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Tanya Degurechaff     Early evening in Paris with the sun dipping low over the city, backlighting the skyline in the west amidst the clouds and smog. The garrison has taken over one of Paris' many parks as a vehicle depot, with a nearby building acting as a warehouse due to its size and, more importantly, the lack of structural damage from the earlier conflict. A covered transport truck idles at the curb.

    Major Tanya von Degurechaff waits at the top of the steps, framed by the door into the building, in full uniform and Silver Wings badge. Idly, she adjusts her peaked cap, then folds her hands behind her back and takes in a deep breath. Mostly fresh air, tainted with the smell of burned diesel.

    The loading doors a few yards away are hauled open, and a soldier guides a tank out into the street. Once clear, he shouts an all-clear and the vehicle turns, rumbling off into the park itself.

    Ah, military effeciency, even during maintenence. But where has that bull gotten off to?
Asterios Where HAS that bull gotten off to?

Perhaps it comes as no surprise, given where they are. Paris' parks are some of the most beautiful in the world, after all. Even the addition of that notoriously deutche utilitarianism hasn't entirely wiped clean that fact. Asterios emerges from a bramble of bushes and trees right next to the motor pool. He has spent much of his time... Wandering, it seems. Meandering through Paris' greenspaces and thoroughfares. Where he hasn't been working, he's been walking, identifying the brightest, sunniest, flowery-est groves in the city for mid-afternoon naps.

And so it was today. He might have snoozed through twilight, but that just means he has plenty of energy for the evening. "Aa, Master!" Asterios calls, bounding up over the gate (he's just too large to properly fit under or through the gate). He seems... Characteristically cheerful. There is a great, big, lazy cat dangling asleep in his arms. He smells faintly of good, fresh earth, early-evening dew and wildflowers. "You. Called?"
Tanya Degurechaff     Admittedly, the fall of the Republic was relatively without violence. So aside from the motor pool here used by the occupying Imperial force, and a few buildings scattered throughout the city damaged by geurilla fighting and the now-defunct Resistance, the bulk of Paris has been largely undamaged. Which means plenty of parks and boardwalks along the river to inspect!

    Even the tankers have been relatively careful about the park they're using as a motor pool, but of course damage is an eventuality given the equipment involved.

    As Asterios comes bounding out of the park, Tanya squares her shoulders and leans back, just enough to keep him in her line of sight under the brim of her cap. The dozing shape in his arms is noted, and she dips her head slightly, eyes disappearing behind that polished brim, "Ah. You made a friend. But you'll have to put the cat down for what I had in mind." Her eyes wander to the cargo truck, and the brunette waiting outside it starts, then turns and hauls open the side door, "Ah.. It used a lot of material! Trudy couldn't fit it into regular boxes, but they should be folded properly..!" With a grunt, Serebryakov pulls out a sizable cardboard box and holds it up for the Minotaur's inspection.

    "A gift," Tanya explains, "Something new for you to wear."
Asterios All the better! Paris is a beautiful city, after all. For all the massive reconstruction that the various monarchs forced upon its denizens over the years, it's hard to argue that the Champs Elysees isn't a gorgeous boulevard to stroll, day or night.

The snoozing cat yawns sleepily as Tanya glances its way. It's mighty large for a cat. Why, it might just be some kind of... boss-cat. A boss of all cats in the park. Those are things, aren't they?

Right??

"Aa?" the Minotaur blinks slowly, then turns himself around to look at the truck and its attendant brunette. It doesn't take long for him to recognize her. "Ah! Sere! Mmn, that... is big." He hops down off the steps and... gently plops Boss Cat right in Serebryakov's arms. he takes the package first, of course. It's heavy, the cat is (relatively) less so. "New... clothes?"

Asterios looks up to his master with big, glittering eyes. "Aa. Will go try on. Right away! Will be strange, maybe. Mmn. Might be hard. With horns. But will try!"

And so he does! The folks in the makeshift warehouse won't mind much if he takes a storage closet to change in, will they?
Tanya Degurechaff     When recognized, Serebryakov closes her eyes with a smile, "Yes, good evening!" She struggles with the box in both hands, given its size. And Asterios just takes it one-handed. There's a brief look of bewilderment on the Russy woman's face when he takes it so effortlessly, which is replaced with immediate surprise when her still-look-like-they're-holding-something arms are occupied with an obscenely sized housecat. Serebryakov wobbles in place, before teetering back and coming to rest against the truck behind her.

