New Attire For A New World

There was an earnest charm to Can-Mo’s temporary shop. A simple collection of fabrics hung tied around the entrance’s main crystal extrusion, while a small grouping of storage crates stood opposite in waiting. Somehow, his shop in The Underworld had carried more gravitas and identity. But still, Sayane found herself nearly bursting with excitement as she, Azag, Attis, and their guards approached the curved opening that afternoon.

Can-Mo’s first round of outfits had been perfect. He’d already made Sayane the regular clothing that had allowed her to shed her costume and fully transition into her new life there, then he’d made costumes for her tour to liberate the Great Harmony Shards. Sayane didn’t fully know what awaited her in this next iteration of her story, but she trusted that whatever came, she would at least look wonderful.

“Friends! Good afternoon!” Can-Mo cheered as he attempted to mount a makeshift curtain to the entry.

It immediately fell from its bracing and clanked onto the stone ground with a loud thud.

“Need help?” Azag asked.

“Oh, be a dear, would you?” Can-Mo asked as he lifted the rail to Azag’s hands.

“You both can go first; I’ll take care of this. Then… I guess I will… do this,” Azag sighed.

Sayane had noticed he was quiet in the walk over, and his tone in that moment felt almost unhappy. She wanted to say something, but a tentacle was already pulling her into the room. Before she could react, Azag was raising the rail to the doorway brackets, and Can-Mo was inspecting her attire.

“I fear all of my work has run its course,” he said as he released Sayane’s shawl.

“I tried to tend to them as best I could, but saving the world turned out to be a little challenging,” Sayane jested.

“Tragic,” Can-Mo smirked.

Attis hopped to a chair nearby and twirled in his fuchsia cloak.

“Your cloak made it this far!” Can-Mo clapped.

“I’d like to repair and keep this if possible. It was my partner’s favorite thing I wore,” Attis said as he observed the multitude of fabric and accessories that lined the deep recess.

“I will be as gentle as possible, old friend,” Can-Mo said as Attis removed the cloak and handed it to him.

Sayane noticed Azag was still lingering at the door. Just beyond him, dozens of curious followers and faithful were already gathered to watch the moment.

“Now, who would like to go first?” Can-Mo asked.

Sayane’s hand shot up without reserve.

Can-Mo smiled and bowed as his other tentacles rose, revealing he was already holding several samples of fabric.

“I was hoping you would say that!” he replied.

With that, the measuring began. Nothing had inherently changed, but Can-Mo’s notes were as thorough as ever. While his trunked eyes watched Sayane and the door, every tentacle was executing some separate task. One measured. One wrote. One cut. One stitched. Three selected different textiles and ornaments.

“Now, what is on your spirit, dear songstress? What do you wish for your clothes to say?” he asked.

“Say?” Sayane repeated.

“Yes! We are no longer simply surviving, Sayane. All of us. We can afford to express a little more vibrancy. Your clothes are a tool for you to communicate with the world. So, what would you like them to speak?”

The question intrigued Sayane. She’d planned to simply get beautiful new garments that would give her the comfort and style she wanted, but she hadn’t considered using them as messaging. As an idol, her group had never been big enough to have dramatic costumes or individual eras. But she was familiar with the concept. So she paused to think.

There was so much about this moment that spoke to her. Not just for herself, but for the world. They had overcome a major threat and were in the process of being reborn. The soil was still dead. She herself had already died and been reborn. All of these details conjured images, and Sayane realized she felt floral.

The world was coming out of a metaphorical winter, and it was time to bloom.

“Flowers. Blooming flowers,” she replied.

“Splendid!” Attis clapped in agreement.

“I want people to think about the way flowers die but are reborn. I want to keep your colors you already outfitted me in, but I’d like to add…”

Sayane blushed as she paused and looked to Azag, who was awkwardly engaging with the crowd at the door.

“...Blue. I’d like to add blue to the mix. So, bright purple. Pink and blue.”

