Closed RP Wolf in Shiek Clothing

[Fang]

The shopping district was busy, as it usually was in the early evening. While some shoppers walked leisurely along the streets and ogled through panes of glass at the glittering temptations others hurried toward their destinations with the self importance afforded those with missions to achieve. Here and there an enterprising cafè offered rest for those simply walking the streets and fuel to those driven by their needs, though one establishment in particular hosted a peculiar subject to the juxtaposed consumers that congested the sidewalks beyond its gated patio.



Nat sipped at his tea halfheartedly, ball cap pulled low to hide his features. He wasn’t particularly worried that someone might recognize him from his secret life after dark; his face was hidden more often than not and wouldn’t be immediately recognizable. No, the threat of recognition came from those passerby with heavy wallets, fine clothes and sights gracefully set on the higher-end, better known establishments. Certainly not of the kind Nat had been observing quietly since the afternoon.



The rumors weren’t hard to come by, likely placed deliberately to foster the clientele that the proprietor was searching for. Over the course of a few hours Dual Flame Outfitters had seen barely a handful of people open its doors despite the traffic around it. It was positioned well enough, and though its wares might have seemed a little odd in modern society they were displayed with an eye for drawing attention. From what Nat had seen none of the rare customers left with any of the goods that were offered, and it could have been assumed that it was merely a store of curiosities for the affluential.



Of course rumor said there was a different sort of power at work in their customer base.



The sun was setting low when Nat finally left the cafè and wandered to the store in question. Besides the ball cap he had dressed simply in blue jeans and a plain black tee beneath a navy windbreaker. A leather shoulder bag held the proverbial ace up his sleeve, tucked behind him protectively as he pushed open the shop’s door and greeted the elderly woman behind the counter with a smile and a wave.



”Glad to see you guys are still open!”

 

[HighVoltage]

Myrna missed her forge. She didn’t mind manning the counter and keeping an eye on the store, but her true place was by the bellows, a hammer in one hand and a piece of red-hot steel in the other. But Florian was having her personal time with the duplicates, the “shift change” as she cheerfully called it. Myrna knew she was really up in their apartment, sharing tea with Flo and Rei, the latter filling the former in on the events of the day. She could’ve just absorbed Rei and then manifested Flo, but her wife had told her that she preferred it this way.

So while she did that, Myrna was on desk duty. Even though she didn’t say it out loud, she knew that Florian tried to be the one to interact with customers and clients as much as possible. It wasn’t that Myrna didn’t have good customer service skills, it’s just that most customers weren’t good enough for her service. She preferred being in the back anyways with the heat, the noise, and the sparks.

But she had to keep herself busy or she’d go insane. So she was doing inventory. Enough hoodlums came into the store and swung her weapons around, despite the many posted signs that they were very sharp, and ended up banging them together, nicking the blades and just being general nuisances. So she wasn’t exactly behind the desk, but she had an eye on it. The other was focused on her blades, ensuring they were straight and the edge was smooth. She let out a sigh as she made her way back to the counter, setting the chipped kukri onto its smooth surface. Gods she wanted a cigarette right now.

The door chimed as someone entered. Myrna looked up, her red-orange eyes taking stock of the new customer. There wasn’t much to look at, in her opinion. He wasn’t a twig, but didn’t have some of the bulk on him that meant he was looking for an ego weapon. Little miracles and all that. Myrna hated when people just wanted the biggest hammer, axe, or sword she had with no regards to the design, weight, or balance.

“Mhm.” Myrna brushed his chipper comment off the desk and onto the floor. “Welcome to Dual Flame. What can I do for you?”

 

[Fang]

The interior of the shop was almost exactly as Nat had expected, which was to say that it defied modern expectations for the most part. Medieval weaponry to one side, and handmade clothing on the other while between a conjunction of the two gave a sense of timelessness to the place; as though he had stepped backward in time though the stylization of the works remained suited toward modern tastes. His appreciative eye swept over the weapons particularly, noting the craftsmanship in the steel as only he could. The grey-skinned woman who gave reply was readily identifiable as another meta-human, and lent credence to the rumors Nat had so easily found.



