faderift | { CLOSED }

A delay would be right, though not so much in the quest for the scandalous pants as it was getting out of the house. They were called his scandal pants for a reason, as they did incite rather scandalous behavior. And he never could say no properly to Sam when he did that sort of thing to him.

He's smiling sheepishly when he comes up to her, dressed in a tunic and the uniform pants he had first come to Thedas in - dark in color, and sporting a zipper. His hair might have been a bit mussed too, though whether that was normal or Sam's doing might be anyone's guess.

"Hey! Sorry I'm a little late. Haven't been waiting long, have you?"

Christine has a good deal of patience, but Jim had said twenty minutes and he's late. Honestly, if people can't be punctual, the world will descend into chaos.

...All right, not really, but she hates to be kept waiting. She stands against a brick wall, arms folded and foot tapping as soon as she spots him. Lifting her brow, she gives him her best withering look.

"It is possible I have been. You are lucky I did not give up on you and go it alone." Not that she would unless he were an hour or more late, and he would definitely be hearing of her displeasure after. This isn't quite so big a deal, but she likes to keep up appearances. It's an Orlesian thing.

"Now, let us be off before all the shops close."

He was hardly all that late. Maybe a few minutes. Maybe. Okay, perhaps a little more, but it was hardly something he thought to get upset about, and schedules had never really been his thing in the first place. But, all right, he did feel bad for making her wait.

"I'll make it up to you," he promised, though his tone suggested he thought she was being a touch unreasonable. You Orlesians, really - always jumping to exaggerations.

"Trust me, the shops will stay open for a beauty such as yourself. They should be so honored you wish to potentially wear their product."

Christine gives him the side eye as they walk along, knowing what he's doing. He's a charmer to be sure. The truth of it is, she does like his whole thing about lavishing someone with compliments. What person wouldn't like to hear such things? However, he does seem rather practiced at it. She finds she prefers Church's way of making things up off the top of his head. Such words are the product of a moment, and all the more cherished because of it.

"I do believe they would only stay open late if I jingled my coin purse in front of the door. But I was being facetious. No where is close to closing for the day yet." She takes the most direct route towards Hightown as she's a woman on a mission. She doesn't dawdle unless she has nothing to do.

"Things are well, I take it? You are still in one piece, and so I assume no disasters have befallen you since our last meeting?"

Kirk makes things up to! He is more of a gentleman than to use the same sweet words on more than one person. He is just more practiced at such things than Church, so his seem smoother rather than clunky. Like any skill, it is better with time and natural talent.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know, Christine," he said. "I merely meant to continue the joke." He had not thought her quite so literal a woman, but perhaps it was an off day. Or maybe this was how she acted as the 'lady' heading into the Hightown. Should be interesting.

"No, no disasters, though moving again so soon almost felt like one," he groaned. "The cats made that quite an interesting an ordeal. And you, milady? We haven't properly spoken since the experiment as I recall."

"And I merely meant to comment on the eagerness of shopkeeps to make money." Are they both satisfied as to the state of their own cleverness now? Good. Onwards and upwards, towards the scenic Hightown.

"I do not think I could own a cat. I hear they are quite difficult to train." Though it's possible that she doesn't like them because they're too much like her: willful and snooty. She, naturally, has no idea that that could be the reason.

Making an exasperated sound, she says, "I do recall telling you long ago that I am no lady. And I have been fine." She makes no mention of the duel, since she wants to put it behind her and apparently telling Araceli about it upsetting her was akin to grand treason and required she be talked down to like a child who didn't understand how her own world functioned. It makes Christine wary to mention it to anyone else. At this rate, Jim will give her a speech about how duels work on his world and how she has no right to be upset. Best to just avoid the whole thing.

Snooty for sure. But he supposed it was to be a little bit expected, and made her pairing with Church all the more amusing. But hey, they said opposites attracted, right? If there was ever a living embodiment of that...

"You'd have better luck training a rock to roll over," he agreed, but his tone is more fond than exasperated. For all that the cats did indeed cause their fair share of aggravation, he loved them. "Leonard makes for a fine walking companion, at least." When he was not escaping his lead.

