the shop, idly fingering this and that idly, as if he was in some kind of carnival attraction. "I have heard you are the woman for truly elegant clothing, is this true?" she is approached now by the outlandish silver haired fop, his indigo eyes looking her over.

Selaine Marette (708) has posed:
A look round, the man and his stout cudgel of backup morale having long since scuttled away, the tailor in her cowled grey and bearing a suitably indoor pallor turns back to the customer. Arranging her finely delineated features into what is intended to be a cordial air, the complict stare between those who know their warp and weft. One of the elect.

"Yes sir...despite outward appearances. It is a fact we save the pomp for our clothing." Calmer now, in spite of his inspection and small army, tucking absentmindedly a wisp of spring coloured hair as she indicates her scant wares with a flicked wrist.
Arrayed neatly, there is a certain distinction to the outfits, in the meticulous cut and tiny, near invisible stitches that hold the garment together. Most of it in soft, subtle tones however a flash of bright scarlet or deep turquoise invades the eyeline.

Kuja (717) has posed:
     "I'll be needing something to wear... well, for in-general use outdoors, and perhaps a few things of the indoor varieties, I assume you are able to work with silk, satin, velvet, all those more delicate materials, hmmyes?" The leather and gold buckled boots of his click forward as the skirted and codpieced man is even closer now, trying to draw an index finger over her chin, if she doesn't drawback.

     "What a pretty porcelain doll of a tailor I've found," he leans back with a big grin, a pair of prominent eyeteeth visible in his glee. "I rather like your stitchwork, the seams they are almost imperceptible!"

Selaine Marette (708) has posed:
Obseqious to the end of a business transaction, Selaine shifts backward in such a way that it could be misconstrued as purely accidental and not deliberate sabotage of his attempt to touch her. A flush paints her skin faintly pink.

"Thank you. Indeed, I also work on jewellery so incorporating a little gold gilding would be entirely possible. For a grander ensemble." Left to their devices the hands clasp, fingertips pressed whitely against the other.

"In fact..." Trailing off thoughtfully, her red stare directs itself down to his boots. Adroitly skirting his...skirt. "I feel a deep purple might be fitting, in satin. For your uh...waist cape?"

Kuja (717) has posed:
     "I only bother to wear the best, the most finest of fabrics, colors... yes phoenician purple is a favorite of mine, how did you notice?" Kuja grinned. "I'm called Kuja, by the way, miss...? I fear I did not catch your name from the handbill which directed me to your... shop," the queer stranger admits, not seeming too bother she'd stymied his touchy feeliness.

     "Waist cape? you could just call it a skirt m'dear, I'm sure to hear enough of that in time to come, but yes..." he steps around her, a bit like a peacock, rubbing a hand over his smooth and marless chin. "You work out of your establishment here then, I take it? I may need to have you on hand at odd times aboard my airship, is this acceptable?"

Selaine Marette (708) has posed:
"Marette." Adding after significant pause. "Selaine Marette." Thus named, Selaine considers his request quietly, gaze flicking between him and his mages. "Yes. It would be acceptable." A faint marvelling for his riches, to own such a technological wonder echoes in her tone, though she queries him not on the fine details. Best not look a gift horse in the mouth.

Kuja (717) has posed:
     "A pleasure to meet you, miss, I do hope we're able to establish a healthy and prosperous working arrangement," Kuja claps his hands together, as if pleased with how smoothly this went. "Well then, I suppose I can check back next week then, or maybe ring you on whatever long range communication device they use around here... what is it, link pearls, or crystal balls?" he shrugs idly. One hand rising to smooth back his feathery silver hair.

     "I shall leave some sketched designs here," he sets down a rolled sheet of paper. "Of course, I will be waiting to see you produce before anymore than this is given in advance," he presents her with a small bag of gil.

Selaine Marette (708) has posed:
"Link pearls." Not one for effusive chatter when it comes to deals it seems, Selaine picks up the rolled paper, gently unfurling it out to appraise the designs. Mentally already jotting up what she might require, faint yet sincere smile quirking the mouth. Another wisp of hair escapes, left to hang over her left eye, absorbed as she is in the study.

A minute later, she deftly rolls it back up, right hand sliding open a drawer underneath the desk to obtain a ribbon, used to secure it. "Also the radio the multiversal people use is possible-I have my own frequency set up." She remarks, openly pleased. Making two.

Kuja (717) has posed:
     "Oh good, I look forward to your progress, my delicate porcelain doll," It's ambiguous (as Kuja is wont to be) if he means this in an endearing or threatening way, with Kuja it might just be both. He turns and struts back towards the door, and if Selaine pay sattention she just might see the back of the... half-cape, or buttskirt, whichever you want to call it idly being poked from the inside by something, as if he had a... tail. Odd.

     "I shall call again in a fortnight then, Miss Marette, or anytime really if I get bored, ta!" he gives her a final farewell before stepping out of the shop and is gone.