”I was hoping you might be able to help me with an outfitting problem.” Nat’s reply lost none if its cheer in the face of the lady’s apathy. ”Heard around town this was the place to go.” Nat nudged the pommel of a particularly large sword as he passed, his power restrained so no ripple would cross the surface of the steel. A lot of time had gone into the blade, folded and hammered diligently to produce a shining example of the artisan’s love of their work. He frowned slightly at the idea of so much effort hanging on a wall for its lifetime.



As he approached the desk Nat set his shoulder bag on the wooden surface, a substantial thump indicating the weight of its contents. For a moment he shifted the bag, aligning it with the edge of the desk so that it was neatly placed on the corner closest to him. Satisfied with its placement he folded his hands next to the pack and met his elder’s gaze stoically.



”I have a few ideas, but would like to access your skills for something new.”

 

[HighVoltage]

“Clothing is my wife’s specialty, not mine.” Myrna raised an eyebrow as she took another look at the kid. Because he was a kid, at least to her eyes. She couldn’t get a proper bead on him, whether he was metahuman or not. If he was, she couldn’t even be sure whether he was a hero or a villain. Cheerfulness was not the indicator of one’s alignment, her wife was a reminder of that. The way he spoke about their shop, plus the hour of his visit, made it seem like he was most likely one of their “unique” clientele.

Myrna let out a hmph as he set down his bag of something heavy. Her curiosity was piqued, slightly. Outfitted could mean weaponry, and that was her specialty. But a person who came to her with ideas was worth about as much as using a rubber mallet as a forge hammer, especially if his ideas were shit.

“She’s on her break right now, but I can field ideas. What’ve you got?” She eyed the bag suspiciously. “What’s in the bag?”

 

[Fang]

Nat’s wolfish grin spoke volumes once the lady mentioned the bag, and he leaned onto one elbow on top of it protectively with his reply.



”So that means you make the weapons, then?” Stepping around the question he gestured with his free arm toward the weapons he had passed on his way to the desk. ”My family’s roots are in the forge, actually. I couldn’t help but notice the quality of your work.”



A half truth, he supposed, given his grandfather rarely forged so much as a kitchen knife and his father would never even consider the idea. He had been taught from their family stories, and from his grandfather’s ramblings with breakfast or dinner. Of course whatever he lacked in experience was made up for as the Wolf.



”Is there somewhere more private we could discuss this?” Nat glanced around and shouldered the bag again as he straightened. ”I am willing to pay extra for any added measures of… discretion you are willing to employ. Up front, of course.” He may not have been the businessman that his father wanted him to be, but Nat knew the language well enough. Sometimes the idea of a number was more than enough to start negotiations on the right note.

 

[HighVoltage]

“What gave it away, kid?” Myrna scoffed. “The apron or the fact that I could probably throw you out by the scruff of your neck?” Truth be told she felt a bit of pride swell in her as he complimented her work. It wasn’t much more than the ‘sick work, dude’ she got from most teens today in terms of substance, but there was that extra bit of deference in it that made it worth more to her.

“No need for payment yet, we like to discuss designs first.” The older woman reached under the counter, fingers brushing past a strung crossbow and a simple hatchet to press against the button embedded in the underside that would let her wife know they had a metahuman client. While normal business had been steady, she knew making costumes for criminals and vigilantes was her wife’s true passion, so she'd probably be down before her tea was even ready. “Follow me.”

“Couple of disclaimers, kid.” Myrna began as she led him to the back room they used for these sorts of conversations. It was comfortable enough, Florian had seen to that. There were several chairs of varying levels of plushness, as well as a handful of side tables. A larger table sat in the middle, well-worn from use, and it served as the center for their discussion. Myrna noticed that at some point one of them had replenished the little coffee and tea cart they’d insisted on having. She’d been against it, but when your wife could make any discussion three against one, you learned to concede pretty quickly.

“First, we don’t care what side of the law you’re on, just don’t tell us. Plausible deniability and all that.” She checked to confirm the filter already had grounds in it (of course it did, because her wife was a saint) and began brewing a pot of coffee. The midnight-black liquid slowly began to fill the carafe as she turned back to her guest.

“Second, we’re gonna need a way to contact you, let you know your stuff is ready or if we need you to come back in. If it’s a costume, Florian almost certainly will want a fitting. And third,” At this point Myrna’s blazing eyes locked firmly onto the kid’s.

