"Fi you whore, how can you put him in shit like this?" Tharis shouted once she got a better look at the clothes he was wearing, gesturing for him to stand in front of a three paned mirror. The sides were tilted inwards slightly so he could see his reflection at different angles. She circled disapprovingly while Fi made himself comfortable at a workbench. "Honestly, that boy is unbelievable. Has he really been letting you walk around like this?"
Levi stifled more laughter, “Yes, He has, but it’s honestly better than the filthy clothes I’d pissed myself in,” he snorted. “That was bad. But clean clothes that fit would be best.”
Tharis' face tightened minutely and she brushed some hair off her shoulder, bringing attention to the slim leather collar around her neck. It was a shade darker than her skin, blending into her neck almost perfectly until you gave it a closer look. "Yes, I suppose they would," She said briskly, stepping forward and pulling out a spooled sewing tape. "Hands up, I need to measure your waist."
Levi’s light expression suddenly fell into an empathetic frown, “Oh…you..” He held out his hands for her to measure. “I didn’t notice that before.”
"Most people don't." She wrapped the tape around his waist, tutting at the number before she did his chest and hips. "It's designed to be… covert. I'm a household slave, we try not to draw attention."
“Ah, I see..” he nodded slowly, “Are you able to keep the money you get from doing this..?” He believed she should; she did all the work, this was her job, right?
Tharis let him set down his arms, leaning over to see how long his legs were. "In some ways yes, in others no. The leather collar means I do skilled work. I'm given materials and allowed to spend the money of the regent, to a certain extent. I don't get a salary, nor am I formally employed."
“Oh..” he squinted. That wasn’t terrible, but still not fair. It still bothered him, but he let it go, and settled that he would never fully understand it. “May I ask where you’re from?”
"Arm." Tharis measured his arms, then his wrists and ankles before she set the tape down and gave him another inquisitive look, very obviously sizing him up. He'd look good in blue or grey. "And you may. I'm from the northerlands. We call it Leboea, but you call it… Agetus.
“Agetus,” he echoed, “I’m from the north too. Nord Widona.” He glanced back to her once she was finished with the measurements, “How do you survive the summers here?”
"Fi, mostly. He gets me ice, makes sure I have good fabrics and the like, always leaves little trinkets by my door to distract me but won't admit it because he's a huge dork." The last part was yelled loud enough for Fiori to hear, and she laughed when she heard his answering "Am not!"
“That’s so nice,” Levi chuckled, “Hopefully I’ll survive. Fiori seems like a good man.” Hopefully he would do the same things for him during the summers; with how Fiori treated him already, he assumed it would be a safe bet.
As he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in several days, he noted his drab appearance—especially his bloodshot, swollen eyes, the blisters from where his piercings hand been, and his generally sickly looking skin. His hair, however, looked very nice, thanks to Fiori.
Tharis crossed the room to grab some perspective fabrics, finally catching sight of Levi's hair when she turned to head back. It sent a pang of nostalgia through her, seeing the hair so carefully woven by Fiori's hands. "That's a nice braid you've got there, Leviticus. Did Fi get his hands on you?"
“Yeah, this is how I usually wear my hair, even at my home kingdom,” he replied, “Fiori helped me out with it this time. He even asked if he could practice on me.”
She did the strange, sharp, almost smile, one hand reaching out to run her hand over it wistfully. She ached fiercely for her queen, but Fi was almost as good. He was still young, still unused to the ways of the court, but he had the same aura as his mother. The same gentle grace. She shook her head, clearing it, and held up a sedate blue-grey silk to his chest. "Fi's always been a craftsman, though his father worked him into a warrior. Did you say yes?"
Levi affirmed her question before asking in return, “How long have you known Fiori?” He looked down at the fabric, inwardly deciding that he definitely liked that color. It reminded him of winter colors, especially the ice.
Tharis nodded approvingly at the fabric, setting it off to the side of their little fitting room. A richer blue would be good for bringing out his eyes, and a slightly tinted grey would be nice for coloring his skin tone a little. "I've known Fi since he was small. Smaller than I. I'm… 3 years older, I think- time still escapes me, the system here is strange- and I've known him since he was… eleven?"
“Oh wow,” he blinked, “That’s quite some time. Are you two very close?” He watched her set the fabric aside, and turned a question around in his mind, wondering if he should ask it or not. He lightly chewed his inner cheek while he thought.
Tharis left to grab a few more pieces of fabric- one sleek and black and made of some kind of silky material, one in a pretty cobalt blue- and held them up to Levi for a few seconds each before setting them aside. "He's like family to me," she said, voice fond. "I love him like a brother, though he doesn't always deserve it." She grabbed some threads, silver, blue, gold, and considered how they'd look against the fabric. "You have something you want to say," she noticed once she looked up again. "Spit it out, I don't have time for indecisiveness."
He shook his head, “You just answered my question, actually. No need to iterate it,” he dismissed and sought to change the subject, “I like that blue and black you held up.”
Tharis nodded approvingly. "You have a good eye, Leviticus. Those are my highest quality fabrics. I'll embroider them with silver roses once they've been made into pants and shirts and things. Oh! You do want shirts, right?"
"Of course I want shirts," he chuckled, "I don't see any reason why I wouldn't." He glanced behind himself where he assumed Fiori would be, but his vision was obscured y the curtain, "Firori didn't bother with one, though. That idea is so foreign to me."
Tharis laughed, a harsh strangled thing that could only be recognized as amusement because of the twinkle in her eye. "It's because he devoted himself to the god of war. It is custom for them to walk around in very little, even in their most ceremonial clothes, as a show of strength. You're a house slave, shirts are proper for you."
"Oh," his lip twitched in a forced smile. He preferred wearing shirts anyway, mostly for the sake of privacy, but now it just seemed like it would be a sour reminder of his current position. "That makes sense, I suppose. It makes no difference to me," he shrugged.
Tharis smacked his shoulder lightly. "Don't force a smile with me, brat." Her tone was teasing. "Just frown, you're free to be a curmudgeon in here. And anyways, it's not like slaves are the only ones who wear shirts. Most citizens do for comfort or preference."