The Perfect Fit [Charlie]

[Avamande]

A • S T R A N G E • M A N

Ash 4, 121 Age of Steel

Charlie was not a renowned tailor. Nor was he a particularly busy, exceptional, or cheap one. What he was however was interesting, the man seemingly rarely busy yet also never appearing to fall into precarity. It was not economics nor vanity nor word of mouth that brought Avamande to his humble shop, but instead raw curiosity. One of their few emotions that that Negation had not dampened, they could not help but indulge it when from time to time it reared its head. They had seen the man's business place many times upon their usual ambles about the city, one of their typical paths taking them by its facade.

He was almost never there, and when he was he was almost never actually working. It was not a critical mystery, no secret of creation was hidden behind the layabout tailor, but it was one that they wanted to solve nonetheless. Perhaps it was the simple pettiness of it that motivated them, a reprieve from answering the questions of reality to instead do something far more grounded. Figure out what in the world was going on with this man. But it would not do to try and force the issue, that much Avamande was certain of, no matter how curious they were. At the first opportunity however though, they would strike.

Other plans fueled by that incessant need to learn more gave them the perfect chance early in Ash. The man claimed to be a tailor after all, and Avamande required a new outfit if they intended to be properly attired for their own designs. Certainly, they could have gone to almost any other shop in the city and found a tailor more attentive to the needs of their customers. But that would be a far less interesting sort of person than the one who was, at last, actually visible from the street outside of their workplace. With their typical brusqueness, the Hytori swiftly entered and approached the counter, not daring to waste a second. One never knew when Charlie would vanish again after all, and it had taken days for their schedules to align in the first place, the mage having repeatedly walked past the empty building while he was off doing gods knew what.

But none of that mattered now. "I require a tailor. I understand that you are one. Do you create, or merely alter? I desire something demure but severe. In black, preferably," they said in clipped, efficient speech, barely wasting a breath.

[Charlie]

Charlie looked up from the counter when he heard the energetic little bell ring and the door swing open. It was one of the rare days that Charlie had not found a reason to leave work early or open at all. He did begin each day with the best of intentions, but things always managed to get in the way. How he so often managed to find worthy distractions between the time he woke and the time he walked downstairs was one of the many mysteries of Ransera.

He opened his mouth to greet his latest client as they entered, only for Avamande to get to things first. As such, Charlie's mouth hung open slightly while he puzzled out just what had the Hytori so wound up. Charlie locked eyes with them casually, and channeled just enough aether that he could perceive Avamande's symphony. What Charlie found was only more puzzling. Most emotions came through as dull smudges, and their instruments were heard as though through a wall six inches thick. Charlie could pick out one clearly above the rest, 'Curiosity', so it was not as though a lid was smothering the entire display. The young Mesmer had never experienced anything like it before. Of course there were always stronger instruments and dimmer ones, but never had it felt so... enforced.

Charlie stopped channeling after a few moments, the symphony fading away quickly once he had, as did the almost unnoticeable glow in Charlie's eyes. Then, only when he was sure that Avamande was done speaking, Charlie responded. His cheerfulness had not diminished in the slightest by their odd manner of speech. "Oh, I can do both! We even have some general fit clothes in the back that can be tailored to fit, quick as you like. The Steady Hand is your one stop shop, make no mistake!" He said, rising from his chair and stepping out from around the counter. "Demure and severe, you said?" Charlie confirmed, trying to reconcile the two in his mind and coming away successful. "I've got some ideas already. Do you mind if I ask a few more questions?"Now it was Charlie's turn to not wait for a response. "What's this outfit for? Work, manual labor, a night on the town? Similar style to what you're wearing now in any case, I'd imagine?"

Striding over to the fitting station, a small platform raised a step above the floor and flanked on three sides by full length mirrors. Charlie gestured to it grandly. "Please, step right up!" Charlie told Ava as he reached over to grab his measuring tape. "I'll take your measurements, present a few designs, and we'll be all set." Though Charlie's attention was now split between getting the Hytori fitted and examining that symphony further. Avamande was not the only one left curious now.

"Ope, pardon my manners, I nearly forgot to ask your name! Mine's Charlie, by the way."

[Avamande]

Charlie's reaction was not a surprise to Avamande, at least in the sense that it was unexpected. They had seen plenty of people react similarly to them, though they did not know why it was so prevalent. Certainly, they skipped much of the expected social niceties, but shouldn't one forced to interact with others as part of a day's labor be relieved at having any mandatory conversation be kept as short as possible? It was puzzling behavior, but one that they had come to accept from the world around them.

