Gerrel can’t really afford the most fancy of duds for the ball, but that’s okay, he can tailor his own when he needs to. The Legion of Red Protectors may be expected to die en masse to save the lives of those they’re assigned to, but it’s still a prestigious fleet role to have if you think about it. So why not honor their spirit by making an outfit modeled after theirs?
Whether or not he knows how to use that possibly fake sword is a secret known only to him and whoever bothers to read his 80 page long resume.
A two-man artpiece I commissioned from my friend Silvy, please consider commissioning her while she still has some slots open!
Callan is so dedicated to getting his moirail into pop culture so he doesn’t look like a buffoon. Gerrel doesn’t really get this show, but it can be funny sometimes, and he... doesn’t mind if Callan wants to do things like this. Not at all, really.
Gerrel isn't even phased if he runs into his boss bleeding out and stuck to the table. He's no master surgeon but he knows enough first aid to slow the bleeding enough to get him to a proper doctor to check for internal bleeding and nerve/muscle damage to the hand.
Mostly he's just confused as to why Vil even invited someone who would do this to him over to the hive.
Gerrel is juggling hanging out with Callan at the ball and also spending time with Villoh.
Yes, villoh, callan's face is. Like that. Don't worry about it. He's a cool guy.
Yarrex, dressed like a pirate, is eating snacks with Friday and gossiping about the Mistletoe Incident where his boss can't hear him. He's severely tempted to mention the Confession, but figures keeping half your secrets secret is a good idea.
Argumi is thrilled to be at a real live party! He has to keep stepping out though, his dampener is going through hell with this many people around. He's got a bottle of aspirin ready to go for tonight.
Gerrel sat at his desk, dressed in a simple grey shirt and shorts, feet swinging freely from his chair. Piles of fabrics and tailoring supplies towered across his desk, nearly blocking the light hanging overhead from reaching the young troll. Tacked to the wall just above his desk was a note from the person training him, which read:
"Either get it right or don't come back at all."
Behind him was a large bin, which contained multiple outfits apparently deemed 'failures.' The stitching was wrong, the cut was wrong, everything about them was wrong, wrong, wrong. It would not be good enough and it would not be right. He had not spent so long learning as an apprentice to produce something mediocre. His hands felt sore from how long he'd been swapping between different tools, his back was creaking from the hours spent hunched over, and his eyes were starting to burn from lack of sleep.
None of that deterred him. He would get this right or he would not get it at all. Sleep and hunger could fall by the wayside for all he cared at the moment. He grabbed a set of red fabrics and began measuring them out. At this point he understood his own measurements by heart, each number burned into his brain.
Meeting the tailor had been a mere stroke of luck, one that promised to turn his life around. Yet, his training could go no further if he could not pass this test. It was unsuitable for him to continue working without proper attire, and it could not be one his own master had made. To prove he had learned anything at all, he would need to make this entirely for himself.
So it was that when he set his tools down some hours later, he did so with immense satisfaction. 'This is the one,' he thought to himself. He stood up, hearing his bones pop all across his body, and stretched. Then, without further ado, he grabbed the assembled outfit and rushed over to the floor mirror positioned nearby.
He swiftly changed into the tailored material, exchanging his dark grey t-shirt for a jet black one, which would complement the dark red suit jacket he had made. It slipped up and over his shoulders, fitting his body perfectly. The trousers too made it onto him easily, the matching red hue clinging just so to his body as to accentuate his natural form. It did not feel tight, it did not stretch where it should not. He looked at himself in the mirror:
He saw a young troll, wearing a handmade red suit. His symbol, color switched for black, was sewn into the right side of the jacket. Despite his small stature, he felt a trill of professional pride run through him - though he could not help but pause and fruitlessly try to flatten his shaggy looking hair. He then spotted his bare feet, and chastised himself. He disappeared into a nearby closet and hopped back out, a pair of black socks pulled over his feet. He staggered about, tugging highly polished black oxford shoes onto his feet, before resuming his place in front of the mirror.
"Perfect!" he declared, smiling tiredly yet brightly at his reflection.
'Not perfect,' his master would later chide, with a small smile on his face. 'But one night. With practice.'
Gerrel's heart would swell again too, then with great pride at the implied praise.
Gerrel, being told that Actually, One of Them Can Mind Control Every One Of Us: I really do feel like this has gotten silly. I bet that disgusting old lizard is just loving all of this from its perch in hell.
Raitrolling: callan trying to wingman for gerrel by casually dropping mentions about the time gerrel totally saved all those orphaned puppies from a burning building and also donates to charity to help guys who lost their arms in The War whenever he's in earshot of villoh. a+ moirail tactics
@raitrolling
Gerrel notes he only managed to save the puppies thanks to all his moirails lessons on acrobatics, really, callan's the true hero if you think about it (the latter part said entirely seriously, because he loves his pale crush)
Though he has to wonder who specificity built a puppy orphanage. Seems an odd choice of property to invest in.
Divinebastet: helios will ask argumi to dance :>
@divinebastet
Argumi would happily agree! Helios is certainly free to dance with him, though he wonders if he minds having to reach down so much, maybe he should've brought a step ladder!
