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[A Model's Reflections - Crimes Against Nature Part Three]
The Boarding House Beneath Lea's Branches. It was a quiet spot, serene almost. The sort of lodgings one just expects when staying in Gridania. Away from the hustle and bustle of all the adventurers at the Canopy. Ensconced amidst nature's beauty with the sound of a babbling brook meandering its way behind the carefully landscaped property. The eponymous Lea is a gentle and attendant hostess. Tea was served every afternoon, and the meals were ever as delicious and fresh as they were memorable.Â
So far everything had been as near perfect as a girl could hope for. Monsieur Vann had hired Aya, but her work so far had consisted of little beyond enjoying herself in the peace-and-quiet of Gridania at her employer's expense. So, it came as something between disappointment and exciting shock when a visitor arrived for her at near 9 bells one morning.Â
She had asked Lea to attempt delay, but the gentleman's was both polite and clear: "Whatever the miss' state, it behooves her to speak with me promptly."
And so she did, wrapped in a hastily donned dressing gown within the small lobby of the Boarding House. "Very good, Miss Foxheart. Our apologies, we understand that Miss Kai has been unavailable for some time, and haste has now become urgent. So if it shall please you Miss, Master Vann will brook no further delay in the roll-out of his line. He wishes to remind his lovely model, and representative, that her employment is not limited strictly to showing the clothing, but at all times representing the Vann line of fashions, clothing, and accessories. She shall appear at her beautiful best, at all times, so that all who catch sight of her shall know the beauty of Vann Fashions."
The well-appointed Hyur bowed his head with an apologetic authority. Without a glance to the befuddled blonde in her state of undress, he drew a polished watch from his coat pocket to confirm the exact time. "Two women shall arrive here in exactly one hour. They shall attend to your manicure, styling, and makeup. In exactly two hours, your porter shall be waiting here at the door to escort you to the fitting. Please do be on time. Master Vann has the highest expectations."
Musical Accompaniement
Thank goodness for that cup of tea...
Standing just outside the door she took a moment to adjust her hair, buying time for a few deep settling breaths while the Porter stood with the door opened for her. Stepping within, she was greeted by the sound of strumming mandolin to accompany the echo of her heels against the wooden floor of the well-appointed space. She had never been inside the building before, a small domed structure near the main Gridanian market. The porter closed the door behind her, leaving her alone as she entered the unknown.
She moved tentatively forward, across the rich carpet of the small foyer, covering the gold-hued wooden floor. She crossed beneath the ornately trimmed octagonal ceiling, decorated with carved wood-work of a rich mahogany tone. The large chamber doors matched the dark trim, equipped with wood latch and handles of the sort nearly unique to Gridania. The moderately sized room within radiated with a natural sunlight that lilted in through the gently green-hued glass-covered dome above. The player of the mandolin looked up upon her entrance, peering from his perch upon a built-in couch that ran the length of the room's circumference. He cast a friendly smile, and with a nudge to the smaller hammered dulcimer player next to him, the two began a light, relaxing tune that easily filled the area's volume with that warm emotion.
As if on queue a sharply-dressed Lalafellan gentleman entered from a side room. Without a greeting he paced toward the center of the chamber, motioning toward Master Vann's model to follow. She hesitated, lifting blonde eyebrows as she let out a soft "huh〜" upon an even softer gasp.Â
"Well, come on—you're late already," commanded the Lalafel with an imperative but gentle tone. He waved toward her once more, followed by a finger-whistle.
This must be...
As she stepped forward a tall, slender Elezen man wheeled a multi-stepped stool toward the Lalafel who at last introduced himself. "I am Yuyumondi. Since, ahem, Miss Kai is otherwise occupied, I have been sent to direct the fitting myself."
The look of surprise upon the blonde's face was in no measure reduced as Yuyumondi circled around her. She followed him with her eyes around toward the left, then whipping it back to the right. He 'hmmmm'ed quietly, a perturbed look upon his features as he appeared to be examining every minor detail of figure from his modest height.Â
After completing the circuit he ascended the stool which brought him almost to eye-level with the woman. Again he peered over her with an attentive detail that brought a flush to her cheeks.
Come on Aya... you're a professional now, don't be bashful!Â
With his eyes offering an undisguised fixation upon the bountiful features of her chest; he let out a frustrated huff, drawing his diminutive fingers to mustachioed lip.