"I am pleased to hear that you can fulfill my request," they told Charlie, and indeed their symphony showed just the minutest hint of.... it was not quite happiness. More of a distant sense of satisfaction, but that seemed to be the best that they could muster. "I will very shortly be attempting to apprentice myself to a most accomplished mage. It is important that I appear to both possess a certain baseline competence, as well as a humility fit for one who will learn instead of one who thinks themselves already a master in their own right. And yes, similar in style. Clean, kept to a minimum of ostentation. You seem like you understand what I desire."

For them, that was exceptionally high praise, an acknowledgement of the tailor's ability as well as a hope that they could translate the thought into pattern. "I am not against having an existing piece altered and tailored, but I was uncertain if you had such clothing among your stock. If you do, then so much the better," they explained as they stepped up to be measured, doing so with surprisingly fluid steps, as if the stiffness of their speech and mind was to make up for the looseness of their body and limbs.

"I had assumed as much, yes. I am Avamande Val'Istar."

[Charlie]

Charlie kept track of the desires in his mind, though quickly he scribbled a few notes just to keep it all straight in the event a new garment was needed. Charlie could see the outfit coming together just looking at them. "Will you be needing a coat as well, or a cloak perhaps? Not a cape, though. That would be too far, I think." Charlie said, pointedly ignoring the half length black cape that he himself was wearing now.

A mage, that explained it somewhat, though still not completely. Magic was still a rarity in Kalzasi, and Charlie himself had influenced the minds of only a few mages. No symphony yet compared to Avamande's. "Apprenticing where, with one of the guilds?" the tailor asked, now taking the fellow mage's measurements dutifully. Charlie first measured their waist, then their shoulders and arms. Stooping down just a tad, Charlie measured their legs, and after each measurement he jotted it down on a notepad pinned to the wall. "What's your specialty then? Magic wise, I mean."

Once it came time to measure their neck though, Charlie could no longer abstain from his curiosity. He had thought on it all the while, and needed to know what was going on in that Hytori's mind. Even while working, Charlie managed to find new ways to do anything other than his job.

He stood up straight and drew in aether. He breathed it first into but a single note. The cheerful little tone represented the most basic feeling of all, happiness. He added to it, shaping it into a beautiful, smooth melody in the span of only a few seconds. It hung in Charlie's mind now, the form struggling to stay as one without a symphony to join. Such was the trouble with Charlie's particular quirk, and was why he relied almost entirely on everyday uses of magic to train his skill.

Charlie caught Avamande's eyes through the mirror, and the symphony again surrounded him. Instead of merely viewing it, Charlie introduced the composed melody into their mind, and then simply let it be. It was a beautiful little emotion, not too powerful, nor just a fleeting little trifle. Charlie had meant it to be a mere comforting warmth, but had otherwise done little to mask its introduction into Avamande's mind. Compared to the other present emotions it was a towering presence, but Charlie was far from worried. Everyone felt happy at times, and he had not even gone so far as to make them feel joy. Charlie just wanted to see if it too was left blunted like the other emotions swirling there, what was the worst that could happen?

Then Charlie broke eye contact, and a more distinct halo ring lingered around his pupils for a few perilous moments before sizzling away. As though he had done nothing, Charlie then stepped up and began to take Avamande's last measurement. "They'll be lucky to have you, in any case."

[Avamande]

"A cloak, yes, that would be excellent," they said in the same flat voice that they seemed to say everything in, but Charlie's view of their symphony showed that there was something adjacent to pleased that reacted to the suggestion. "My particular calling precludes the strictures of the Circle, my schedule is far too irregular. I am foremost a Scrivener, and it is in that field I am attempting to find a master. I will seek employment at Ale'Ephirum, if you must know."

Avamande was not particular pleased nor displeased at the notion of talking about themselves. But they also saw no reason to keep such mundane details secret from anyone, and so answered the question posed to them as thoroughly as possible. The fact that this was more detail than must would give to a stranger never occurred to them.

The Hytori dutifully moved as required of them for the measurements, the mage an ideal customer who did not resist or fidget or move out of place. Things were proceeding exactly as expected for a visit to a tailor shop, and Avamande was almost disappointed that Charlie seemed to be only a particularly eccentric man. And then they felt something, something that they had not felt in over a decade.

Charlie's good natured attempt at filling his customer with a small measure of happiness was noticed immediately, the tall mage looking him dispassionately in the eye as he processed the relatively overwhelming emotion. They were well within their rights to be outraged, offended, violated, but instead they were if anything pleased, the natural emotion compounding upon the artificial to the point that they actually cracked a smile.

"That was very unexpected of you, Charles," Avamande said in a soft voice as they rose their hand, lifting it in front of their face. Swiftly crafting a simple two dimensional disk with their hand, they breathed the magic of Negation into the shield, attuning it to the foreign emotion that Charlie had inserted into their symphony. The smile vanished as soon as it appeared. "Why did you attempt that?"