He raised a brow at her over that. "Really? Because I distinctly recall some man with a two foot long stick up his rear calling you that a lot." The whole affair still made him shake his head, and while he was glad Church had won, he almost wished the man he had refused and backed Christine up instead. Not to say that he had not gotten any entertainment value of it. He absolutely had - almost wished he had popcorn.

Christine bristles slightly, much like an annoyed cat. "I did not give him permission to call me that either. The fact that someone does do it does not mean it is granted by me, nor that I wish them to." For a long time, Christine had no title at all. When she passed her Harrowing, there were already plenty of Enchanters in the Circle, so she wasn't elevated to that rank. She had been nothing, really, which was why she wished so desperately to leave and be a healer. Then she would be doing something beyond taking up space. But now, others know her as a Knight-Enchanter. It does have a certain lovely ring to it, and she much prefers it to people thinking she's someone who makes social calls for tea and gossip.

Kirk hadn't thought the term 'lady' as a matter of permission. It was a title, wasn't it? But he supposed even if you had one, there wasn't a rule saying you had to use it, was there? Not like he would know - he wasn't exactly rubbing elbows with the finer society folk.

"To be honest, I was waiting for you to just shove Church aside and give the guy a case of frost bite," he admitted. He laughed softly. "The look on his face would have been so much better if you had been the one to challenge him with your sword."

He didn't think it would have really taught the guy a lesson, but it would have certainly sent an interesting message.

"Yes, well, I was too late to intervene in that manner," she mutters, glad to see they're coming up to widening streets and stairs heading up towards the aptly named Hightown.

"Let us speak of something else. That whole situation is behind us now." She wants to say the whole situation was awful, but she'd rather not get into another argument about it.

"Like what's brought on this sudden desire for what I am assuming is, shall we say, racier underthings?" he asked, bringing them around to the purpose of their little jaunt.

He mounts the steps easily enough, a half-beat behind Christine in order to let her lead. His eyes flicker back and forth to see if anyone is concerned at all with his pants, odd by this world's standards (or so he thinks since he doesn't believe anyone has seen a zipper or denim before).

"Can a woman not simply wish to look her best?" she asks him, though her expression does defrost into something more friendly. Surely he can guess that she wants to look nice for her partner.

Her gaze shifts from him to their surroundings, the stones bright and white in the afternoon sun. There is no hiding that foolish forest where the Chantry once stood, but she averts her eyes so no one asks for her opinion on it. Any day she can rant about Anders is a good day, but she's tired of the attention he receives for his actions and in truth, she really doesn't care if a new Chantry is built on the location or not. Best to avoid the whole area before she's drawn into a discussion.

Angling herself away from the trees, she increases her pace to make it past.

"Having a home of my own means I can do laundry as often as I like. Why not buy more clothes?"

Kirk followed her gaze, seeing the forest but not quite understanding what was going there. He had thought he heard whispers of the Chantry, though if you asked him he would rather not see more of those places erected. As far as he could tell, the Chantry had not done much good for anyone in this world.

Oh, he could guess. He just wanted to see how much he could get her to admit.

"Are you and Church living together?" he asked curiously, lengthening his stride to keep up with her.

"We are, yes." Her face brightens at the subject. Having a home of her own means so much to her, even if it's in Kirkwall of all places. "And I have my dog, of course." How many months has she been calling this dog hers instead of her mother's? The little fluff ball has wiggled his way into her heart so easily. One could argue that Church has done the same, only he is covered in much less fluff.

"In Lowtown, but it is a clean, reasonable safe area."

"Oh. I hadn't realized you guys were that serious, but congrats," Kirk said, a happy warmth in his voice at the thought of two friends getting on so well and being so happy together. He did chuckle at the mention of the dog, clearly hearing its yap in the back of his head.

"Oh, same area as Sam and I," he nodded. "We're still working on getting it spruced up though." He almost sounded sheepish at this. Typical men, weren't they?

It takes her a moment to know how to respond to that, because being serious with Church was never the plan. Having fun with Church had been the plan, and remembering that the shard in his hand meant he could disappear at any moment had been the dose of hard reality she'd needed to keep him at arm's length. For a time, that had worked well enough, but time marched on, as it always does, and things changed somewhere along the line.

