"phainon..." aglaea's voice trails on - with that distinctive gentle inflexion where a light, mild warning lingers... laced with a hint of amusement. did he really think she wouldn't notice, or had he hoped that he wouldn't run into her that day? either way, perhaps this is the welcome distraction she needed after a rather difficult meeting with the council of elders. "please tell me you are not going out in those clothes. if there is something wrong or that you dislike about the ones i made for you, i would be happy to mend them more to your liking." to a degree. this man truly cannot be trusted with fashion choices.
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€His stroll towards the market was interrupted the moment HE HEARD HIS NAME uttered with that unmistakable chiding cadence, pausing mid-step to glance over his shoulder at the seamstress. A rueful smile pulls on his lips, caught red-handed β this was neither the first nor would it be the last time that Aglaea pulled him back by the proverbial scruff. Though, in spite of that, he still acted clueless about the grave fashion faux pas he had committed.
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€β Aglaea! Not a fan of my outfit, I take it? βγ
€Whether it was genuine obliviousness or merely acting obtuse, Phainon kept his tone light and teasing. Even as he glanced down at himself, he did so with the detached curiosity of someone surveying a mystery entirely separate from themselves, as if the mismatched ensemble had appeared upon him by DIVINE INTERVENTION and not by choice. Granted, that choice was dubious at best : neither the ochre tunic, the off-puttingly bright green sash nor the cloak which looked like it had been cut from the hide of a well-loved tent did the swordsman any favors.
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€β I thought this color brought out my eyes, βγ
€he explains, gesturing vaguely to the unappealing shade of muddy orange. But to anyone with the faintest sense of fashion, he had committed SEVERAL SINS β for all of his other strengths, choosing a flattering ensemble was not among them.γ
€β I do truly appreciate your work. Really, I do! βγ
€His palm placed upon his chest, only the mirth in his eyes betrayed the underlying jest.γ
€β The craftsmanship, the stitching, the ... what do you call it? Drape? It's all very drapey. In a good way, of course! βγ
€But he also knew Aglaea well enough to see the weariness she carried ; the way her shoulders held tension akin to embroidery stretched too taut. If dressing like a color-blind fool could coax even a glimmer of fond amusement from her, then perhaps it was not such a crime after all.γ
€β But you must admit, it has a certain rustic charm to it, doesn't it? β