[Charlie]

Charlie had not been expecting to be caught so soon, his eyes widening like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The surprise only lasted for a moment, until Charlie was sure that he had not made Avamande truly upset. People got so worked up over having their emotions tampered with, Charlie could never understand it. And so he was glad to have found a kindred spirit in Avamande, who seemed hardly pressed at all about the entire display.

There was an odd feeling when the Hytori used Negation on the emotion, a subtle twang in Charlie's mind like a broken guitar string that served to notify him of the severed connection. When he spotted the disk, Charlie understood. "Ooooooh, you're one of them Bastions too? Now it all makes sense." Charlie said, not exactly ignoring their question as much as he was simply fascinated by his own revelation.

There were a dozen slang terms for each school of magic. Negation mages were called everything from Bulwarks to Blockers to Bastions, though many older mages believed that referring to them by any other title did not confer the same level of respect that they deserved. Mesmers went by many names, though most erred too far on the edge of insidious for Charlie's liking. There was nothing nefarious about what he did, Avamande had just proven it. He liked them.

"Your symphony looked... off. I wanted to make sure it wasn't some old caplata's curse." Charlie shrugged. "Plus, I hit everyone's emotions. Just a little work here and there, like I did for you." Now caught, Charlie saw no reason to lie. "You've got to admit, it's got it's own appeal, eh?" Charlie then stepped away, taking the measurements with him and re-hanging his tape measure on a hook. "Won't happen again, though, now that I know what's goin' on upstairs."

Stepping over, Charlie opened the door to the back room, and there were waiting orders hanging from racks in the ample workspace. He left the door open as he retrieved what he believed would be a suitable outfit. he had not gotten it prior to now as he had still been mulling over if he thought it would look proper on them.

Charlie came back with a white button down shirt with a stiff collar and starched front. Then Charlie laid a black waistcoat overtop of it with matching wool trousers folded beside it. To complete the look was a black Inverness cloak, knee length and weather resistant, and it also had a slit on either side to allow for the arms to slip through when needed. The materials themselves of average make, with the shirt having been mass produced and the trousers and waistcoat sewn large enough that they could be hemmed down to fit any customer.

Charlie gestured to the clothes. "I think this might be it. I picked the cloak without lapels so it looks a bit more casual." He told them, seeming quite proud of himself. He was still just the slightest bit apprehensive to hear their reaction. As eccentric and work avoidant as Charlie could be, he did want to make customers happy when he did serve them.

[Avamande]

Avamande knew that they were supposed to be upset at such a brazen action on Charlie's part, such a bold use of magic without consent was typically followed by denunciations and remonstrations against the mage in question if caught. A firm talk, at very best, with far worse waiting the luckless at the other end of the scale. And yet...

They did not care. Perhaps it was because their emotions were never truly their own to begin with, stolen from them in their childhood, muted and locked away so deep that they were more like a faded memory of a feeling rather than the feeling itself. Or perhaps they just happened to like Charlie and did not care to assail him. Or perhaps being happy was a mild enough alteration to not mind overly much. In any case, that did not mean that they were going to tolerate it, maintaining their shield until they were certain Charlie would not attempt it again.

"Correct," Avamande said simply. "It is a curse of sorts, I suppose. The rune sunk itself deep, but I have become accustomed to it." A ghost of a smile crossed their face as they continued to regard Charlie, the lightest hint of amusement in their voice as they added, "I am certain that a happy customer is easier to deal with as well."

The mage remained as still as a statue as Charlie searched the back room for his wares, staring directly at the open doorway without much care for decorum. It was obvious by now that the proprietor was not exactly concerned with the niceties of that others were, and they lapsed out of their meticulous routine with something like relief. If anyone with such a stiff and unmoving countenance could truly be said to be relieved.

A harsh eye scanned the clothes laid out before them, Avamande reaching out to feel the fabric with their own hands. "Commendable. Exceptional, even, considering such were already in stock. These will do nicely, yes."

[Charlie]

Charlie listened intently. It was always interesting to hear how others had reacted to their runes. Charlie's initiation had been an easy one, all things considered. The price he had paid for it was powers that did not seem to work properly, but he would accept that if the alternative was having his emotions pressed down by weights. "Oh sure, you've gotten accustomed to it, but do you actually like it?" Charlie asked genuinely. "Because I've been thinking of opening a parlor for folks like you." Charlie paused, and then seemed to realize how odd of a statement that was without further context. "People who are wound up in their emotions, I mean. A couple of skilled Mesmers could soothe those emotions away and rile the right ones up. Leave people feeling refreshed, like they'd just gone on vacation." Charlie looked expectantly to Avamande, his new friend. "Come on, that's gold, right?"

