The Flaneur & The Gladiator

[Thomas]

Thomas felt a bit silly for just saying "the outfitter" as though Zilrud would have any conception of what he meant. The man had never been shopping before, or at least he hadn't been shopping in a way that a Rienese or Griscian would recognize. Thomas had a spot in mind that was a short walk from where they'd just been, and though there were plenty of people bustling about, the crowd and the crowd's studied disinterest in acknowledging Zilrud's presence gave them a certain kind of privacy. So It seemed safe enough to potentially make some innocuous conversation.

To Thomas, it was a pedestrian enough sight. He wondered what Zilrud made of it, though: the fast moving crowd ambling and pulsating through the streets, the food and drink vendors trying to get them to stop for some hot food or mulled wine. The people of Kastren were not particularly known for being fashionable, but everyone was well-dressed in their own way -- few people in Lorien were poor, after all; it wasn't Grisic. So there were no beggars, and there were no ragbins, at least. A few hawkers who looked rather threadbare that he assumed were Nameless, as he had once been, but nothing that extrordinary. Nevertheless, to someone unaccustomed maybe it was interesting, or beautiful. Or maybe it was just confusing and arbitrary.

"Thank you for coming with me to do this, Zilrud. I'm excited to get you some clothes that you like that are not just someone else's cast-offs. In Rokhan, when you were younger, did you go to markets often? Or buy things?"

It was the first time Thomas had ever asked about a specific aspect of Zilrud's life before he'd been brought to Lorien. He hadn't felt that they were close enough for him to probe. He still wasn't sure they were, if he were being honest, but the question seemed harmless enough. Hopefully, the big man would not see it as intrusive or overly familiar.

[Zilrud]

Zilrud felt like it was a word he would have to figure out one way or the other, especially if he spent more time around Thomas and/or the area. As they had stepped out into the mainstay where the people were walking, Zilrud’s brows rose in curiosity as he watched everyone walking by. Some looked in their direction and quickly pretended they were looking at something else, while others ignored them altogether. Taking in a deep breath, so many scents assaulted his nose. Some smelt floral, others more musked; others had a body odor that nearly made Zilrud’s lip curl. For the most part, it seemed harmless enough. It was just enough people to make him slightly uncomfortable.

As they started heading toward the place that Thomas had in mind, it seemed Thomas wanted to have a conversation. Zilrud’s brow remained perked as he looked down at Thomas as the Ork was thanked for accompanying him and indulging Thomas in the shopping adventure. At first, Zilrud wanted to express disinterest and shrug it off, which he expressed partially anyways.

“I do not see the point of covering up for fun. War… Battle… Protection, yes. “

The Orkhai’s red eyes and head tracked someone with a hat that served no purpose but to show status and the showmanship of purchasing unique things.

“…I do not want one of those.”

He watched for a moment longer before turning his head back to Thomas.

“Not fun, but it makes Little One smile. Can not sit at a desk and pretend when you are seeing… Outfitters, hm?”

Zilrud’s perhaps poor taste at making a joke, partially at Thomas’s expense, but also his own. The other part of what Thomas had said, the Orkhai actually had to think about. Most times, he would just answer without thinking about it, but his childhood was something many humans would judge and not quite understand. But Thomas was not many humans, nor had he judged him too harshly on anything the Orkhai had shared so far. Clearing his throat, he answered to the best of his ability.

“When I was young, I fought. Orkhai learns to fight when they can stand on their own two legs. The quicker Orkhai draw blood, the quicker they can fight. The quicker they can fight, the more they can kill fellow Orkhai clans trying to take land and leadership in Rokhan and outsiders. “

He paused as a genuine, authentic smile split the Orkhai’s features.

“We do not have like this.”

Zilrud’s chin nodded to street vendors or shopkeepers in their doorways or just outside of their shops, trying to get customers to come in.

“But I did buy a weapon when I was young… And a harness. Used them a lot when I fought growing up.”