Two tentacles took her hands in a soft embrace. Can-Mo smiled a kind, understanding smile.

“I can do that,” he said softly.

From there, Can-Mo began to sketch ideas. Iterations were presented to Sayane as dozens of options were considered. Once silhouettes were agreed upon, fabrics were selected. Ever the expert, Can-Mo proposed creating numerous pieces for different scenarios. Sayane was going to receive casual clothes for lounging, daily wear, formal wear, and travel pieces. Between the dozen or so outfits that were coming, she would be hard-pressed to face any scenario in which she wouldn’t have something to wear.

Within an hour, Can-Mo had formed several impressive mockups of flower-inspired outfits. Soft, breathable layers gave hints of petals. Draping sleeves flowed with feminine lightness. Sumptuous, vibrant colors blended in gorgeous gradients and accented the aspects of Sayane’s body she wanted while remaining functional. Accents of crystalline shapes and subtle neon lining tied everything back to the Ether’s embrace.

Occasionally, the crowd at the door would overhear a detail and clap in approval or whisper excited words of approval. At one point, Sayane held up two options of fabric to them for a vote. When consensus for a pink and blue ombre had been chosen, Sayane selected it, much to the audience’s joy. Even though the whole experience only lasted a brief moment, Sayane found herself wanting to spend the entire day imagining new pieces with her tailor.

Attis’s fitting was much simpler. From what Sayane gathered, his kind did not wear many clothing layers, so he was satisfied with a few new tunics, repairs to his cloak, and a few well-appointed cuffs that would go over his bare arms.

“I would like something to accent my eyepiece. I feel I need it more for sight these days, so I may as well adorn it,” Attis said.

Can-Mo offered a bejeweled chain that attached to the round eyepiece, and soon Attis was set.

It was finally Azag’s turn.

He was still at the door, with his back to the room.

“Azag, darling?” Sayane called.

She couldn’t hear the exhale, but she saw his shoulders drop in frustration as he glanced at the audience before turning to her.

“Can we-” he started before glancing over his shoulder at the crowd.

Sayane understood slightly- He didn’t want the numerous eyes on him as his body was discussed. Unfortunately, the lack of a door meant there was limited privacy. Can-Mo caught on and extended a tentacle to Azag.

“Don’t they have something else to look at?” Azag snarled beneath his breath.

There was an edge to his voice, but Sayane knew it wasn’t directed at the curious group of observers. He’d never liked being looked at. The Underworld had let him exist in the shadows and low light of secrecy. But now, he was in the spotlight. Sayane had trained for such things, and in so many ways had wanted it in her first life as an idol. And Attis was charismatic and charming, seemingly living in society for most of his life before becoming the official messenger for The Revolution. But Azag had not experienced any of that.

“I… have a backroom. Let us go there for your session, if you’d like,” Can-Mo offered.

Azag sighed, then nodded. His canes tapped out in the silence as he followed Can-Mo out of sight, and Sayane hesitated to follow. She wanted to be with him, but she feared it might make things worse.

“Poor lad,” Attis whispered.

“He… he really hates his body,” Sayane frowned.

That night in his tavern, he’d said that ‘some of us never made it out of the self-loathing period,’ and Sayane wondered if that was still the case. Beyond what The Silence had done to him, he was also disabled to some degree, which had led to his kind abandoning him. Carrying so many different issues would put a burden on anyone’s mind. Sayane hoped her embracing of the spotlight didn’t put him in too many difficult spots. Beside her, Attis’s tail tapped on the chair as he watched the door.

“How badly is he deformed?” Sayane asked.

Attis scratched his chin.

“I… I’ve only ever seen… two Rabal- from afar. They were quite reclusive in the latter years after so much stigma against them. So I don’t know too well. But… it is quite bad. His back, for instance. Those jutting bones. Those are supposed to be aligned, down his spine. They were a single fin on the others. Similar to his head crown. That, plus his legs are bent out of alignment, and his snout is short. It would be a lot to be comfortable with.”