    "Yes," Tanya asserts, "If nothing else, I'd like you to have more options for things to wear." Tilting her head up, she smiles, "Ideally, it'll help you fit in more with the soldiers here, and with me. Go ahead and try it on. I think the tailoring should be a good fit."

    The workers inside the workshop had apparently already been told this was going to happen, and Asterios is directed to a storeroom for spare vehicle parts that's large enough for him to get into. As expected, the box contains a Minotaur-sized version of Tanya and Serebryakov's uniforms, olive drab with red piping. The shoulderboards are rather bare, denoting a Cadet, and there is no hat. There is, however, a round red gem similar to the one Tanya wears-- but unlike Tanya's, this one is merely decorative, not a Computation Jewel.

    Outside, Serebryakov has relocated the enormous cat to the hood of her truck. With the engine off, the metal is simply warm, which should suit most cats just fine. Tanya simply waits patiently, eyes turned to the sky as the colors on the clouds start to change.
Asterios     Serebryakov is so often bewildered, it's probably almost second nature to her by now. But is it so strange for someone so huge to be able to carry around a box of that size? It's cardboard! Filled with fabric! That's not so bad. Heavier than even an egregiously large kitty, perhaps, but still nothing a minotaur worth his weight in salt can't take care of!

"Aa! Will be. Nice. Will not look as... Strange." Not that 'being a colossal bull-man' isn't strange in and of itself, but now the platoon will probably look just a little less nervous the next time they have to report in for inspection with the brass. Sure, he might be a colossal bull-man, but at least he'll be a colossal bull-man in /uniform./

Of course, getting the thing on takes... a little bit of doing. It's fortunate that the undershirt is something approximately similar to a tank top, or else getting his mane, let alone his horns through the neck would have been an exercise in futility. At least he knows how pants work, and how to do buttons. They're sized appropriately for his fingers, even. It takes just a little while for Asterios (as someone entirely unversed in this kind of thing) to don everything that he needs, but he manages it, somehow!

"Aa, Master!" The Minotaur almost bounds out of the building, looking every bit like that cadet who just got written a letter saying that his hometown sweetheart accepted his marriage proposal and that the ceremony is set for just after the next campaign and who resolved that he's definitely making it through this one alive. At least he looks like a cadet. The Minotaur cleans up nice, it seems-- even if trying to tame that mane would be... criminal. "Does it... Look good?" The gem peeking out just under that snowy fluff gleams in the late, twilight gloam.
Tanya Degurechaff     The mystery of how Tanya acquired such accurate measurements for a tailored uniform will never be addressed. But as the massive bull man emerges in his new outfit, Tanya turns to take in the spectacle. A few yards away, Serebryakov glances up from examining the monolithic cat, eyes getting as wide as saucers. The larger of the two women plants her hands on the hood of the truck and leans up to get a better look, "--Wow! Is that really Asterios? What a transformation, Major..!"

    Tanya nods once, eyes closed, "It's true. 'Clothes make the man', as the saying goes." Eyes opening, she grins, "It's a good look for you. Sharp. Professional. You're a true soldier of the Empire, now." She just won't say anything about all that hair.

    In fact she'd requested the collar slightly larger just to make room for all of it and that chest ruff thing he's got going on.

    "Aside from how you look in it," Tanya steps down, starting a slow walking circle around Asterios, "How does it feel? Is it a good fit? Comfortable? I have a good eye for this kind of thing, but there's always the chance that I mis-estimated, especially given your size."
Asterios     The Astronomically Large Feline (ALF) lazily lifts an eyelid to examine Serebryakov right back. Its eyes are big and bright and gold and look like they would belong to some kind of terrifying witch-cat. Just in time to miss Halloween. It waves its paws at the woman looming over it. 'Pet me, petty human,' the thing seems to say, 'for I am your irresistably fluffy master.'

Speaking of irresistably fluffy and also masters.

"Aa!" Asterios grins and lifts his arms into the air. The seams all seem to have been fit and reinforced in the areas that would see the most wear. It's not just a matter of taking into account the Minotaur's incredible strength, the simple, utilitarian fact is that doing the job right the first time means saving a lot of money, material and labor in the long run. Making absolutely sure that none of those important seams get in the way when he's on the move don't just save a trip to the tailor, they also save a whole lot of resources.

Important, in today's frightful era.

Asterios turns and twists, testing the fabric this way and that. It seems to accomodate him just fine, without anything bursting and leading to a terrible and awkward accident. Of course, since he walks around shirtless most of the time /anyway/, it would only be a little bit awkward, but having a button go flying might put out somebody's eye. "Fits... well! Ahahahaha! Never had... Nice clothes... before!"