His smile was growing wider.

“No markets, except for an old Orkhai who sold dried meats. Treats after training.”

So his happy memories when he was younger involved fighting and not necessarily shopping in the sense that Thomas was talking about. The smile did falter slightly as he looked back to the crowd and continued speaking to Thomas, but the topic did change ever-so-not-slightly. He felt the urge to say it, even if it didn’t quite fit with the flow of their conversation.

“You are soft.”

It was something that had Thomas reacting in the past, but this time, Zilrud had tacked something on afterward. Something he had not quite said or offered to Thomas in tandem with calling him soft.

“…I like softness.”

The statuesque yet gruesome (to some) face remained staring ahead, but his red-eyed gaze slid to the corner of his eyes to look at Thomas, gauging his reaction. It was perhaps known, by then, that Zilrud acknowledged affection toward Thomas, but he rarely spoke compliments or terms of endearment to Thomas. And Thomas was putting up with his ignorance of what they were doing and paying for things for him; Zilrud acknowledged that and wanted to offer something simple in return.

[Thomas]

Thomas had wondered what it was like in Rokhan. The okrhai he'd known in Grisic had seemed like nice enough fellows, if a bit clannish and secretive, but the freewheeling, chaotic, and violent upbringing Zilrud conjured with his words was far beyond what he had imagined. By human standards, it was a brutal and, well, inhuman way to bring up a child. Perhaps the orkhai were built differently to be able to go through such things and come out okay. Or perhaps they did not come out okay. Certainly, Thomas wondered how many of his countrymen would be able to hold down their jobs and support the Pillars if one took away the alcohol and drugs and tinctures that kept them upright and functional. Maybe the orkhai of Rokhan were similar. Functional did not mean healthy, after all. There were plenty of walking wounded.

It didn't mean that Zilrud's childhood had been okay, but, really, who was he to judge? His understanding was that his own childhood had been rather meager and deprived, in its own way, and he had become a functional adult. He was fairly sure. Who was he to deny the same to Zilrud?

Hearing the familiar pronouncement that he was soft no longer made him bristle. It was something Zilrud said to him often enough that the sting had gone out of the words. When it had started up, Thomas had assumed that Zilrud had meant that he was weak, not worthy of respecting, foolish. Then, he had come to conclude that Zilrud was merely saying that the two of them were quite different. Which, in Thomas' estimation, was quite true.

Those last three words changed everything, though. I like softness. Thomas wondered if it had been a compliment this whole time, or if it had become one as they continued to get to know one another.

He didn't reply right away, but continued talking with Zilrud in tow. When they reached the plate glass display of the shop Thomas intended to go inside, he stopped. It was a bit out of the way here, so he wasn't standing in anyone's way by not moving along the sidewalk.

In a reversal of how things usually went, he got into Zilrud's personal space, closing the distance between them and embracing the orkhai.

"I like you, too," he said. It was scary to realize just how much he meant it.

[Zilrud]

Whether or not Zilrud had meant it as a compliment the entire time would remain an Orkish secret that would stay in the depths of Zilrud’s mind, maybe. Either way, as they had walked, he had noticed that Thomas had grown quieter, and it was quite unlike Thomas to be the quiet one. Usually, he talked about something or another, whether with the house, his own life, or something he was curious about. The Griscian always had something to say, filling the silence with something.

When the pair of them stopped outside the shop, the Orkhai was looking through the glass display, not quite sure what he was getting himself into with an actual pair of pants tailored to fit him. There was no offense to Thomas’s mate regarding the second-hand clothing he had been given to wear. Still, if what Thomas was saying was true about having fit clothes, he would be happier to at least be forced to wear something tailored to his body rather than someone else’s. The red eyes looked over what they could see inside the shop when he felt arms coming to embrace him and felt Thomas against him, followed by a reply to what the Orkhai had said about liking soft things.

