[It was after they returned from that strange, neon-coloured beach island that Byleth finally admitted defeat over his hair.
The nails growing into claws was an issue he would stoically endure until his dying days - that was an easy fix, as this place sold the very convenient tool called a 'nail clipper', which meant the task took less than five minutes. It was something he easily kept from Yuri too, which how often he wore gloves and how they were both still quite independent, coming and going from the house to go their own thing. The fingernails turning into claws as a manageable war that Byleth was confident in waging. It wasn't a problem.
The hair, though.
Perhaps it was his Nabatean lineage, or maybe it was just how the Discord was manifesting, but his hair wasn't an easy five minute fix with a very sharp dagger. Even as careless as he was about his looks, he knew better than to just haphazardly hack at it - he did try to cut it into a straight line at least... the problem was that his hair was tough. As in, he didn't cut his hair with a dagger so much as he sawed it. And to ensure it remained neatish and didn't look like he got mauled by a hedge-trimmer, the whole process took an hour at least to complete. Very hard to hide from Yuri.
So, he didn't bother, really, but he didn't really invite conversation or assistance as he stoically worked on his hair one muggy evening either. He was sat on his sofa set up in front of the fire pit, a mirror balanced on a cushion as he had a fistful of hair in one hand, and a sharp dagger in the other, determinedly sawing back and forth as it slowly cut through the surprisingly tough locks. It was taking a lot of arm strength here, and Byleth - despite the slim arms - was not weak upper body wise either.
Maybe he could repurpose some of this hair...? He did save what he cut off, just in case he ever needed use out of it, but he couldn't help but wonder if it could be woven together to make nigh-indestructible thread, or repurposed into emergency bindings or something. He just won't tell anyone it was made out of his hair...]
[ It would be a difficult thing to live in close quarters with someone and not take note of small changes in a person. This effect was only magnified with someone like Yuri, who naturally minded everyone around them, from their preferences and predilictions to the developments in their lives. He knew every Abyssian with a level of familiarity no general could boast of.
And Byleth... His house was a single room. It was impossible not to notice some oddities about his personal grooming. At the same time, the effort to keep those developments private was enough to render him hesitant to inquire. The lot of it seemed harmless enough, save that Yuri believed there was a low-simmering frustration building there. That took him longer to pick up on than he would have liked, straight-faced as Byleth so often was.
There was a point at which he would have to ask, and it came one evening as he was setting up provisions for the next day. Byleth was an earlier riser than Yuri naturally was, so it was easiest to have as much ready in advance as he could manage. There wasn't enough kitchen prep in the world to ignore a man sitting there sawing away at his hair, however. ]
Think you might want a hand with that? I'm starting to suspect my blades are sharper than yours.
[ He spoke up as he packed food away for the next day, keeping his eyes on this task. It was an odd situation to be in, but then, all of this was odd, wasn't it? ]
[Byleth let out a wordless grunt, giving a few rough jerks of his knife before he finally cut through the locks of hair he'd been clutching. The strands came away, hanging from his loosely clenched fist, and he inspected the edge of his blade. It had actually dulled just from that.]
...it's not my blade, it's my hair. It's very... resistant to cutting.
[It's why he wasn't using scissors. They worked for a little bit, but inevitably they dulled and then pulled rather than cut. Byleth sighed and carefully leaned down to deposit the hair into a bowl he'd repurposed for this.]
[ Resistant hair was a new notion, enough so that it pulled Yuri's attention from what served as the kitchen to where Byleth sat. He eyed the back of the man's head quizzically. Was that hyperbole? Byleth wasn't usually the type, unless he was assaulted by a mess of neon, in which case Yuri hardly blamed him.
Still, it was difficult to believe that Byleth's hair was that oddly durable. Was it an influence of this place, like the suppression of magic for those unharmonized was? Another question he had no way to answer, at least for the time being. Yuri mentally set it aside for now. ]
...Maybe you're not approaching it from the right angle.
[ Even if it was difficult to cut for some reason, that could simply mean a different approach was required. From what Yuri had observed and heard, Byleth was going about it with brute force. ]
[ Very suddenly, there’s a sense of Communion touching your character’s mind. However, it’s as if they connect with the mind of a shared Aspect, as they’re not able to block out the brief, but sharp memory that comes to them. ]
A Shard-Bearer sinks into the warm waters of Highstorm’s seasonal hot springs with a content sigh. They’d grown up with nothing, so this kind of luxury had always seemed like an unattainable dream.
[ ooc note — Just to avoid OOC confusion/misinterpretation, the details included in this memory are random and are not necessarily interconnected or plot meaningful beyond a surface level. However, your character is free to interpret this random memory however they’d like! This event will also be touched on somewhat during today’s NPC Communion Post. ]
[It has been a few days, since the Oracle trial concluded. Normally, she would have contacted Yuri about this the next day, perhaps the next after that at the latest, but... Things were different this time. In many ways.]
Yuri Leclerc.
[... or, "Regulus", she supposed.]
I wonder if you are available for a brief conversation.
[ That Hayame has contacted him individually comes as a surprise to him, but Yuri quickly reasons that she must have a purpose in doing so. Hayame's never struck him as one for chit-chat. ]
I am indeed. What did you want to discuss?
[ She used the word conversation, and that could entail all manner of possibilities. ]
[She has not seen him since the Oracle trial, since they all woke up back in their own beds as if they had never left them days past. He has not seen what she looks like now. He would not be able to guess...
Is what she would normally thing. But there have been... newspapers. Tabloids. Pamphlets. Posters. She does not know how much he knows... and so she speaks as if he knows nothing, because that is what she wishes-]
You are a man who seems... well-groomed.
