freedom_is_grey | walk, walk fashion baby

walk, walk fashion baby

It's been an interesting and adventurous few days -- understatement -- but what is coming today is perhaps the most interesting and adventurous moment of them all.

Introducing Cullen to Wade and Herren, the finest blacksmiths and designers in any country, and seeing what vision Wade has for him.

It is sure to be interesting.

And potentially life-saving, as Ysalwen has found out too many times to count.

And so.

"He's a very, um, particular sort of person, is Wade," Ysalwen murmurs to Cullen just before they enter the smithy. "Herren is the more grounded. And the more silent. Just -- try not to get offended?"

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" -- yes." He looks up. "Something short of full plate. And -- "

Cullen brushes his hand in the direction of, but does not actually touch, the knotwork pattern. "No filigree. It's -- attractive, to be sure, but it might give a grappling chain additional purchase."

(It was the flame scales that did it: now Cullen is interested.)

"Hmm."

Herren rubs his chin.

Wade looks affronted, opens his mouth, looks at Ysalwen's face, and also says "Hmm."

Ysalwen just starts peering interestedly at all the armor on display because it's there and she can.

"What about -- "

"No, no, that's too -- "

"He could try -- "

"Yes, let me get those. It's just here -- "

Shortly they have arranged several pieces in a new display, one of half plate, one of banded armor with a surcoat, and some very clean-lined greaves and pauldrons matched to an equally well-made breastplate, along with a few other bits and pieces.

A set of the clean-lined pauldrons catches Cullen's eye -- a few layers, neat-bordered, likely silverite. Which means they'd be quite light to wear.

They're paired with a silverite breastplate -- multi-layered construction, fashioned well, with ingeniously-fashioned straps connecting the two pieces. And they'd go well over the black leather armor he already has.

Cullen allows as he quite likes that set, and inquires further about its construction. (The answers are... rather to his satisfaction.)

"It's still missing something," Wade snaps, though he doesn't look displeased by Cullen's interest.

"Here. You -- put it on, put it on and let me think. His coloring? No -- his stature? No -- Something about the eyes. And the stubble."

Hmm.

"Oh, yes! I have it! No moving until I return. Except you."

Here Wade points to Cullen.

"I won't be able to see unless you're wearing it. Warriors, I swear -- "

Ysalwen just stays where she is, with several display pieces functioning as a fortress of protection between herself and Wade.

And Herren.

And Cullen.

Cullen, meanwhile, looks as though he either wants to bolt or maybe encourage Ysalwen to try to hit him again.

More hissing, to Ysalwen:

"Be my squire. Quick."

"Don't snap at me," she hisses in return, but also picks up the breastplate and, standing on tiptoes --

"Hold on a moment."

There is the loud scraping sound of Ysalwen using magic to drag an anvil over so she can stand on it.

"Here."

And then, not standing on tiptoe but standing on a chunk of iron -- she starts helping him affix the breastplate and pauldrons.

From somewhere not as far away as anyone might prefer it to be --

"Hah! Yes, here it is. A fine, fine piece, it's a shame those Avar never came to pick it back up."

Andraste save him, if this involves horns -- or worse, antlers --

"Thank you," Cullen hisses, just in time.

...how is he scared of Master Wade? It probably has something to do with the flame scales.

"You're welcome."

Ysalwen stays up on the anvil, as if that will keep Wade from looking at her.

It -- actually appears to be working, at least until she sees what he's got draped between his hands.

"Is that -- "

Never mind, she regrets saying words already.

Wade, however, proudly shakes it out to reveal a luxurious fur-ruffed coat.

Or something like a coat.

"Huh."

It's -- red.

Cullen blinks at it, not sure whether to be horrified.

The coat is cut quite strangely, and but for the fur, it's clearly designed to be ornamental -- not quite a mandilion, as it's sleeveless, but not so flashy that anyone would think it Orlesian.

(This is Cullen's primary concern, if he's being honest.)

He...

...might not find it wholly objectionable...?

The fur, though -- it does rather seem like overkill. But he stands still as Wade fusses. It seems the most advisable course of action.

"Oh!"

Ysalwen does not fall off the anvil, thank you very much. She gracefully steps down and gets out of the way, however, as the fussing occurs.

"It -- I shall never doubt your genius again, Master Wade."

It looks nice. Regal, even.

Definitely commanding, but not so noticeable that it will draw all the enemy fire in combat.

Huh.

When Master Wade is finished, there's another layer between the breastplate and surcoat -- the same woven cloth, but with the gold border more visible, a little more ornate.

"It's -- a red lion's mane, isn't it?" Cullen's read of the giant cats of the Frostback Mountains, seen drawings, heard frightful tales by the hearth (embellished horribly by his older sister, less believably by his younger brother) -- he'd never thought he'd see any part of them himself, much less wear it. "I see why the Avvar were interested. Do you have a glass?"

(Honnleath is -- was -- in the foothills of the Frostbacks.)

He nearly doesn't recognize himself, as Wade herds him to the mirror. He looks -- older. Calmer. More... settled, within himself. Perhaps it's the new scar; perhaps it's spending the last several days knowing that his work is building something for his friend (not to mention his homeland), instead of desperately trying to prevent further death and destruction in a place he hates.

(Perhaps it's the red lion's mane.

Perhaps it's the very thin, tentative notion that maybe, just maybe, it might be possible to conceive of a life that doesn't involve the Templar Order. If he can look like this --

It's not who he is, not yet, but he could be -- )

Without taking his gaze from his own reflection, without any hemming and hawing, he says to Wade, "All right."

Ysalwen can feel warmth in her face, but she tries to suppress the beaming nature of her smile just because --

Just because.

"Excellent," she says instead, because it is. "Very well done."

"Thank you, Master Wade. Herren."

From outside the smithy comes a series of loud barks. Someone, it seems, has lost their patience.

They're very... high barks.

"That's Ci," Cullen sighs. "We're working on it."

He looks at Ysalwen. "Go on, say you told me so, I know you want to."

"Key? Well, it's a solid-sounding name, I'll give it that. Unexpected, too."

She grins at that, and maybe looks a little fond, somewhere around the eyes.

"And I did tell you so. I'm glad you can admit it."

"Yes, well." Cullen manages to refrain from rolling his eyes. He is a grown adult, after all. "I can admit when I'm wrong. Though it happens quite rarely.

"And it's not -- like a lock and key. It's -- an Alamarri word. Ci. C-i."

"Yes, well. There's a third time for everything."

And a first and second, yes, but everyone already knew that.

"Ci. It's pretty. Though it's -- not a word I'm familiar with, I'm afraid. I'm assuming it means something cheerful?"

Who could look at Ci's face and not feel cheerful? No one, obviously.

"Ah."

He wasn't counting on her -- or anyone, really -- asking what it means.

"Uh. It... yes. Something like that."

Might as well get it over with. "Dog. It means dog."

She grins at that, sudden and startled.

"Ah. Well, it does have the benefit of accuracy. And like I said, it sounds pretty."

And, moving toward the door to the smithy --

"Now, shall we all be properly introduced? It only seems polite for such a fine lady as Ci."

And one must always be polite to mabari.

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walk, walk fashion baby

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