“If you do anything to hurt me or my wife, I will make sure whatever happens to you is ten times worse.” Her voice roughened, the old habit of making threats coming easy to her. She picked up the carafe as the coffee maker ended its brewing with a wheezing gasp, filling up a mug decorated with pastel flowers. She flicked on the electric kettle before settling in chair, taking a sip of the scalding, bitter liquid.

“You want anything?” Florian would have given her hell if she’d forgotten to ask. Even if she didn’t really care.

 

[Katpride]

Florian supposed that it was somewhat inevitable that she would become the sort of little old lady who enjoyed talking to herself. It was an easy thing to fall into, when that self could hold their own end of the conversation.

She was still fascinated by the little quirks that her duplicates adopted - they each had their own affectations, perhaps in an effort to express some amount of individuality when they were all tied to the same mind and body. Flo liked to play at sharpness, always watching and calculating. Rei just liked to play, always quick with a joke or a bit of harmless fun. Ian, when she’d been around, had always been the first to volunteer for missions she wouldn’t come back from. Secrets were hard to keep, when they were all the same person. Ian had liked secrets, and liked to let them fade away.

Florian missed her, sometimes. But it was out of her hands now. Perhaps it always had been. Regardless, it was best to obey the limits of her body. Their body. If she pushed herself too hard, all of them would feel it.

She sipped at her tea, startling softly when she realized she had finished the cup. Flo was looking at her, but she smiled, waving the concern away. “Oh, I’m alright. I was just thinking about Ian.”

“May she rest in infamy,” Rei said, a fond laugh in her voice as she raised her own teacup. Florian raised hers as well, although she had no liquid in it to honor the toast.

It was then that a soft chime rang through the apartment. It took Florian a moment to place the sound - it wasn’t the doorbell, or the shop’s bell, or the panic alarm. Oh! How silly of her, it was an alarm she’d rigged up herself not too long ago. But that must mean…

“Oho, it sounds like we’ve got another one!” Rei was smiling ear to ear. Florian found herself mirroring the expression, and even Flo seemed pleased. “Well, duty calls.”

Her duplicate finished the rest of her tea and stood, reaching over the table to clasp Florian’s arm. Her form shimmered softly as she held the contact, and Florian reached over to pat her hand. “I’ll see you in the morning, Rei.”

“Not if I see you first!” The shimmers grew, until she was more sparkle than woman, and then fell apart, falling onto Florian like a light rain. She didn’t worry about catching all of them - they were drawn to her skin, they would find a way to her eventually, as long as she was in the area.

“I’ll watch the shop,” Flo volunteered, already halfway to the sink with their empty cups. Florian didn’t gainsay her, only giving her a nod and leaving her to it. Flo had been the one to attend to the last vigilante, after all. Now it was Florian’s turn to work on her pet project.

Her footsteps were soft as she made her way down the hallway that led to the consultation room. It was an old, old habit, one she’d never quite broken. Myrna still threatened to put a bell on her, sometimes, when she startled her wife especially badly, but she hadn’t been burned by molten metal in ages. Not since she’d installed a motion detector on the entrance to the forge, anyways. It was all in good fun.

Pausing just out of sight of the door, Florian took a moment to listen in. She hadn’t really planned for Myrna to be the main contact for their extra-legal clients, but she was pleased to hear her outlining the rules that Florian had briefed her on. With… some embellishments, and her usual gruff manner, but mostly according to plan!

Balancing her platter on one hand, Florian rapped her knuckles on the door twice and then carefully levered it open. Her voice preceded her, as she figured it would be safer not to startle the people within. “Hello! Apologies for interrupting, but I heard we had a client.”

She stepped inside, then, making sure that her platter of cookies would be the first thing they saw. First impressions were everything.

“I brought cookies,” she explained, needlessly, closing the door behind her. She crossed to the table and set the platter there, then took a cookie for herself and went to sit on the arm of her wife’s chair.

“Are you in the market for a new suit? Or perhaps repairs to an old one?” Her smile was kind, calm. He did look rather young, to be running around doing - or foiling, perhaps, she couldn’t be sure - crimes, but then again more and more people seemed young to her, these days. It wasn’t an immediate disqualifier.