In a reaction, his arms lifted at the shoulders, his biceps straining against the material of the tunic for a moment as he felt the closeness. A lift of his gaze took in the few relatively closer people, half-worried someone would say something to Thomas for showing affection to an Orkhai. It was the type of treatment he was used to in Lorien. Slowly, his gaze lowered back down to the man embracing him, and his shoulders gently returned to a relaxed position. Rather than draping the large, bulky arms over Thomas’s body, one of the larger hands lifted to hold to the back of Thomas’s head and held him close against him.

Zilrud enjoyed the company that the Little One provided him and enjoyed the idea that it was something new that both of them seemed to be trying. For a brief moment, the Orkhai’s features softened, and he took in a deep breath, his pectorals and abdomen flexing, raising, and tightening. He breathed through his tusked mouth as his thumb lifted to stroke against the back of Thomas’s head, offering the smallest gesture of affection for the boy.

Zilrud did not mind the display of affection, which caught him off-guard, mostly because he was not used to it, especially in public where people could see. Humans typically did not engage in affection with him, let alone in front of others. So Thomas openly offered to embrace him, and giving him a few of his own words in reply was something the Orkhai was not used to receiving.

“…You are touching me… Where people can see…”

It was not a complaint. It was something that had never happened before, and although his hand was holding the back of Thomas’s head, the Orkhai was still shocked it had happened, which was why his red eyes widened a bit more as he looked on, studying what he could of the human. Regardless of his words, Zilrud made no movement to stop the embrace from happening.

[Thomas]

Zilrud was right, of course. It was a bit untoward to embrace someone publicly like this, let alone in Lorien. They were not known for being a particularly affectionate people, at least not in public. So after a bit, Thomas indicated that he wanted to pull back.

"I didn't expect to get an etiquette lesson from you, Sir," he said, teasing the orkhai in turn. "You are correct, though. It's not generally appropriate to embrace someone in public. At least not here in Lorien. One of the privileges of social status, however, is occasionally getting to flout the rules. If these people knew my name or I had a social circle here to speak of, perhaps there would be nasty rumors about what I'm doing behind my husband's back. The fact is, however, that all three of us are quite free to engage with others outside of our marriage in whatever fashion makes sense. I have not indulged in that this year, as I've been rather consumed with trying to learn to be a proper administrator for the estate, but Wendell does quite frequently, and is not shy about it."

Lest Zilrud get the wrong idea, Thomas hastened to clarify: "This does not perturb me in the least. Wendell deserves every happiness, and he has done much for me. If he wishes to dip his pen in another ink pot, I shall not fuss."

He made no mention of his feelings on his other husband's infidelity. He knew he should feel the same about Taelian's right to extramarital adventures as Wendell, but the fact was, he did not. The best way to be a hypocrite was to be silent, so Thomas said nothing.

"Shall we go inside?" He said, in an abrupt and obvious attempt to move on from this line of inquiry. "I'm sure you're absolutely champing at the bit to be measured for some trousers that have proper room for your thighs."

[Zilrud]

Zilrud’s expression changed, mirroring the thought process that was going through his head at those moments. The embrace was not something that the Orkhai was questioning, nor had he meant to point out the fact that they were showing affection in a society of people that had every intention of betraying mortal desires and needs. For once, Zilrud allowed Thomas to finish his words, politely without interruption. Once he had finished speaking, though, the emotions that played out were unknown as he had not said any words. The Orkhai squared up in front of Thomas as he had asked about moving inside, changing the subject, but Zilrud was not ready.

Perhaps rougher than needed but not rough enough to leave a terrible enough mark, the Orkhai’s hand pressed to Thomas’s chest and pressed him backward until Thomas’s back lightly banged against the corner of that paned glass Lowering himself down, the Orkhai’s eyes turned near glare-worthy as he leveled his view with Thomas’s and stared straight into the other’s eyes.