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Christine settles for that response. "I do know the feeling. The space is small and needs more personal touches. Perhaps we can have you both over for dinner someday when we buy more chairs for our table." Right now it's still rather sparse, and not fit to entertain in Christine's humble opinion.

"Only if you two agree to come to our home for the same," he insisted. "Though, as you said, maybe wait until we have things a bit more welcoming for guests." He shifted. "It's a new experience for me. I've never had such a large space to myself, and my loft in my own world came pre-decorated so I never had to think much about the design of it unless I wanted to add a few things. And my quarters on my ship is - well, it's a ship's quarters. Can put a few knick-knacks here and there, but that's about it."

It was terrifying, in a way. He cared for Sam deeply, but getting a home, decorating it like this? It was further than he had ever gone with anyone and some nights he found himself terrified of that.

"We might need a woman's touch on the place," he gave her an impish little grin.

It's less terrifying for her, but Christine has always longed for safety and security on her own terms; not the Templars'. Her own home with a door that locks is a welcome luxury now.

"I would be happy to give you my opinion. Shall we look for anything for your place today?" It doesn't have to all be about her quest for underwear. Christine is more than willing to help make Jim and Sam's place cozy too.

"If there is time after we have seen to your particular quest," he laughed, though it might be a good start. If there was someone who might know a good decoration for the home it would be Christine, he thought. "Speaking of - what shop are we going for?" he glanced around them, feeling somewhat out of place given his lower-grade garb, but then it was a good thing he hadn't much cared if he fit in today.

Hightown is high, but Christine assumes it's not that high. It's a rich place in a city brought low by war, so it's no where near as opulent as anywhere in Orlais, much less the rest of the Free Marches. Christine assumes they'll welcome any money they can get. Besides, their clientele must be dwindling. There is always talk of the mansions of Hightown being abandoned or passing hands quickly. No one wants to stay in Kirkwall longer than they have to.

"I believe it is over here," she stays, gesturing towards an open plaza with shops set up neatly in a square. Most have modest sized windows displaying bolts of fabric or fancy hats. Christine can't imagine a shop that sells underthings doing the same, so she wanders around the plaza, looking in the windows to get an idea.

"It will not have their goods on display like this. Perhaps a banner or sign instead?" It doesn't take long for her to spot a window display of flowers in vases and a sign speaking of "intimate clothing." "Ah, this must be it."

Kirk didn't blame them. There was a bit of an air about it, this oppression, shadows leering at every corner, just out of sight of the light. It didn't help with that statue along the damn wall, ominous and imposing and making his stomach twist every time he crossed its considerable shadow.

He followed placidly, realizing what she had said was right. In this world, those sorts of things wouldn't just be on mannequins and out for the world to see. There would certainly not be images of men and women and everything in between sporting them either. It was all hush, hush, like it was some create secret that everyone wore underthings.

"Ladies first," he said, stepping past her to get the door and open it for, bowing at the waist and sweeping his arm across his chest.

She shakes her head at his gallant actions, but is smiling all the same. Typical Kirk charm, right? Christine says, "Thank you," and steps inside the shop, where two women wait for customers.

"Good afternoon," the elder of the two says, looking Christine over. "How may we help you today?" The younger woman zeroes in on Jim, smiling sweetly and quickly checking to make sure her hair looks all right.

"Hello," Christine says, approaching the counter. "I was looking for something in lace? Or perhaps silk. Do you have something with both?"

The woman nods and takes some fabric samples from behind the counter for her to peruse. Meanwhile the younger woman sidles up to Jim.

"You two are together?" she asks, a pout on her lips.

Jim is hardly blind. He spots the younger woman preening and he cannot help but smile a little. Look, he tries to be a good man, but he's not without an ego, and who doesn't like having that stroked a little? Normally he would have full on begun flirting with her, but he was here on a mission with Christine, and he didn't need her giving a report back to Sam that he had been a less than stellar escort.

"I'm here to give my expert advice to my lovely companion," he said with that smile of his, moving a little closer to Christine and eyeing the materials. "Though I feel I might be outclassed by you two lovely ladies." This time a smile for the older woman.

