First Stitch // Gracelyn & Oz
He’d been a beggar that morning, just to test out a character idea, that was what he told himself. On the trip into London, he’d taken to tearing and dirtying his second set of clothes for the trip until they hardly resembled anything he would have worn even on a day when he was to be nowhere near a sight of performance. He changed in a stable, and even rolled on the ground a few times to dirty himself some more and acquire a certain aroma about him that would both repulse and intrigue anyone who passed by. The height he so loved was diminished as he forced himself to stoop, and roamed through the streets with his eyes flickering between people’s lips and their feet in rapid succession as he begged for some bit of money. The good-natured but shy and out of luck beggar, that was what the character was meant to be. Hardly original, but he was trying to put a new twist on it. He just had to find what the twist would be, and the best way to do it was to always completely submerge himself into the character.
It just so happened that he kept the money he did manage to get from people, enough so that it managed to cover all the money he’d lost in expenses he paid for the Artscape in this very same city not long ago. He found, once he had enough money to make up for the financial hits he’d taken, he’d also grown tired of living life in another’s skin and very much wanted to get back to being himself. Had he found the twist? No, but he could now afford a dinner that wouldn’t be composed of mostly day old pieces. He would find the twist, the good punchline, the spark, all in good time. For now he just needed to get back into his better clothes.
They were still hidden away back at the stable, in a little nook in the wood that thankfully left them smelling faintly of something woodsy and musky instead of horse sweat. Before changing, he found himself a bucket of water and splashed it all over his arms, legs, neck, chest, and face to try to get rid of any dirt or traces of what he’d been playing as before were gone. Though a part of him told himself to dispose of the old clothes, he still just crumpled them into a ball and stored them in his rucksack before emerging from the stable with a grin and a few drops of water still slowly making their way down the sides of his face. He stretched his back out as he wiped at the droplets, satisfied with the cracking sound of his spine as the bones readjusted and he was back to his full height again.
His stomach growled slightly, but he opted to ignore it for now, despite the quiet jingle of coins in his pocket that assured him he could pay for his meal. For now he wanted to explore the city some more, when it wasn’t so overrun with performers and entertainment seekers alike. Passing by various shops, he always found himself peeking in to try to see what they might hold, or the customers who might be busying themselves there. As he passed one particular shop that a small group of attractive women had just walked out of, he found himself tracing back his past few steps and peering inside curiously. The shop certainly wasn’t tailored to him at all, but as another couple customers exited, he supposed he could easily tailor himself to suit them if they were interested. Still with his eyes on the women who were walking away from the shop, he didn’t notice another person present near him until he went to stretch his neck a little and saw the shadow. “Sorry, sorry, am I blocking your path?”