(1311-11-29) Taking Measurements
Summary: A Skaldi meets a seamstress and gets measured for new clothes.
RL Date: Fri Nov 29, 2019
Related: None
tancred jeanne 

l'Aiguille Inspirée — Grand Plaza

Fine and tidy is the shop, a gifted tailor and his apprentice have set up at the grand plaza of Marsilikos. The interior is kept in lighter tones, with birch wood floors that are covered with the occasional carpet here and a runner there. A pair of tall windows provide plentiful lighting during the day, illuminating a dark mahogany desk with a few drafts of designs scattered upon it. Catching the eye upon entering are two stately dresses fitted upon tailor dummies, elaborate bodices with shimmering embroideries, impressive classy necklines and wicked variations of sleeves that leave shoulders bare. Long skirts that tend to bunch up seem to be this season's fashion, often coming in layers with the upper layer slitted at the front to sport a differing shade and pattern.

A dress form where clothes are fitted upon stands in one corner beside a fitting area, behind a drape that can be drawn, and a pair of two tall wardrobes facing each other are in an area towards the back. A chest with a number of colorful ribbons and other accessories is located beside a table where various rolls of fabrics are piling upon, qualities ranging from rough cotton to linen and more finely spun materials. There are rolls of silk in various shades, damask, samite and brocade, along with various patterns of lace in different hues. A door at the back stands most often ajar and leads to the adjoining sewing room, the place where the newest oeuvres of fashion are created

A new tailor shop had opened its doors to the public a few days ago. And as it is, with new places, potential customers came in waves, and these waves were as of yet scarce. As it is on this late fall morning, there are only two people at the front part of the shop, the tailor and his seamstress. The former is a man in his late forties, with dark hair that looks slightly dishevelled. The latter a young woman in her very early twenties. There is a touch of foreigner blood to her looks, even if she has the distinctive fine features of d'Angeline heritage. Dark hair has been pulled back into an orderly do, and there is a hint of soap lingering in the air about her. Dark green is the long-sleeved dress she wears, befitting a commoner and especially a seamstress. She and Monsieur Chevalier are adjusting one of the dress dummies, and more importantly, draping a fine dress upon the form.

While not exactly the preferred clientele, someone like Tancred certainly has more reason to hang around the square and the markets than the ducal palaces. He wears no steel today, only a simple (if well-tailored) jack over a stout tunic, work trousers, and boots of modest height. In all, the Skaldi is the picture of your middle-class freeman, save for the addition of a hefty sword on his left hip, hanging off his belt. He's bulkier lately - and barbate - stopping by the shop to look and see if there's anything fancy he might actually afford.

<FS3> Jeanne rolls Composure: Great Success. (7 7 4 5 2 8 7)

The door opens and a potential customer enters, and so the young seamstress and the tailor interrupt their current task of outfitting the dress dummy. While the tailor steps forth, the seamstress hangs at the back a little, hands clasped before her, staying near enough and in earshot, in case her services are needed.

"Good morning to you, Monsieur, and welcome to l'Aiguille Inspirée. I'm Monsieur Chevalier and this is my shop," the tailor greets, rubbing his hands before he gestures towards a number of garments on display. "Have a look around. Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Good morning. I…" Tancred, a little slow to converse with in general, pauses to look over the seamstress aiding the tailor. While his expression doesn't change, it takes him a few seconds to get back on track. But perhaps they'll think he's merely checking out 'the goods'. "I wish to know of what fashions you cater for, for men such as myself," he continues in his Skaldi accent.

"We have garments suitable for the highest nobility," Monsieur Chevalier points out with a friendly smile. "But we have also clothes that should be affordable, for one such as you, Monsieur. We have shirts of linen, breeches of wool. It is getting colder, we are moving towards winter… Jeanne!" The latter snapped at the seamstress who takes a step forward and lowers her head in greeting. "Would you show Monsieur some of the trousers we have on offer. Or perhaps, he would have one tailor made. Which would be a little more costly."

