Closed [The Vitrax] Unholey Crotches (Joanna Arbor)

[Piraen Saneka]

14th of Summer, 516 AV

"Let me guess . . ." Piraen scrunched his lips to the side in mock confusion. Before him, he held yet another pair of plain trousers. These days it seemed his "office" was full of them. Though it wouldn't take much to fill Pi's "office", as it was essentially a storage closet with a desk and chair. "A hole in the crotch?" The tailor lifted the pants to reveal that they did indeed have a hole in the crotch. He feigned surprise, tossing his eyes in irritation as he did so. "How unusual."

Pi threw his right leg up onto his other knee and got to work. After turning the pants inside-out, he observed the damage that had been done: a small hole, perhaps an inch or two long, sat at the very top of the left inseam. As Pi threaded his needle, he wondered exactly what had caused such an influx in holey crotches within the Ebonstryfe. Perhaps it's a new torture technique. Or a secret code. The tailor knotted the two ends of thread together and shrugged. Whatever the cause, Pi wished it would go away. He was tired of getting up close and personal with other people's crotch areas.

"Here, tailor." An official looking man tossed an article of clothing into the established "to be repaired" pile next to the door before hustling away. Piraen grunted in reply to an empty doorway.

"Enough of that for today." The man pushed his "office" door shut. It was a few doors down from the main hall at the end of the corridor, and his door was labelled "Tailor." If anyone really needed him, they'd have no trouble finding him. That did not mean that he was going to give them any encouragement.

Pi plunged his needle into the fabric, two to three stitches before the hole began. He pulled it through, brought it back to the first side, pushed it through again, and then repeated the whole process. As he looped the thread around the seam, Pi leaned back in his chair and let his mind wander to the skies. He dreamt of throwing himself into the wind, of looping around clouds instead of stupid holes, and of fishing out his meal with his own talons. Soon. His internal monologue grumbled. Soon.

[Joanna Arbor]

It was a soldier in Jo's unit that recommended Piraen to her when she'd complained about needing some new articles of clothing. The past few years of training had left her with but a single outfit, and wearing the same thing every day was far too boring. She enjoyed fashion as much as the next Ravokian, though her preferences were sometimes too plain and practical beside the otherwise sumptuous garments donned by her peers. Clothes were, after all, a mark of status, and members of the Ebonstryfe were higher on the food chain than the average citizen.

It simply wouldn't do to look like the common folk, and after a few days of consideration, she decided to visit the tailor. His workspace was easy enough to find, and she'd been surprised to hear that he worked inside the Vitrax. Just a short, convenient stroll from her own quarters at that. It was a smart decision on the Ebonstryfe's part to have a clothier under their thumb. Perhaps they could provide space for a cobbler as well. The soles of her boots were getting quite worn, after all.

Though Joanna had lived and worked in the Vitrax for some time now, she'd walked by this very door almost every day without actually stopping to read the sign. She clearly needed to be more observant. Currently, the door was shut. Pale knuckles rapped sharp and clear against the hard wood, ruining what silence he was enjoying inside. After a short pause, she twisted the latch and pushed inside.

The space itself was startlingly small, with nothing but a desk and chair. The look of confusion on her face was obvious as she took it all in. Beside the door was a pile of dark clothes - pieces of uniforms, etc. It was all extremely underwhelming. Confusion turned to an expression of slight disappointment, even distaste. The man sitting at the desk was thin but nevertheless handsome, with dark eyes and hair. She couldn't make out any striking details from the doorway. Jo composed herself quickly.

"Are you the tailor, Piraen?" He could've been an assistant. He appeared quite young, after all. "I was recommended to come here. I'm wanting to have some new clothes made." Her everyday attire was simple; black and white wool and leather. The drawstring at the top of her shirt hung untied, leaving the neck open and showing off an almost inappropriate amount of cleavage and shoulder. Her pants though, kept everything covered up. Luckily for him, no unsightly holes to mend.

[Piraen Saneka]

It didn't take long before the tailor's thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on the door. Apparently, privacy was a word these people were unfamiliar with. Before he could call the visitor in, the door swung open. Large brown eyes quickly rolled in annoyance before the guest fully stepped in. At least they knocked before barging in.

Pi finished his loop before gently tucking the needle underneath the stitch. Though his lower body didn't move, Pi straightened his shoulders and raised his head to the newcomer. She stood tall and proud, showcasing the telltale posture of an Ebonstryfe soldier. If he didn't have to depend on people for his profession then Pi certainly would have rolled his eyes again. Instead, he chose to politely nod to his guest.

"Excuse the mess." Pi wove his long fingers together as he noted the woman's disdain. "I'm not in this office very often." His expressions remained unaffected. He could care less whether or not this stranger thought highly of the closet that he temporarily called his office. Her feelings were inconsequential, though he would try his best to accommodate them if it meant more mizas in his pocket.

"I am he." Pi chirped, relieved to have a break from the relentless sweaty pants. "And you are?" A custom set of clothes was an exciting prospect and Piraen's mind was already running through ideas as they went through the niceties. After she finished speaking, Pi nodded once more before speaking. "What kind of clothes are you looking for?"