"Can I ask my lord for a new robe?"
The time is ripe for a new raid. Heysel’s inquiry marks only one of many occasions he has considered that she should enjoy a wider choice of wardrobe, ideally as diverse as her skillset. The nomadic merchant by the church lacked the materials he’s looking for, and it would be wise to leave the caravans atop the plateau in peace for some time lest they draw too much attention. Perhaps the castle further north..?
How he wishes he found safer passage into the domain of the Carian family! Such wealth of means and minerals, enviable artisans in service of nobles and scholars, not to mention the historical worth of its many treasures. Even their grotesque guardian dogs, the many-fingered constructs, are remarkably adorned. Cayin allows himself to drift away from practicality into the unlikelier ambitions that could be achieved from those spoils.
Perhaps this time she will receive an attire more scholarly, so that she may wear it in her own studies? For his assassin is a sharpened knife, yes, but also the craftsman of the blade she embodies, and its learned wielder. The robes, if they are anything like the academy’s, could prove a tad cumbersome, but they can surely be adapted… and though the manor stands on the opposite end in the Queen’s lands, Heysel’s home inherited much of its identity from the origin.
Come to think of it, did the line of the volcano’s old ruler not stem from the same pedigree? Perhaps the abandoned holds surrounding it could hide something of worth.
“You shall have it. Though I will have need of your inventiveness to make it a worthy gift…”
What might they find? Dyes that can exalt rags into cloaks? A brooch dedicated to one of the celestial bodies? The dragon eyes fall upon the voidknower, and his mind’s eye conjures delights over her body, celestial in its own right. Lavish pendants, a jewelled headband, soft fabrics to act as courtains for her elegant frame…
She deserves a more tailored approach, like those enjoyed by the highborn. But there is a strange satisfaction in the uncertainty of scavenging, the brilliance that can only be achieved by accident.
“I have... ideas. I would also hear yours.”