The Tailor

The market place of Redle though quiet open had proven to be laden with distractions. Many of which came in the form of passing by women of various beauties. Blondes, brunettes, red heads. Young, mature, even a few nearing their later years but still looked to be in their prime.

Some of the more curvaceous sorts even took to wearing more revealing clothes, low cut tops that their bosoms billowed forth from, slit thighed dresses that went all the way up to their hips revealing a lack of undergarments—something Noah was all too accustomed to in this world.

In the ten or so minutes he'd been away from Liora and Caina he felt he'd walked into a crowed of hungry eyes, each scanning him like he was a prime cut of meat ready to be taken home and ridden. Something he truly didn't want to do right now considering he was still reeling from his encounter with the nuns at the church.

"Haa… This world is going to kill me," already feeling an eighty-year-old ache in his back, Noah groaned.

Continuing his trek through the square he would often stop by a few of the stands and take a peek at their wares. All primarily mundane in appearance but a few he'd found particularly interesting, like this hair ornament that could give someone's hair a faint shade of a new colour. The woman who'd been tending the stand—a cute young girl with shiny blonde hair and a few freckles—had even shown him its effect by pushing it into her hair, stroking the small colourless gem while mouthing something only for the gem to gush a shiny pink tone that melted into her hair turning it from its regal blonde into an unusual pinkish tone.

It was an intriguing sight and a handy version of those hair dyes back on earth. Here though it was this more versatile, less permanent option to hair colouring allowing for more customization of ones appearance.

Problem being, when he inquired to its price he was met with a slap in the face in the form of 1500 buckles. Which was a good three times what he had on him. The woman seemed to see his flinch and was quick on the uptake, quickly decreasing the price to a neat 1000, only for him to start saying 'sorry' and 'I don't have the money' followed by backing away feeling like he'd just lead the woman on.

She had looked saddened, at least until he was gone after which she scowled and moved onto the next prospective customer. Pushing Noah far into her archives of 'don't bother with,' filled with all the poor sods who couldn't afford some cheap piece of metal and stone.

As he walked, Noah soon came to pause before a small cottage like building, outside the door of which a sign hung with a spool of thread and a needle but no name.

"If theres a tailor, it's this place," he mumbled at the apt choice of signage and brought himself to the open wood and metal door, entering into a rustic shop room with a few olden mannequins with no heads, arms, or legs, were dotted around the walls. All wearing a different form of clothing. One—the smallest of the mannequins—was wearing a shortsleeved blouse topped with a red leather blazer and a set of booty shorts. Another was clad in an ankle length, straight green hued dress that dropped to half way down the mannequins bosom, and a brown corset strapped with black leather lace that would likely prop up a woman's bust were it worn on a real woman.

His boot falls echoed within the sparsely filled room, only one woman wandering about inspecting a few of the other mannequins while poking and pinching the dresses to test their fabric's coarseness. Her head tilted Noah's way and gave him a quick nod before returning to what it was she was doing.

A faint flush took to Noah's cheeks as when the woman turned her head, Noah came to see her plump bosom bounce, unfettered by a a top, leaving her two pointed, pink nipples wide open and glorious for him to gulp at.

'Why is she naked?' he knew the answer was likely to go far against his norms. But Noah was quick to distract himself and avoided gazing her way.

Looking around the room, Noah found a question pushing its way into his mind, 'where are the mens clothes?' as there weren't any on display, anywhere.

Heavy footfalls soon broke Noah from his thoughts, calling him to turn his gaze away from a particularly sheer, frilled bell sleeve top and onto an elderly, heavily wrinkled man dressed in a simple accoutrement of brown pants, white yellow tunic that hung loose around the wrist and was topped with a neat brown fronted and black backed vest. Carrying in his arms a folded bit of see-through fabric.

"Here's your dress Alicia dear," the man said earning the womans sparkling attention.

"Perfect," she said quickly bringing herself before the man to take the dress in hand and pulled it on, covering her bosom with loosely hanging fabric that barely hid the pertness of her chest, "how much do I owe you?" she asked.

The man chuckled and shook his head, "oh nothing dear. It was a small tear, nothing worthy of a price."

The woman beamed, "really? Are you sure? you still had to work on it and I would feel terrible to deprive you of your time for free."

The elderly tailor hummed and pinched his sagging, patchy skinned chin, "then, how about you bring me a nice cabbage then? Harvest should be right around the corner and Maria has been wanting to try out some new fermenting techniques."

"Of course Ingvald. I'll bring you the best one from the fields once they're ready."

The named Ingvald bobbed his head, "perfect. Then it's a deal. Have a great evening Alicia. Give Hinge my greetings won't you?"

"Of course, blessed evenings Ingvald!" the woman left with one final saying, disappearing into the throngs of Redle with a bit of pep to her step.

"Good lass," Ingvald nodded and tilted his gaze Noah's way. "Ah," he exclaimed, "evenings young man. How can old Ingvald help you?" Ingvald crossed a hand behind his hunched back and asked.

Noah strode across the shop floor to stop before the man, "I'm looking to get some new clothes for myself, most of what I've got is pass me downs and they don't really fit perfectly."

Ingvald gazed across Noah's haggard and fray hemmed clothing, noting a few sags here and there and finding the form not fitting with Noah's physique. "yes, I can see that. Come, come," Ingvald tilted his head to a counter like table, taking position on the opposite side. His eyes still analytically wandering over Noah's form. "Is your current state prolonged or are you going to be getting a bit more fat to your bones?" he quirked a kindly smile.

Taken slightly aback, Noah responded, "uh, probably going to get some meat back."

"Right," Ignvald nodded scratching at his hip, "then you'll want something to grow into once that comes about, won't be too much of a problem." Turning on point, Ingvald drew himself away after logging his rough estimates of Noah's shape and brought himself into a back room. Leaving Noah to glance around at the mannequins until Ingvald returned carrying what could be surmounted to a wicker basket bursting at the seams stuffed with garbs.

Thumping the basket heavily onto the rough mahogany table, Ingvald pulled from it a light brown tunic and handed it over to Noah. "Try that on, let's see how it fits."

Noah nodded and cast a look around but found not what he was looking for, "do you have a dressing room I can use?"

Ingvald's brow rose an inch, barely opening his eye from its sagging skin cover. "No. Just do it here. Ain't no one going to mock you for your dangly bits round here."

'It's not people mocking my 'dangly bits' that I'm worried about,' Noah turned his head to the entrance way, just in time to see a short statured girl wander in casting an inquisitive look to the booty shorted mannequin.

'Haa… just accept it Noah,' he blanked out and moved to remove his shirt, replacing it with the tunic Ingvald presented. Finding it fit, though the shoulders were a little too large.

"Try this one next," Ingvald dug through the basket, plucking from within a matte grey, silken blouse and passed it to Noah, letting him once again strip his top, feeling not one, but three feminine sets of eyes staring at his back with a slight heat to them.

"Looks good," Ingvald nodded proudly seeing the blouse fit Noah perfectly. "Now, onto your pants," a set of sleek, brown woollen pants appeared in his grips and were held out to Noah.

Noah took them, holding them with a twitch to his eye and a tilt of his head to the five woman, three of which were peaking in from the doorway, eyes hungry with anticipation.

"You… don't happen to have underpants, do you?"

Ingvald turned a curious tilt, "aye, sorry, ain't got anything fancy like that on me. Ain't much ask for them round these parts. If you want, you can commission a few and I'll make em special for you."

'Wait. Underwear exists!?'

It just wasn't widely spread, apparently.