It's then that Tanya might realize the trouble with having such a big, huggable servant... As Asterios lifts her up in a big, amazing hug. Also Serebryakov. There is no escape. At least he seems to know not to squeeze /ultra/ tight. "Thank you! Master and Sere are. The best!"
Tanya Degurechaff     Serebryakov is, unfortunately, too interested in Asterios to obey the command of her silent feline overlord. To the possible dismay of said overlord. But such slights are best forgiven, at least the first time through. She rounds the truck to get a better look, hands clasped together, "It looks even better on you than I thought it would!" She turns slightly, grabbing on to a passing soldier who'd stopped to see as well, "Sergeant, please go get the garrison photographer!"

    "Ah? Oh, right, of course, Second Lieutenant." He snaps a quick salute and trots off across the base without pause.

    Tanya folds her arms behind her back, observing the stretches and flexes Asterios puts the outfit through. She permits herself a bit of pride, a smug look crossing her face, "Ah, good. I informed her of your great strength and very active lifestyle, so it seems she was able to account for that. This should be a very rugged uniform that suits you perfectly." Head tilting, she adds, "And there are spares, for when this one is dirty or needs repairs."

    Scooping the two Mages up has two opposite, but immediate responses.

    Serebryakov lets out a surprised noise, hands shooting up almost like a damsel scooped up by King Kong. The hug is a surprise, but one she welcomes with a laugh and returns, "Aw, thank you! Anything to help you feel welcome!" ... "Major, his hair is so soft..!"

    Tanya's response is more one of shock and surprise, eyes going wide when picked up. She doesn't speak, merely letting out a grunting noise when squeezed by the Minotaur's beefy arms, only her eyes visible amidst the downy mane and creased cloth. If she wasn't so well known by these two as a compassionate, empathetic leader and master, why, one might get the impression that Tanya's response is rather indignant, or even offended.
Asterios Curses. Foiled again. The would-be kitty king flicks its tail and flops over onto its side. It curls up, tucking its nose into its own incredible fluff. You know not what you forsake, human. But that's fine. Big cats have big hearts. There is plenty of room for mercy and forgiveness, at least... this time.

MEANWHILE.

Asterios is informed that he has not one, not two, but SEVERAL new sets of clothes. Nobody has been this excited to be wearing something new since... Well, there are certain stereotypes. Asterios is approximately as happy as one of those blissed out shop-happy teenaged girls you see on TV. Except large, tremendously manly, and also not squealing like a girl a tenth of his size.

For this, Tanya should be thankful.

"You are. Both. Best!" Asterios repeats as his hugging abates. He doesn't seem to pick up on the fact that his master takes to hugs like an oversized cat might take to a sudden bath. He does, however, pick up on the fact that there is apparently a picture on the way, or at least he possesses a sense of when hugs go on too long.

Serebryakov will have plenty of time to play with his hair, though.

Because both she and the Major are going up on Asterios' tremendous shoulders.

"Ahahahaha, have never been... Citizen. Before. Is... Good feeling. Thank you. Very much."
Tanya Degurechaff     "--the huge man that the White Silver tamed," voices approaching, "He's wearing an Imperial uniform now. The Second Lieutenant from the 203rd Air Mage Battalion wants pictures." It's the sergeant from before, obviously excited, leading a second man in uniform toting a bulky early-century camera under one arm.

    "I say, that sounds like an excellent shot," the photographer admits, "The papers back in Berun have been loving this guy, they'll go crazy over this!"

    Fortunately by the time they arrive, the more embarassing interaction has already abated. Relocated to Asterios' shoulder, Tanya smooths the front of her uniform with both hands, then adjusts her cap. A fastidious display of perfectionism in appearance. At least she doesn't seem to have this expectation for Asterios, understanding where he came from. Baby steps. After straightening her uniform, the Major rubs her face with both hands, and only then does she loop her left arm around the Minotaur's horn for stability.

    "Yes," there's tension in her voice, but it fades almost immediately as she continues talking, "A place to belong. A place to protect. That's what it means to be a soldier for the Empire. Defend the Fatherland from its enemies, and the Fatherland in turn provides everything you could ever need." Eyes narrowing, she grins down at Asterios, "I knew from the start that you'd do well here."

    Serebryakov mirrors Tanya's posture, an arm around Asterios' other horn, but this is mostly just an excuse to pet his mane with a pleased, eyes-closed look on her face. See what you missed out on, cat?

    When the Photographer arrives, Visha lets out an 'oh!' sort of noise and straightens her uniform quickly.