Honestly, it just doesn't stop, does it? Christine smiles down at the samples, because here are two new people for Jim to butter up, and really, all that charm shouldn't go to waste. The woman behind the counter gives Jim the same once over she gave Christine, but her eyes focus mostly on his pants that don't seem to fasten shut the same way all the pants she's even seen do. Her brow furrows, but she refrains from commenting on it. Anything that detracts from a sale is a bad thing.

"Well, you're free to give your opinions, of course," says the woman. "I'm sure you'll find our materials to be of the highest quality."

Christine looks over the samples with a critical eye. She's never really stopped to consider the different patterns in lace before, but now that she's here about to pay good money for it, she wants something that looks nice, even if Church barely notices in his rush to rip them off her. Men.

"I know lace takes quite some time to create. These are very fine examples of it." And of course Christine knows that the more lacework there is, the more expensive the piece will be. "But silk is such a lovely texture. What do you think, Jim? Should I get a mostly silk piece with only a bit of lace? Maybe on the side or as trim?"

He couldn't quite tell if the once over was good or not, though he did notice her gaze lingered on his jeans. Good. He doubted it would cause an outright scandal despite his earlier declarations of doing so, but it snagged interest. Interest and charm meant they might be able to get a good price on the pieces. Christine deserve good quality and a good bargain. Kirk firmly believed the two were not mutually exclusive.

"Well, in my opinion, a lot of lace with a bit of silk in the right spots is far more alluring," he said. He would know, since he and Sam had a particular piece they enjoyed playing with sometimes. Not that he would say that aloud - Sam would never forgive him for letting Christine know, much less the strangers in this shop. "It's the tease of skin showing through a covering, you see. Though if you did go with a more silk piece, I would say perhaps a strip down the side and along the edges for trim."

What? He was opinionated, and you did ask for his opinion, Christine.

In response to Jim's opinion, the younger woman starts tugging at the collar of her dress, all hot and bothered. The elder is holding it together much better, but her hands are folded tightly on the countertop, skin white from the grip she'd exerting on all her fingers. Christine is pretty much used to such talk, not just from Jim, but from other members of the Inquisition who freely speak of these topics. She looks unfazed and thoughtful at what he's saying.

"True, true. Leave a little mystery, but show off plenty. Hmm." She touches a fingertip to the lace and cocks her head to one side. "What if I purchased one of each style? One with more lace and one with more silk."

It takes the shopkeep a moment to get her bearings, but then she nods along. "I would be happy to create two pieces for you."

Honestly, for people who were selling undergarments, they were getting far to flustered about it. It was underwear. Jim didn't see the big deal, but then he also came from a world where there was an entire fashion show every year very publicly televised about nothing but underwear.

"Do you make stockings too?" Jim asked the older woman, though he kept his gaze on Christine. "You could tease a man endlessly with a good stocking - thigh high?" He would be lying if he said he wasn't thinking of Christine in said stockings right now, and maybe someone else, but he was composed enough to keep that behind his own eyes and his teeth.

Well, how many attractive men enter their shop to talk about showing some skin? The answer is not many. Maybe a lecherous noble who wants some naughty things for one of his many mistresses, but that's the complete opposite of attractive, especially since those type of men look like a walking venereal disease. Jim is something rare and swoon worthy.

And even though Christine has grown used to his ways, even she has to smile demurely at his suggestion of stockings. She tends to wear linen stockings in warm months and wool in cold. Silk has always been far too fancy for her.

"We do, yes," the older woman says. "I would be happy to add them to your order."

It really is a tempting idea. Christine is picturing Church's face and the result has her nodding along. "I think I shall take a pair. Very good suggestion, Jim."

She's then ushered behind a privacy screen to have her measurements taken by the assistant while the shopkeep takes out some paper and a quill to take down the order. However, since Christine and the other woman are occupied, she leans over the counter a little, nodding at Jim's pants.

"Serah, may I ask where you purchased your trousers? I've never seen them cut and fastened in such a way." She's asking for fashion; not because she's drawn to his crotch. ...Much.

{ CLOSED }

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject