==== October 10th, 2013
==== Donatien, Arnaut (NPC) Taralde
==== Donatien takes a custom order from the weyr's resident dandy. Like father like son?

Who Donatien, Arnaut (NPC), Taralde
What Donatien gets a custom order from the weyr's resident dandy. Like father like son?
When Afternoon
Where Southern Weyr

Dien2.bmp t-ral_sheepish.jpg


Donatien's Room
Upon entry, the first item to the left is a large, solid desk, scattered almost tidily with tools of the leather-working trade. Sheafs of notes and drawings sit in one corner, neatly documented, and a book of clients sits closed at the top of the desk. Drawers are firmly shut and locked but for the bottom one. Behind the desk, a utilitarian, but comfortable chair sits tucked in.
On the other side of the doorway is a small serving bar, with a decanter filled with amber liquid and two glasses sat ceremoniously on a brass tray. Below it, several other bottles of liquids, though they seem mostly full. Two comfortable-looking lounging chairs sit before it, and a low table separates them.

Behind a fabric, handpainted screen shielding the back of the room peeks the foot of a large bed, looking hastily made. Next to that is the curtained doorway to the lavatory, bearing a simple washstand, stone-cut tub and toilet.
The middle of the room is largely empty but for a large rug, of no determinate pattern, but the colours of it are bright and riotous in their distribution.
The walls are decorated with paintings of mountains, mixed with small to medium-size tapestries, some of better quality than others. One says, "Farnth Bless This Holt".
Finally, there's a rack of boots along one wall, all of a similar size but wildly different in type: tall, short, exquisitely tooled, plain, black, green, tan, and so on. Someone has… a passion.

Taralde ducks back into Donatien's to place the order he'd mentioned some days before. He is wearing a lighter shirt today, loose, probably from the other Candidate he'd been with. He's wearing entirely unpractical close-fitting too-heavy wool trousers and - despite the lighter top - is still sweating rather a lot. "Clear skies, Weaver. I've come back to place that order."

Donatien has been at his desk, poring over the design of a fancy sandal when his door opens, and looks up in surprise. When it's revealed to be Taralde, the Weaver grins slightly, "Well hello there, Candidate. I didn't realize it had gotten that late. Come in, come in. Now," and Dien sits back in his chair and looks Taralde over, "You need a new wardrobe because the last one isn't suited to Southern Weyr, is that right?"
Leather Band description has been set.

Taralde nods, "That's correct." He runs a hand through his sweat-dark hair. He looks around uncertainly, "So, uh, what do you need from me?"

Waving the younger man away from the door, Dien stands and calls for Arnaut, who turns out to be a thin, reedy boy. "Arnaut, could you please take his measurements for me?" The apprentice nods and pulls a tape measure from his back pocket. "Just stand there and move your arms when I need you to," Arnaut explains. Dien, on the other hand, is pulling out his sketchbook and flipping to a fresh page. "So, what are you looking for? Light but durable, washes easily, and doesn't wrinkle?" A little snort from the Weaver, "Like all of us," and there's a little grin to Taralde.

Taralde moves where requested and alterates between watching Arnaut and adjusting his position and talking with Donatien. "Hey! Watch… it." He swallows uncomfortably. He hasn't done this before. "Right now, I just want something cooler. So, light. But," he squints, "Candidacy is… vigorous. And dirty." He purses his lips, "And if I Impress, it'll be even moreso." He shakes his head, "Do your best."

Arnaut is professional enough not to snicker as he measures along Taralde's hips and waist, but he can't control his smirk. Dien is even better at hiding his amusement, possibly because there's a book he's looking down at and sketching quickly, "Short sleeve for daytime, longer if you're going to be in the sun… Fairly form fitting, I think, Arnaut?" Arnaut nods and says, "Feet apart please. I have to measure your inseam." Donatien on the other hand just hmms, "Are you working with heavy things? What a question, of course you are. You'll still need to wear boots, then. Can't have anything crushing your feet by accident."

Inseams? He spreads his feet. He nods at Donatien's descriptions, that sounds good. "Smart looking too." He's about to elaborate on that when… "HEY! What…? You…" He catches the smirk and purses his lips, having a bit of a laugh at himself.

Donatien gives Arnaut a look with added raised eyebrow, and the apprentice shrugs. He has to have some fun… But the measurements do speed up, with Arnaut moving Taralde around to measure chest, arms, neck, etc. Finally, the reedy boy is done and Donatien nods, "Alright. Arnaut has your measurements and we'll get you set. Come back in, oh, about a week's time. What's your shoe size? And," Dien looks at the ceiling a moment, "Are there any colours that you won't wear?" Arnaut is busily putting his measure away and turns weird shades trying not to laugh.

Taralde's eyes alternate between embarrassed and laughing, his color rising too. He hadn't given any real thought to colors. He'd always favored brown, gray and blue. But Southern's color is green, And lots of it. and black. Black seemed appealing. He shrugs. "I'll leave myself in your," he squints at Arnaut, "hands. There's another commission I'd like to discuss too." He outlines his plans for a sort of insert that can be worn like a collar, sewn into a jacket collar or worn loose, like a sort of neckerchief.

Donatien is nodding, nodding, all is well… Then Taralde's request gives him pause. "I'm sure we can think of something," Dien says, "If you don't need them right away, perhaps we cn discuss it when you come to pick up your new wardrobe." Arnaut comments, "I'll see if we have enough dye for that," which is silly, of course they do, but Arnaut uses it as a reason to whisk himself out the door. Dien sighs a little and nods. "Alright. We'll talk when you get a chance again. In the Weyr colours, perhaps?" Since that's a reasonably safe bet. "And the cost of your wardrobe is to the Weyr, if they're following the usual protocol here. I'll have to chat with the Headman," and then what's nearly a smirk passes over Dien's face, "Or perhaps the lovely Assistant Headwoman…"

Taralde holds out a forestalling hand. "I've got marks for this. It's beyond what the weyr should cover." He shakes his head, stuffing down a bit of panic, "You don't need to involve my f- the Headman." He grins slyly at the weaver, "But, uh, the Headwoman could help me distribute them."

Donatien looks entirely surprised out of his thought process, "Oh, I need to talk with the Headman anyway, because if I need to outfit more candidates, I'm going to need another apprentice, of course." That Renalde shouldn't be involved in that? Bizarre, but anyway, "Though it's nice that you can pay for this yourself. We'll talk about fabrics and so on when you come back for your clothes. Nothing too expensive for a Candidate's pocket, of course, but more than simply hemp cloth." Dien, though not exactly 'refined', gives a shudder at the thought. "Anyways, I'm sure you have things to do, and we'll outfit you as necessary." Dien gives Taralde a brief, mischievous grin, "And don't let those eggs hatch before I'm done, alright? Or I'll have to start on a new set of clothes for you!"

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