All of this new information painted Azag in an even more complex picture. He never spoke about his body, and Sayane wondered if she should have asked more. It was just another aspect of this world she still needed to learn more about. There was a rustling noise from the backroom, and a moment later, Can-Mo quietly slid out with a cautious look on his face.

“He… needs a moment,” Can-Mo said in a quiet tone.

Sayane rose quickly, but Attis’s paw touched her arm to calm her.

“Let him be for a moment. It’s okay,” Attis said.

Sayane glanced at the doorway, then to the gathered crowd. She wanted to rush to check on Azag, but in her heart, she sensed that Attis was probably correct.

“Sometimes we just need a moment to ourselves. Give him a minute to calm, then go back,” Attis said.

“Did something happen?” Sayane asked.

Can-Mo shook his massive head.

“He was removing his tunic. I asked if he’d ever worn formal clothes, or if he knew how his people dressed for important occasions.”

Knowing how his people had abandoned him, Sayane understood that such a question might trigger him.

“I don’t think he knows much about his people. They left him to die when he was little,” was all she said.

“The Path of Sorrow,” Attis added.

Once again, Sayane didn’t know what they were alluding to, but Can-Mo did. Can-Mo’s tentacles fidgeted in embarrassment.

“I didn’t know,” he said softly.

Voices drifted behind them. The crowd had begun to shift forward for a look at whatever was occurring. The shop suddenly felt much smaller. Attis looked at the gathering and forced a smile.

“Well, Sayane the Songstress Supreme and Azag the Great Guardian already have their multitudes of fans. Attis the Hopeful Herald still needs to cultivate public awareness! Perhaps I shall go speak with our followers over there, and maybe even guide them away from the entrance?” he said with a wink.

Sayane squeezed his paw in appreciation. After he hopped down from the chair, he turned back to the doorway to glance towards Azag.

“He’ll be okay, dear child.”

With that, Attis made his way to the gasping crowd.

“Greetings, my beautiful comrades and new friends! I was going to review more shops and artisans, with my guard Miux, of course. Care to join?” he asked as he trotted out the door.

Almost immediately, most of the crowd began to follow as excitement rose at the chance of speaking with a member of the Trine Sovereign. Once they’d departed, Sayane and Can-Mo were all but alone with Azag. Now, Sayane felt comfortable approaching.

Behind the rows of fabric and crates of stored goods, the wall curved to reveal a deepened, glowing vault. Temporary cabling hung from the walls and ceiling, and a simple workdesk held dozens of tools and measuring bands. Azag was in the center of the room, back to the door, hand to his face. Sayane slowly entered and saw his tunic was only partially removed, as though he had started to redress himself before stopping. Even from afar, Sayane could see the seething rage simmering just below his surface.

Azag heard her enter and took a deep breath.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said in a forlorn voice.

“There is nothing to be sorry for, Azag,” Sayane said.

His entire presence felt on edge and defeated. Even when Sayane neared, he wouldn’t face her.

“Azag, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” Sayane said.

All he could do was shake his head.

“...How did you get over hating yourself? That night at the waterfall?” he asked.

It was what Sayane had feared to be true. Even after everything he’d done, and all of the wondrous, heroic, gentle, and kind things he had done for her and the rest of the world, he still felt horrendous and humiliated at himself. When he was in the Underworld, he was able to deflect and be cold, even when people were looking at him. That had probably made it easier to tolerate himself. Now, he was under the prying gaze of thousands at any moment. It was a lot for anyone, much less someone who had despised themselves for decades.

“I had you and Attis. And… I had to believe that hating myself and hating music couldn’t be the end of me. I had wound up in this world, and I had to believe there was a reason for that. And you gave me the space to find that reason. Even when it was horrifying, and uncertain, and overwhelming. You were both always there.”

Her hand reached for his arm, then paused.

“Can I touch you?” she asked.

He nodded.

“I want to give that space to you. I’m sorry it’s a lot,” she said as her palm met one of the bent spikes that rose from his back.

