Chương 11: Vol 1. Tahir's Bathing Scene: Directors Cut

Mara held a pin between her teeth, one eye narrowed in concentration, as her paws flew over the seam of the man's dress, working as quickly as possible to satisfy his impatience. She understood it: there really wasn't anything more special for any person than a groom's wedding day. Everything had to be perfect, down to the outfit, yet they also typically never had the patience for a good design. And this, while not exactly courtly per se, was certainly expensive.

It had most likely swallowed a good portion of his poor future wife's dowry.

"So," she said, setting her needles beside the little dish of pins, "what do we think?" The man headed over to the full-length mirror. The dress was simple but lovingly made: coarse but clean linen dyed a faded cream to contrast with his russet fur; a fitted bodice designed to flatter his waist ever so slightly, laced at the side; an ankle-length skirt; a dyed sash tied around his waist with an embroidered depiction of the first wedding of Seroth; and small embroidered flowers at the hems.

Mara really hoped he liked it, because it was a pain to sew. The man looked at Mara, wiggled his ears, swished his tail, and then, jumping oh-so-joyously, said:"Oh, it is just lovely, oh so lovely, my dear Mara. You are truly a master at what you do." Mara smiled. That smile faded as the man pulled her up and inundated her with a flurry of grateful kisses and cheek-licks.

"Thank you, thank you."

"Okay, okay, that's enough, now go make Vera the happiest woman in this town."

"Will do," he said cheerfully. He waved her goodbye and stepped out of the shop. Mara leaned back in her chair by the counter and ran her paws through her fur. It was spring, which meant a lot of young love. Young love meant a lot of work, which, on paper, was not a bad thing; she did enjoy having money, after all, but it also meant less sleep. She looked around her little shop: thread spools cluttered the counter. Half-finished bodices hung from pegs along the wall.

Chalk marks dotted the floor next to her measuring stool; the air smelled like pressed linen, old goat and sheep wool, and the faint metallic bite of needles. A basket of mending sat by her feet. She shrugged. Such is life, she thought. Ding! Mara's ears twitched. She didn't remember having any more appointments that day. A walk-in, then.

"Excuse me, miss," a gruff, strangely feminine voice said. Mara rubbed her eyes and got out of her chair.

"What can I do for you—" Mara suddenly found herself wide-eyed, staring at an elf man's uncovered bosom. It was… quite big…

"Uh, hello, miss?" the gruff voice said again. Mara realized it was coming from the person attached to the bosom she had been staring at, which made her ears flatten and her tail tucked between her legs in embarrassment. She felt her face heat up.

"I, uh, uh, hello," she said, desperately trying to figure out which direction she should look. She had to admit, they were very mesmerizing… Wait, no. What was she saying? Get those pervy thoughts out of your head, Mara! Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

"What can I do … for you, sir?"

"Name's Morton, this here is Tahir. As ya' can see, the kid and I are lookin' for some outfits. Think ya' can supply us with some?" Mara gently looked up and saw, beside the man, a short Kharani male, wearing a tattered dress covered in grime and filth. Immediately, her ears perked up. This would not do. By the gods, there were stains upon stains upon stains upon more stains! Mud had worked its way so deeply into the fabric that Mara doubted even the Dual-Gods themselves could scrub it clean.

The hem was in tatters, and his fur was no better. It was clumped around his shoulders and neck in little knots.

"You can show me how much you can afford to pay after," she remarked.

"We need to get you boys some new clothes right now."

"Why, that's very kind of you m—" Mara threw a towel in his face.

"P-please wrap that around your body, sir," she said sheepishly. # Mara decided to tackle the Kharani man first. She had never served an elf client before and, as such, was not as privy to their fashion customs. But she knew like the back of her paw what a young Kharani man liked. She took him into the back, where they talked through different designs.

It was hard to tell what colours would best match his fur, given the tragic state of it, but Mara had been a tailor for far too long not to see the shape beneath said disaster. He had a delicate and fine waist, cute little shoulders, and the sort of proportions that any of her clients would kill to have. Almost anything would look good on him, provided it fit properly.

"I refuse to wear anything … brown," Tahir said with his nose wrinkled.

"I would much prefer something… maybe white?"

"Are you travelling along the roads?" Mara asked.

"Yes," Tahir said.

"So, you will be travelling amongst the brown roads that would likely turn anything pale brown."

"Regrettably."

"Then you are wearing brown." The argument went on for a while, but eventually, they settled on something that Tahir found passable. It was a practical travelling dress with a cream linen underdress, a moss-green fitted bodice, a brown overskirt, a shorter hem, a slit at the back to allow his tail to be visible and move freely, and very minimal embroidery, despite his insistence. When Tahir looked in the mirror for one final once-over, he said flatly: —"It is—nice." Now came the challenge: Morton.

She had run into a really odd issue: when she had asked what style of dress he typically wore, he had asked for something more masculine. She obliged and showed him some of the most masculine designs she had, yet he hated all of them. He especially didn't like anything with flowers on it. Eventually, she gave up and asked, "Well, just tell me what it is you wish to have." He relayed his ideas, and at first, she was confused.

What he was describing sounded far more ruggedly feminine than anything masculine, but she liked the idea. She got to work and, by the end of the day, had sewn him a new outfit.

The outfit had a loose, breathable, long-sleeved, linen shirt that was red plaid, high enough to completely cover the entirety of his chest, a dark brown sleeveless longcoat that fell to his mid-thighs that emphasized the shoulders in a rather womanish way, and brown work trousers that made Mara feel a little uncomfortable, and her chest tighten; how odd it was for a man to wear pants, but Morton insisted. It was offensively plain, rugged, and feminine. And Morton looked delighted.

She brushed the loose threads from both outfits, folded them neatly, and nearly had a heart attack when she saw the amount of money that had been laid on the counter. However, she quickly regained her composure and told the two to visit the bathhouse next to her shop. # Prince Tahir splashed into the private bath with all the mirth of a cub finally free of his tutoring sessions.

He was in utter, unbelievable bliss as the steaming water wrapped around him, soaking into his matted fur and gracefully dislodging the chunks of mud from places he would rather not think about.

"Heh," Morton said with a groan.

"Feels good, don't it, kid?" Tahir didn't answer; he was too busy cringing as he swiftly combed through his fur. It was the best pain he had ever felt. Morton just smiled and closed his eyes, planning to doze off as he let the kid get on with his grooming ritual. He was not expecting it to take over four hours.