"Monsieur?", Jeanne inquires, lifting her gaze to regard the Skaldi. "I am not sure we have anything in your size but… I can show you affordable fabric and take your measurements. Monsieur will come up with a calculation." Monsieur, in this case, referring to the tailor, as she indicates him with a tilt of her head.

"Yes, that will suffice. I wish for a pair of trousers, with give and tailored fit, for work and show both." Pretty much like what he's got on, but of higher quality. Tancred inclines his head, taking the sword off his belt since it'll get in the way, but leaving the belt on because he needs it. "A hood, perhaps, to match its color as well." He tips his head to Jeanne, closing in towards her so she can lead him off to get measured.

"Fine then." Monsieur Chevalier nods his head, shooing Tancred and Jeanne off to the room at the back, as there are new potential customers arriving — these, apparently of higher station and with a fuller purse than Tancred most probably calls his own.

Jeanne, meanwhile leads the way. "A pair of trousers, she repeats, opening the door fully to the adjoining chamber, a sewing room of sorts. Waiting for him to step into the room, she will close the door behind them. "Monsieur Chevalier is a bit nervous," she points out, walking through the room towards a table where there are samples of fabric piled upon. "The place is still quite new, but we have already some work commissioned." Turning to regard the tall Skaldi, she allows a smile to show on her features. "Now… Monsieur… Do you want me to show you some sample trousers? Or shall we speak about the fabrics first? The colors…" She considers. "Yellow and red? Or something less colorful?"

"I would prefer red, or blue." Tancred follows into the sewing room, stooping a little, then seems to relax just slightly as the door shuts. Perhaps he feels no need to linger around unknown bluebloods. He does take his sword with him, but places it on the nearest table with space. He bends over by the fabric samples, gloves removed to get the texture of each. "A strong fabric, but not too rough." He gestures to his choice, takes a step back, and looks at Jeanne. His calloused palm comes to stroke briefly over her nape. "I think this trade suits you."

"Dark blue linen?", Jeanne suggests, standing beside Tancred as he inspects the various kinds of fabric. There is a flicker in her dark eyes, in reaction to his touch. But Jeanne does not waver, nor does she shy away. "Thank you.", the seamstress responds instead. "One has to move on. At least I had to." She steps away from him, collecting the sample he chose. "I suppose, your situation hasn't changed? You are still working for House Baphinol?"

"Yes. They afford me many benefits, and the Baroness treats me well. I do not have good reason not to." For the time being, Tancred might add, though perhaps there's a smidge of house loyalty snuck in there. As she slips away to work, he moves to an empty space to get measured, taking off his jack so that a measurement of his upper half may be more accurate. "Measure all of me. I may get a shirt to match, I think, of lighter cloth."

"A white shirt? A light blue, perhaps?", Jeanne wonders, putting the fabric sample down on a work table. "I would suggest… a vest of the same dark blue as this, to wear on top of it." She walks over to take the measurements, starting with the torso, wrapping a long ribbon around his chest. After noting down the measurements on a piece of parchment, she continues with his shoulders and arms. The midriff. "So you will stay in Marsilikos, hmm? No wish, to return home?", Jeanne asks lightly.

"A white shirt, with a blue jacket, or vest. A hat of sorts to match, though I do not know if you will make those as well." Hatmaking is often a separate trade, after all. Tancred is a good lil' client, easily bent and complying with each measurement that has to be made, even if the majority of them are well past the standard. As she comes down to measure around his comparatively lean middle, he gives her a gentle pinch in the cheek, almost fond. Even so, his words are low. "It is difficult for me to return home. In a way, I am foreign now to both lands. Should there ever be peace, or a cease, I may have the chance, but more and more I become more like your people." Not in looks, though.

Jeanne listens, pausing when Tancred replies to her with his voice low. She smiles at the pinch to her cheek, a momentary lapse in her facade of a seamstress. "As long as you have a good life here… Why return?", she asks. Attention turns to the measurements, and now the legs are up next, their length and the circumference of thighs. It seems only natural that Jeanne moves to kneel, and there is a quick probing glance she gives the tall Skald from her current position. "This will take a lot of fabric to complete," Jeanne states with a slight smirk. "And depending on whether you'd like anything fancy in addition, this might get a bit costly."