Knowing she was saying more with her touch and where she was touching him, Azag finally turned to face her. His mask was still on, hiding his radiant eyes. But Sayane could sense sadness in his blank face.

“I spent so many years wanting them to trust me and not hate me. Now, it’s here, and I’m overwhelmed,” he sighed.

Sayane nodded and slowly touched her chest.

“Oooooooohhhhh, oooooooooohhh ohhhhh oooooohhhhhh,” she hummed.

Gentleness flowed from her to him, and she saw the tension in his shoulders dissipate. His hand found hers and they stood alone in the ebbing green and violet light.

“There is no me without you,” he whispered.

“There is no me without you,” she repeated.

A soft tap on the door alerted them that Can-Mo had joined.

“Azag, the crowd is gone. Do you wish to continue, dear?” Can-Mo asked.

Azag slid his tunic back from his shoulder, revealing his scarred, veined chest once again.

“Forgive me, Can-Mo,” he said.

“Nothing to forgive, Great one,” Can-Mo replied as he slowly raised the measuring tape.

“I was thinking, you do not like eyes on you, so your attire needn’t be elaborate or flashy. I can adorn you in dignity and splendor that is still subtle. Dark, rich colors. Deep, strong blues and earthen tones. Crisp whites for formal events. Nothing grandiose, but grand nonetheless,” Can-Mo said in a calming, de-escalating voice.

Measuring bands moved in silent, patient focus. Tentacles drifted to a fro with quiet ease. Azag’s hand stayed holding Sayane’s wrist, and she would occasionally feel it tremble.

“Is there anything you wish to cover? I will find a way to do so if there is,” Can-Mo said softly.

“Well, I would say everything, but I doubt you wish to throw a sheet over me and call it a day,” Azag said in an attempt at humor.

Can-Mo chuckled.

“A big, strong lad like yourself can’t be hidden away like that.”

Sayane nodded aggressively.

“I just don’t know what to do with my back,” Azag admitted.

Can-Mo paused to observe Azag’s form, sliding around to be behind him as he looked at the many opposing points of harsh bone and fiber that pointed out in different directions.

“You have a smoothed part here over your right shoulder, where you usually wear your tunic strap. We could keep that styling, leaving your left chest open and exposed. Then maybe some manner of bound sleeve starting at the upper point of your left arm.”

“That wouldn’t look unrefined?” Azag asked.

Can-Mo shook his head.

“In my world, we had archers called Kyūdō. They were very traditional, dignified, and beautiful. And they would have their left chest and arm exposed when performing. Oh, you’d look so handsome like that!” Sayane clapped.

“And, along with new trousers to go beneath your braces, I’ll fit some skirting to layer over. That, along with the tops, will keep much of your bracing covered.”

“I struggle with long things. Tripping…” Azag explained.

“Sayane can attest- I will not give you anything that will ensnare you.”

Sayane pointed at her skirt in approval.

“I have danced, jumped, run, dove, and twirled. No tripping.”

Azag thought it over, then nodded.

“If anyone can make me not look horrendous, it’s you, Can-Mo.”

To Sayane’s surprise, Can-Mo didn’t laugh or receive the compliment. Instead, a tentacle rose to meet Azag’s masked chin, then slowly lifted it. For a brief moment, Can-Mo’s face was stern and paternal as he forced Azag fully upright.

“You are not horrendous. You are Azag The Great Guardian. And damnation upon any who dare mock you ever again,” Can-Mo said in a serious, kind tone.

“Agreed!” Sayane said.

A few more measurements and notes were taken, then the exercise was complete. Attis returned in near-perfect timing, still followed by an even larger crowd. As to be expected, he was laughing and chatting with dozens as they made their way back to the shop.

“Attis has never met a stranger, has he?” Azag said as he braced himself for the horde.

His hand took Sayane’s once again, and he led her to the doorway. She watched in silence as he bowed to several onlookers and dared to speak to a nearby family. In that moment, he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.