“I do not care about your husbands. Where are they? Not here. I am here. Let the others look.”

For a brief moment, Thomas was spared the intense glare of the ruby gaze as it lifted to others that were semi-near them and then back to Thomas.

“I don’t care what they do. I care what Little One does. I do not want you to have problems because you touched me.”

It was not lost upon Zilrud what merely being in the presence of someone like Zilrud could eventually mean for Thomas’s reputation. The fact that Thomas had embraced him jeopardized that to the society he lived in. Zilrud was taken by surprise by the affection overall.

“Little One can hold his Large One whenever he wishes. I do not care what they think of me.”

The single hand that had moved Thomas flattened against the Griscian’s abdomen, and the Orkhai leaned closer. The glaring gaze moved forward, closer and closer to Thomas’s own, before he paused. Lifting his other hand, the larger fingers slid underneath, the shorter of the pair’s chin, and tilted it upwards so the boy was looking up at an angle, and Zilrud lifted himself just slightly enough to meet the new angle with his gaze.

“Thomas is shopping with his Orkhai. If Thomas keeps smiling, his Orkhai will keep shopping until everyone is gone.”

It wasn’t a ploy to get money, but the Orkhai spoke loudly. The deeper, booming voice echoed out as he wanted people to hear, even though the name would mean next to nothing, perhaps. But it did not matter. With a cocky smirk creasing his lips and twisting his mouth to the side, the Ork leaned in and pressed his lips against Thomas’s in a display of affection that was much more compromising than an embrace. The Orkhai had done it on purpose, of course. But what purpose was for anyone else to figure it out? For now, he allowed the kiss to linger a moment longer before he pulled back, satisfied with the sharing of affection, and stood upright.

“Now, show your Orkhai what an… Outfitter… is.”

An almost taunting, gesturing brow was raised as he looked down to Thomas, waiting for him to lead the way.

[Thomas]

Zilrud's response could not have been better. Thomas had held back on mentioning the arrangement in case it would cause how Zilrud treated him to change. The man held bonds, and the concept of mates, in high regard. Thomas had wondered if Zilrud thought less of him for their involvement from that perspective. From his perspective, it seemed it didn't matter that Thomas belonged to someone else on paper. The person who was actually here was him, not Taelian, and not Wendall. Therefore, their claim was invalid. That's how Thomas interpreted what he'd said.

Then, with Zilrud's strong hand finding his bare skin under his finery, he impressed upon Thomas how much he was willing to do for him. For a man who was used to hearing declarations of love but not of loyalty, it was affecting.

To the Rienese passerby that saw a shouting giant Nameless, it was affecting but in a different way. Zilrud managed to penetrate the mental forcefields they put up between him and the pair of them, and now was getting scared and startled looks instead. Thomas wondered if one of the shoppers would call upon an Argent to deal with the public nuisance or if they would just mind their business like the beneficiaries of their perfectly organized society. He rather hoped for the latter. He had no interest in talking to an Argent today, as he had no interest in talking to an Argent most days.

"You will best this challenge ably, I'm sure," Thomas said, eyes sparkling in the chill afternoon light as he looked up at Zilrud.

He opened the door to the outfitter's, and was put a bit on edge by what he saw. For one thing, the store was rather full. There was what looked like a full family of Celebrants getting measured and fitted, perhaps for some kind of fete. It was the proper time of year for it. He and Wendall had received a few invitations, though Wendall responded to most merely by sending his card and regards. Apparently, the civil war was putting a bit of a damper in socializing this season.

Still, the shop clerk and the family just gaped open mouth at Zilrud for a few seconds.

"Good afternoon," Thomas said, filling the vacuum with words and an attempt at charm: "provided there is space for us, I'd be most interested in a member of this establishment assisting me and my colleague Zilrud in selecting a winter wardrobe appropriate for a man of his significance." He was pleased with that word -- let them guess if he merely meant the orkhai's physical size or was hinting at the fact that Zilrud was a higher status individual than they might suspect.