    "This man is going to take a picture of us," Tanya explains, "Just hold still for a moment. Smile when he asks you to. And then when the film develops, we'll have this moment forever."

    The photographer, to his credit, is already setting his camera on its tripod while the Sergeant rubs his chin thoughtfully, "He's gonna make all the men back in Berun want to exercise more, that's for sure."
Asterios You know what they didn't have down in the Labyrinth?

Photographs.

Heck, they barely had light. How would anyone even think to use some kind of weird silver compound to commemorate an event for all eternity?*

Asterios seems PERFECTLY FINE with the petting he is receiving from one of the two women on his shoulders. There are probably a lot of guys out there who would kill to have one girl up on their shoulders, but two? TWO!? "Mmn. Home? Yes, will protect. I have... strength to protect weaker ones," he nods in reply. Weaker ones? Is that why the guys back in Berun will be hitting the gym? Maybe not the only reason, but still! "Exercise is good! Ahahahaha!" Clearly this is the beginning of an incredible body-building craze. It will soon sweep the empire. The hills will glisten with well-oiled muscle men flexing their chiseled bods. The valleys will fill with fainting maidens scandalized by the sight.* It'll be total anarchy.

Total... muscle... anarchy.

"Aa! But not just protect. Will... Help. Other ways too," Asterios says as he is given a brief rundown on how photography works, "Will do... many things. I think." So all he has to do is hold still and smile? That's not hard! He'll do whatever he needs to. After all, this place is his home, right??

The cat just yawns and snuggles its warm, metal bed, ignorant of the terrible musclepocalypse about to unfold.*

(*Not really)
Tanya Degurechaff     Serebryakov smiles, "Yes! We'll work together to make our country a beautiful place." She turns, lifting her hand to salute to the cameraman.

    "Your enthusiasm is, as ever, appreciated," Tanya comments. It's unclear if her comment is directed towards Visha or Asterios. It may be intended for both Servant and Subordinate. Idly, she tugs her glove off, tucking it into her coat pocket. She lifts her right hand as well, to salute, while holding on to the Minotaur's horn in such a way that the design emblazoned on the back of her left hand, her Command Seal, is presented to the camera as well.

    "Excellent!" The photographer has set up his equipment, and has already slanted it up enough to catch the two ladies and Asterios from the chest up. There's a *FOOF* and a flash of light as that picture is taken-- Saluting officers and a 'neutral' colossus. And then he raises his hands, "Major, Second Lieutenant, I'd like a second picture with a more masculine feel. Lower your salutes please." And then to Asterios, he raises his arms in a typical two-armed flex, biceps parallel to the ground, "Big guy, could you do one of these for the camera? And give us a smile!"
Asterios There is a *FOOF* of light. Asterios blinks into the flurry of dots occupying most of his field of vision. Nobody said there'd be a flash! But it's okay. It's alright! Because master is here, and disappointing her after all she's done for him is just not okay! Asterios is, if nothing else, an extremely grateful creature.

If... Also easily influenced.

But that's okay. Serebryakov and Master will never take advantage of that, right?!

"Aa! Yes," Asterios nods as he does as he's asked. Two arms lift in a great, broad-shouldered flex. The fabric of his uniform, as well-designed as it might be, can't completely hide the fact that the minotaur is built hard enough to bench press cars. Or tanks. The buttons strain to keep control of the RAGING PECTORALS hidden beneath. Fabric twists and ripples in ways that could only further fan the flames of the now-inevitabel MUSCLE REVOLUTION.

And the smile...

Uh.

Well.

Asterios is... clearly not used to smiling for the camera.

THEY CAN PROBABLY EDIT THAT IN PHOTOSHOP RIGHT
Tanya Degurechaff     "Ah, great! Great!" The photographer gets back behind his camera, then pauses. After a long moment, he leans back out from around the device, "...Uh. Maybe don't smile." He can deal with it, but the readers at home probably can't. Getting back behind the camera, he gestures, "Just be you. Like you were a moment ago!"

    Serebryakov balances herself by placing both hands down her sides, kicking her feet with a big smile while balanced on Asterios' bicep.

    Tanya shifts out from his shoulder, too, sitting on his bicep with her legs crossed at the ankles. She doesn't mug for the camera, though. With no salute, she just folds her hands one over the other, Command Seal still visible, and her face mostly neutral. Just this side of neutral, leaning towards pleased or satisfied.

    And the photographer just won't take the picture until the minotaur's face is no longer going to unsettle anyone who looks at it. *FOOF*

    This is 1924, after all. The ability to 'fix it in post' is a bit limited.