"Well, it is obvious why Master Vann is so fond of her. But this will require adjustments. ADJUSTMENTS!" he nearly yelled in a flustered frustration as he lifted a tensed hand into the air. With a quick turn he descended the stepped-stool, snapping his fingers.
At the signal several more people entered the room pushing wheeled contrivances: clothing racks, a counter with boxes of jewelry and assorted fashion accessories, and a large circular curtain rack that was pushed until she was centered within the metal lattice, at once two young Hyur women stepped within the ring and then pulled the modesty curtain closed around her before beginning the process of undressing her.
Somewhat to her surprise, this felt familiar. Although Monsieur Vann had taken the entire process to a level of exquisite excess that she could never have expected, the process of being measured and fitted for costumes and clothing was one with which she had become familiar.
As she felt the women's hands unhook, unlatch, and pull the dress from her body, her thoughts drifted to the rather serious matters that had come to so engross her idle hours over the past two weeks.
This Wolfedge fellow - could he really be? I mean, I know I told Kiht: he may be a relic of the past. A figure preserved from, or pulled from years ago, when 'Young King Theodric' first ascended the throne. Before... before the Ruin, before the madness, before everything. He 'knows' and supports Theodric, but he is a Fist of Rhalgar, voicing a boisterous fealty to the Destroyer. He does not know what Theodric became: how could that be?Â
Could this be simple madness? A manufactured persona? Or could it be one trapped in time. What if he had been such a man. An Ala Mhigan supporter of Theodric, before the Ruin. Imprisoned by the Wailers beneath the Shroud in Toto-Rak. What tortures might he have endured? What legacy might he have left for the Void. A foul spirit filled with anger and vengeance to rise again from the mists of time? Or, maybe a victim thrust forward into a time not-of-his choosing. This sounds of madness!
The middle-aged Elezen man stepped into the curtain. Without a hint of emotion on his features he unwound a length of measuring tape and began to move with a professional swiftness. Every portion of her figure was to be cataloged. A series of predetermined measurements that together would account for every curve and length for which the tailors would have to account. He whipped the tape along, first along the back from shoulder-to-shoulder, following each arm: shoulder-to-elbow, elbow-to-wrist, wrist to finger-tip. Each accompanied by a small, careful, adjustment of her pose with the most gentle touch of his fingertips. Then around her forehead. Neck, circumference and height. Collar, chest, above, at the prominence of, and below the bust. With every measure he announced in an unemotional tone the result of the measure, along with the cryptic term that labeled just what-it-was he was measuring, at least to the ear of another trained tailor.Â
The experience could be called invasive and embarrassing, but, such is sometimes the necessity of one's profession.
And why did the Wailers seem to want him to escape. Even now they offer no pursuit, either because they are unable, or uninterested. Why do the Wailers also seem unable to protect Bentbranch. There are two theories there: either the voidsent take advantage of the Wailer guard's waning attentiveness, or else someone involved in scheduling the shifts knows when the voidsent are coming and removes his men from the watch to safeguard them. Either way, there too, they seem to have not pursued any investigation. Even the most basic information: the rumor that the Chocobo are being devoured on site rather than stolen, was either not uncovered by the Wailers, or else not communicated to Edda.Â
No, its not a rumor. The look in that poor boy's eyes... I know children are more capable actors than adults tend to give credit (not that we ever took advantage of that - right Aya?), But he was upset, so terribly, terribly upset. All I wanted to do was comfort him, the poor child. But still, that means the Wailers are either not trying or not sharing...
The moment his measurement-taking was complete, the Elezen exited as swiftly as he had entered. Moments later the two women dressers re-entered with articles of clothing, and quickly helped dress the model in a rather poorly-fit dress that no doubt was due for adjustment. Meanwhile a team of tailors was already to work outside of the curtain, and the musicians happily strummed-and-tapped-away at their strings filling the chamber with a happy mood that contrasted sharply with the efficient attitude of the Lalafel in charge.
How is this all tied to the mad woman? Was she an ally of the same force behind Wolfedge? Or was she something else entirely: perhaps a demon or witch riled by the very Wailers Kiht and the others were dispatched to aid. C'kayah is right: you cannot trust the wailing of a mad woman, but Kiht certainly seems to be worried by what she was saying. Didn't Kiht say none of the Wailers survived? I don't really remember... I thought that's what she said, maybe I should...