At length, a single shop girl split off from the Celebrant family to assist him with his request. They were seated as far away as possible from the other customers, though Thomas personally did not mind. He had no great interest in making polite conversation while their pretty, empty-headed adolescents settled on the perfect brocade for their blazers.

"Today, we're looking to do a complete collection of basic clothing: shirts, jackets, trousers, socks, and smallclothes. My hope is that we end up with no fewer than three outfits, and I'd prefer to see up to five. Once we pick out appropriate patterns for Zilrud, I recommend you measure him. Pay close attention to the contours of his body," Thomas said, cooly factual, "as clothes that will fit even a muscular human will snag on his frame. Anything we purchase will require significant accommodation and alteration from your base pattern."

"Very good, Sir," said the girl, a tall young woman plainly dressed in grey wool trousers and a black draped sweater, scarcely older than the Celebrants she had been helping scant moments earlier. If she didn't seem thrilled to be talking to them, well, she didn't seem disappointed to be away from the other family.

Thomas would take polite and neutral if that was all he was going to get.

[Zilrud]

Zilrud had no care if they were looking at him or not. He would mind if someone called some kind of authority on him merely for speaking louder than a whisper to someone he was traveling with. For the moment, though, it seemed people were merely content with gawking and giving them a wider berth than they’d had before. So only when Thomas pulled from him to enter the establishment would Zilrud stand more upright and follow him in.

The Orkhai’s right brow rose high with the entirety of a family inside and a few other patrons and the staff all pausing to stare, some with mouths agape. People staring did not bother Zilrud. He was used to it, especially when a human was staring. Red eyes scanned over those looking in his direction, and he took the family in and then glanced at Thomas as he asked for help from anyone willing to help. The mention of his name, though, did cause Zilrud to pause and look back to Thomas. This was mostly because not many people spoke his name, and not many knew him by it, either. So when he said it, the red eyes slid over to that family and then back to Thomas, who was looking at the girl who was approaching, offering her services.

Turning slightly to regard the Griscian and the girl more properly, he nodded as Thomas spoke about finding something for his body. The left brow joined the right in a united front as they raised in question to the idea of three outfits at the least to walk away with, but returned to nodding as he was letting the girl know to offer a bit of extra space considering his body. And although Thomas said it, the Orkhai had to reiterate it, which he did with his deeper voice.

“Little One knows Orkhai’s body very well. Listen.”

Pointing a finger to the girl, it lifted toward Thomas, then back to her, then back to Thomas, making sure she understood Thomas’s request(s). The large green man turned once he finished instructing the woman and grunted but thought twice about second-guessing Thomas’s ideas. Small clothes were so confining, but just because Thomas ensured he got them did not mean he had to wear them at all times.
Lifting a hand, he placed it on the back of Thomas’s neck. He squeezed it, letting his hand rest there as he appreciated the human taking charge of the shopping, allowing a translation between grunts with almost no inflection of feelings and then anger. Looking at the girl, Zilrud nodded his head and snorted. “Need to take clothes off?” He asked the girl, ready to disrobe if needed since she would have to measure him pretty much from head to toe.

[Thomas]

One of the key differences between Rienese service and Griscian service was that the Rienese of lesser money and status were far more bold. When the orkhai pointed to Thomas and said that he knew Zilrud's body well, the girl raised an eyebrow and gave him a little smirk. In Grisic, she wouldn't have dared. Complete facial control was table stakes in the world of serving the wealthy. This was not so here.

Still, she didn't comment on it verbally. She bobbed her head and said "Very good, Sir," to Zilrud.

Thomas, for his part, knew better than to justify, argue defend, or explain the comment. Let her think what she wanted about what Zilrud meant. It was none of her business and none of her concern.