When his choice of attire was praised, Charlie lit up with a dazzling smile. He swelled with pride, and held himself just a bit taller than before. "I'm glad you like it! Do you need the clothes soon?" the tailor asked, and looked behind him to his backlog of work. It was not a tremendous pile, and most were minor alterations. He could certainly put this order above the rest in his queue. For a friend.

The front of the shirt had a stiffness to it where it had been starched, and the fabric itself was of some quality. The same could be said of the waistcoat, and it was made of a more dense wool weave to provide a bit of extra warmth for the cooler weather ahead.

"Because if you do, and you have time. I can get to work altering the clothes right away. There's a spare chair back there, if you'd like to watch." Charlie still remembered Avamande's curiosity, and saw little reason why that emotion would not extend to something as mundane as clothing alterations. "Oh, the price!" Charlie said, looking back to the clothes and doing a few calculations in his head. "Twenty-five silver will get you everything, alterations included." Not the best deal, but Charlie was not ripping Avamande off either. Now would have been the time Charlie would have used his magic on Avamande to ensure they found the price agreeable, but he had made a promise!

[Avamande]

"Like?" Avamande asked, saying the word slowly, as if it were new and he had to test it first to ensure he was saying it correctly. "I suppose I have never considered whether or not I liked it. It is a matter of course, the trade made for power mortals were never meant to have. Is that not right? I suppose a parlor such as what you suggest would be very profitable, but it seems to me as if its operation goes rather counter to the idea of the price we must pay as mages. Cheating, almost," they said, their countenance visibly wavering. Which was saying something.

Talking about clothes permitted them to return to their ordinary flat demeanor, business moving aside any doubts they held towards the nature of magic and existence. "Relatively soon, yes, and I am free at the moment. I am to attempt to make myself known to Lyra," he said this assuming that Charlie would know or care who Lyra was, "and the sooner the better." After they finished speaking, they immediately followed after the tailor to take the seat offered without saying a single word. He was right that they were curious about such mundane affairs, but that didn't mean they were going to give him the satisfaction of saying so.

As far as the price went, they stood silently for a moment considering it. They truly were not asking for much work to be done, and despite what he may boast the name of Charlie's boutique carried no especial weight or glamor. It wasn't exactly fair in their estimation, but nor was it outlandish. Commiserate with an up charge for speedy service at a larger establishment, even, which they did not forget he did not charge them for. "Twenty-five silver then, Charles, but only because I would consider you a friend."

The decision took even Avamande by surprise, though they naturally did not show it. He was interesting, but was he truly that interesting? Apparently, yes.

[Charlie]

"Cheating and resourcefulness look a lot alike, so far as magic is concerned." Charlie said, the phrase coming a bit too quickly to have been anything else other than a well used line for whenever his use of magic was opposed. "Besides, why would you want to pay a debt if you didn't have to?" The idea was foreign to Charlie. Personal responsibility, or even simply respect for the power he'd been given was impossibly less important than the powers themselves.

His smile only grew when Avamande called him one of their friends. "Glad to hear it! Y'know, so long as we're friends, just Charlie's fine. If you'd prefer, of course." Only his mother called him by his full name these days, and never when she had anything nice to say.

Charlie stepped through the doorway and into the back room, beckoning Avamande through. "Anyway, Lyra. Lovely name." Charlie said as he set the clothes on a long, smooth, flat table "Is she your prospective master, then?" It was clear that Charlie did not know this Lyra, but the fact that Avamande said her name without any explanation did tell the young mage that this Lyra was someone worth knowing.

The back room was long, and long rows of clothes hung on two racks posted on either side of the room. Those at the front were labeled for pickup with the customer's name, while those further back were the stock of general fit clothing that Charlie had pulled from earlier. All manner of styles and fabrics were on display, ranging from garishly vibrant layered ensembles to more muted affairs like the one Charlie had chosen for Avamande.

"What's it like anyway, Scrivening I mean?" Charlie asked as he retrieved his fabric scissors that hung from a hook. He also lit a few candles to give the room more consistent lighting. There was a window in front of his table as well as one behind to allow in natural light. Then Charlie retrieved a chair and set it beside the workbench so that his new friend would have a spot to sit. Once that was done, Charlie sat on the stool at the front of the table and smoothed out the pants. Bringing his scissors to the edge, he begun to cut away at the excess fabric. His expression became more serious then, though a smirk still tugged at one corner of his lips even while he carefully ran his blade up the seams. "What can you do with it?" Charlie then asked, his tone making clear that he meant Avamande themselves rather than Scrivening as a school of magic.