A sharp pull upon the strings of the too-tight corset sent a shriek from Aya that rudely interrupted her thought. With a soft apology on her lips, the dresser loosened the bind while Yuyumondi partially opened the modesty curtain from upon his stepped-stool, peering within. "I hope everything is alright, my dear." Aya pressed her lips together and nodded energetically with a worried-look as the women tried to adjust her figure within the dress.Â
"Very well." he quirked one eyebrow, "We want no torture here, but remember: in Fashion there can be no gain without pain!" He lent a flourish to the expression and exited the curtain as quickly as he had poked within, quietly confiding to his Elezen assistant, "Master Vann assured me she was a Professional. Let us pray he was correct in that assessment."
Now, Edda mentioned a 'War' Council. There must be many others involved. More than Kiht, and Edda, since neither mentioned this as their idea. Let us hope the others can keep a calm head. That Sarnai and Wolfe may well have cost us our best chance to find out what's going on before its too late. What were they thinking? Oh, I know, we have a resistant prisoner lets throw knives at him rather than ask useful questions.
She sighed and rolled her eyes at the memory, just as the curtain was pulled open. Suddenly remembering where she was she strode a few steps forward, doing the best runway walk she could in such limited space, swaying her hips to either side drawing one foot before the other with long-legged strides. Yuyumondi nodded appreciatively, "Yes, yes, very good. We'll need to adjust that bodice," he commented as if she had any doubt. "I feel like we could add a little something more in way of a belt, too. What do you think Malachai? Something in a dark brown to match the trim." he looked to the Elezen who nodded silently. She returned to the curtain.
Lets see, where are things. Well: I still haven't been able to get back in touch with C'kayah. I have sent him on a wild goose chase for Chocobo that do not exist. At least C'kayah enjoys goose chases; better him than Kiht. Speaking of Kiht, she'll find Wolfedge, one way or another, I'm sure. and I've told her everything I know. She is the most capable huntress I could have found, and the most reliable: she won't kill him unless she feels she must. Now Edda, Edda and the Chocobo. I made sure she knew they were being devoured. But, what more can we do? I offered her that hare-brained scheme: feed the Chocobo ground Aetheric crystal. Allow the Voidsent to devour them. Then find where their lair is from a distance, rather than tracking them directly. That's crazy is that really the best you can do Aya?
She shook her head in frustration, ready in time for another appearance beyond the curtain. The tailors offered tight-lipped nods of approval, and after a quick discussion returned her to behind curtain where she quietly prayed to be relieved from the constricting bodice already. "The next!" came the order from without, and her wish was soon granted as the dressers began to help her change into the next outfit.
Now what of Toto-rak... what of this Wolfedge. How could we find out more about him? Would it help - well we don't have many leads to go on do we? Was he actually kept there? Could we identify why - or when? Without a better base to return to might he return there? It may be worth a look...
She emerged again from the curtain. The outfit was so Gridanian, it almost didn't seem Vann-like. But he had cut a large window in the tunic, enough to highlight the ample cleavage on offer within the bodice. The back of the tunic was cut with a line both fresh and slightly risque to the conservative taste of the Shroud. Aya stepped out with confidence upon the high-heeled boots that sealed the desired look of confident, racy femininity that dared to defy, but not to obliterate the locally demure aesthetic.
There's been so much activity in the forest, between the voidsent, the starting of fires, and the thefts: the deep forest dwellers must be aware that something is afoot. They must have spied suspicious activities, or heard rumors about them. Hunters, trappers, scouts, and hermits. What about the poachers? The bandits? The Redbellies? If they claimed to have heard nothing that alone would be reason to suspect pay-offs or threats - no the Redbellies do not respond well to threats. What would it mean if these... vandals, whoever they are, had managed to bribe the Redbellies? From where would the acquire the gil or goods? It could tell us -something- at least.
Now, and Stout, Stout... Kiht will come through for you Stout, I'm sure of it. Its the best I could do, I pray it is enough.
The next outfit was similar, the tight leather trousers replaced with leggings, carefully slit along the slide to reveal hints of silky thigh. The adjustable jacket was comfortable: she was settling in. The tailors took their notes. Made their adjustments. The musicians played, part of an ensemble that busied itself in the well-choreographed hum of activity. Master Vann would be pleased, things were at last moving again.
Toto-rak. Wailer survivors. Deep Shroud Dwellers. Wolfedge. And, if the crazy bet pays off, perhaps wherever it is the Voidsent return to. I wonder what the War Council will come up with?
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