Instead, he began looking through some of the discarded pattern books strewn about the table, but didn't find anything suitable. Most of what he was looking at was far too fussy and would be too tight. He'd watched Zilrud's arms almost burst through the sleeves of more structured garments while he chopped wood or hauled heavy loads around the state. The warrior needed something that gathered at the shoulder and then had ample drape over the bicep, and the structured bolero style jackets in this book were not going to work. Besides, they were fussy, showy pieces. Zilrud would despise them.

"That won't be necessary at this time, Sir," the shopkeep said, trying and failing to contain a smile.

Thomas' eyes narrowed briefly. Impudence was the provenance of people who were forced into a position they felt they didn't deserve. She was saying she felt she was better than him and his choice of guest. It was tempting to pitch some sort of royal fit, but really, venting his spleen over this treatment would not accomplish his goals.

Instead, he chose to take control of the situation.

"None of these pattern books are right," he said. "Please bring me what you have for shirts that are loose in the sleeve, gathered at the cuff and the shoulder. I'd prefer styles that pull on or tie on to styles that button. If some of those are in use," a brief head motion gestured to the other customers, still immersed in brocades, "then we can start elsewhere, perhaps with something simpler, like socks, until you feel you have a good understanding of what it is we're looking for."

He may as well have slapped her across the face. It would have been kinder. She went from smiling to a more neutral expression quickly. "Very good, Sir," she said, and sped away to do as she'd been bid.

Thomas looked over at Zilrud to see if he'd picked up on anything that had happened in the last few minutes, or if he'd just noticed a slight disagreement.

"Good help can be hard to find," he said to Zilrud by way of explanation, an easy smile showing that he wasn't actually all that upset. He had no desire to watch the orkhai prove himself to be some kind of brute and make good on his occasional threats on drinking the marrow of those that crossed him.

[Zilrud]

The girl was smiling. At least that meant she wasn’t scowling or cowering in fear from him. The last shopkeeper was afraid of even looking in his direction half of the time. In the beginning of the conversation, he glanced toward the woman as she was getting things ready and then over to Thomas as he was explaining what it was that he was looking for in terms of Zilrud’s comfort. For a brief moment, he allowed his gaze to settle on Thomas and watch him talk and then flip through the pages, and then back to the woman who answered Zilrud’s request for needing to remove clothes to get proper measurements. Remaining silent, as he had done in the previous shop, he watched the woman with her smile, but one look at Thomas showed that he was not returning her smile. The Orkhai was lost upon the finer art of conversational warfare, but he knew Thomas’s smile, or when he was appeased and keeping the smile at bay. Neither of those were happening at the moment, so he was curious as to why the woman was smiling.

The final set of words had the larger, green male looking back at her, and she seemed to sober up rather quick;y before she disappeared back towards looking for the types of patterns and styles that Thomas had requested. The tone said enough, and as the Orkhai’s red eyes tracked the woman off, he turned to Thomas, who was speaking of help being hard to find. Was it hard to find? Turning his head back to the plethora of guests who seemed to be trying to figure things out and selfishly occupying most of the staff’s times, he let out a quieter hum as he thought. Regardless if Thomas was upset or not, the Orkhai’s hand lifted and patted the Griscian’s head as his other hand pulled up the book to thumb through it, and his nose crinkled by the second page. Did people wear things like that? He was glad Thomas was there to keep things like that from finding their way to the Orkhai’s body.

“Did I do something wrong?”

He asked as he was looking down at what he was wearing and then tossed the book back down, haphazardly and allowed his gaze to linger on it. He was not sure if he had said something to cause the verbal… Whatever it was. His head did tilt though as he finally lowered his hand from the other’s head and let the arm fall to his side.

“What do they need to measure for clothes?”

He assumed arms, legs, and chest. He had not thought anything like inseams existed or any other measurement that would help the garments fit better to his body type rather than just tossing some form of a poncho over him and pretending it was a shirt meant for ballroom dancing.