"You may be right," supposes Tancred, though he's not entirely convinced. Still, as she kneels, he looks down and tilts his head just slightly; in that instant, they share that probing glance. He raises his hand to give her a playful bump on the tip of her nose, followed by a quick brush of that digit over her lower lip. "I could afford you," he reminds her, tone a bit light. "The House will pay for some of my expenses, but I am paid enough for some trousers at least. Though I will not have cloth-of-gold with it, no."

"Could you?" She grins a little at that. "The trousers, shirt and vest will be definitely affordable, but more costly than would you have paid for your last set of attire. No cloth-of-gold, of course. But perhaps a bit of light blue trimming at the hems.", she suggests. "I am but a seamstress. Monsieur Chevalier will make the calculations, and then he can name you a price." Ignoring the other topic lingering between them, or at least not going into that.

"And heavier stitches." Tancred seems satisfied with these terms and conditions besides, lowering his arms and planting his feet back to a neutral stance after she's done getting the thickness of his calf and ankle. "I think I will miss us meeting elsewhere - even if this is better. I wish to know how you made it."

"Heavier stitches," Jeanne confirms, moving to stand in a fluid motion that only hints at many years of training. "That," she continues, lowering her gaze, "is no longer part of my way of life. I wanted to move on, and here I am. All it took was opportunity… and I heard of a tailor seeking employees. I put on the most respectable dress in my possession and paid him a visit. Giving a demonstration of my sewing skills. He was content with what he saw, and so I was hired as a seamstress."

"And what say the mistress of your old workplace?" Tancred takes a step to the side, finding a stool to rest his behind on, soles and legs a little achey still from the morning ride. He cradles his chin in hand, looking relaxed. "Certainly you will earn less here, but it is good work, without sailors pawing at you."

"I have explained it to her, and taken my leave. I've paid her most of what I had, as recompensation for me departing. The Madame understands. Even if she was a little disappointed at my decision.", Jeanne replies, her gaze following Tancred as he steps aside. "It is good work, yes. And Monsieur Chevalier is kind. I do not miss my old life." Even so, she bites her lip, considering Tancred as he sits on the stool.

"She would miss her only girl with all her teeth." Tancred sounds like he's joking for one as he relaxes against the table, though the bit-lip look she grants him has him tilt his head. He beckons gently with one hand. "Come, sit. While your master is busy - they are now arguing over whether capes are the fashion of the day, no doubt."

"Probably.", Jeanne agrees with a light chuckle. She raises her hand and brushes over her hair, making sure she still looks all properly. To his request, she shakes her head, dark eyes flickering as she looks around the sewing chamber. "No. Not here. Not now. We are done, Monsieur Tancred. But I suppose there might be an opportunity to meet. Elsewhere. One of these days."

"As you say." Tancred doesn't seem displeased; he appears to have been expecting it, though he stays seated a while longer to nurse a bit of calf soreness. "I often visit the inns nearby. If you will end early this day, perhaps you might find me later." Then he arses himself into standing.

Jeanne remains standing, her hands neatly folded before her. Inclining her head to his words as Tancred seems about ready to depart. "I cannot tell as of yet, but if Monsieur Chevalier dismisses me earlier, I will see what I can do." Said, as she moves over to the door and opens it, lowering her gaze at once as she steps aside to allow Tancred to pass. "Thank you, Monsieur. I believe you can come by in a few days, about the calculation of the price. As soon as Monsieur Chevalier gets to it." Offering a light curtsey to the departing Skaldi, her gaze sweeps to the front area of the shop, towards the tailor and the pair of customers he is in conversation with.

"Aye," replies Tancred, dipping his head to the master as he passes him. "Then I will be back then." After a pause, the Skaldi says nothing more and moves through to exit the shop fully.

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