[... Is that a compliment, or?]
I would ask you to recommend a hairdresser in Springstar.
[ Yuri can't help but sound surprised. He knows full well of course that his personal grooming is impeccable simply because he makes a point of maintaining it. His looks are another weapon in his arsenal, often far more effective and useful than he'd like to be the case. Having known it so long, he's reconciled with this.
But the acknowledgement from Hayame, who prides herself as a warrior, is what stands out to him. He has no doubt that she likely views him as more feminine, hobbies included, even though she has acknowledged him as capable...
Still, she's right that he would be a good resource for such things. ]
I actually do it myself. Byleth's too, since it can be difficult to trim your own. The back, in particular.
[ Something he's been reminded of since his hair has abruptly ended up shorter than it had been in years. ]
[ Yuri, perhaps to his surprise, receives a small parcel. Inside is a small collection of baked goods or sweets, a small jar of honey, and a very fancy bottle of shampoo, along with a small folding knife, apparently intended to be used as a tool. ]
Yuri - I hope these small tokens of my regard find you well; we talked a little about this and I am embarrassed to admit I decided to include you on my list. I wish you all the best.
[ They're thoughtful gifts and Yuri is indeed surprised. He knew Dimitri wanted to do something for others, but he hadn't anticipated that he was one of them. Seeing as he is, the only natural response is to return fire.
Late that night, not that Springstar knows true night, there will come a knock at Dimitri's door. Whenever he happens to investigate, he'll find a box awaiting him. Within is a glazed cake infused with chamomile. By now, Yuri has observed that Dimitri favors it.
Underneath the cake is a recipe book, but it is wholly unique. Each recipe is hand-written, with drawn illustrations to accompany, penned in Yuri's oddly elegant script. Tucked within the book is a bookmark made with pressed chamomile blossoms. He too will find a small note.
Thank you for the thoughtful gifts. Though modest, I hope you'll find these just as pleasing. Be kind to yourself, Dimitri.
[On the first day of the new year by the Kenosian calendar, Hayame seeks out Yuri Leclerc. She has a delivery to make for the other man in that home, as well, so... she brings both. There is a certain formality to her visit at first, not just the fact she has come dressed in her one formal dress, the shorn short remains of her hair styled as best she could. There is ritual to the greetings she is attempting to recreate in this world- the ones she had grown up emulating and learning so that one day she might perform them. A low bow, gratitude expressed for the care in which she has been held the past year...
But eventually she softens from the rigid (though sincere) motions, in order to present what she has brought. Somewhat embarrassed, inexperienced in being in any sort of position to give actual gifts to people, she manages to explain that in her world it is customary to present new clothing on the occasion of the new year, so...
She has brought this- a robe-like top that resembles the fashions she is used to from her own world, in a dark gray color. Close enough, anyway. As she puts it in his hands... She manages to say that she hopes he likes it. That it would honor her if he were to wear it. And that they will be in each other's care for the next year as well.]
[ The gift comes as a surprise to Yuri. Long before his birth, the Imperial calendar was changed to dictate that each year begins in spring, so all of the year-end festivities have come at a time to which he isn't accustomed. Customs he's been greeted with aren't ones he's familiar with, and Hayame arriving with gifts for him and a certain someone else is no exception to all of this.
Her formality suggests that this is important to her — to her people, surely. Accordingly, Yuri accepts the gift with care. A care bordering on reverence, because he isn't accustomed to gifts of this nature, nor gratitude for the small things which come naturally to him. Payback for favors and the like are one matter, but he knows this to be another.
As a result, he's oddly quiet for a spell before venturing to ask what occasions the garb is appropriate for. He wouldn't wish to wear it on an inappropriate occasion, after all. Upon receiving that clarification, he makes certain to thank Hayame for her gift, before admitting his realm's year begins later, so he is remiss in not having something to give her in return. But he will, of course, make up for it in due time.
In the coming days, Hayame may occasion to spot him in his morning foraging runs wearing the apparel she had gifted him. He may not tie it properly, but he does wear it neatly and with care. On one such morning, her hoof may brush against a small, lacquered box containing a hair ornament resembling a bow and arrow. When worn, the pieces line up such that the arrow appears nocked back, ready to be loosed. ]
[ Like we're talking class a asshole without even trying terrible. ]
[ The fact anyone is letting her near them must be a child's nightmare. How does anyone handle this? It'd been... Well, calling it simple would be a poor choice of words. She'd found the child hiding in a corner close to one of the ruined zones. She'd spoke of shadows and monsters and things that were more normal than they were not. Nebula had not been patient - though in her own ways, she tried. She'd demanded where her parents were and the answer to that had been splattered across the cobblestones. ]
[ That had filled her with anger and she bore no kindness for the monster that was still slurping up their supper like... She's not putting words to it. She did not care to wait for the Legion, it had been quick work. And when she returned to the child she'd been covered in blood that wasn't hers in - probably wasn't just the monster's either. The child had looked terrified. ]
[ She wouldn't blame her. And yet the child had hugged her and she'd hugged her back. Confused, wary, and surprised. By the time the Legion had gotten there to ask questions the child had fallen asleep. They offered to take her to the orphanage and Nebula had refused. She's not particularly sure why she refused. They would be able to take care of her; Maybe she remembered when her own parents had died and what her father's army had done to her and everyone she loved. ]
[ She took the child with her and by the time she'd woken up she had bought them both new clothes and taken her to clean up. After that, it really wasn't a difficult decision - Nebula was not fit to be a parent. She was not fit to watch over children so dropping her off at the orphanage had been the only right thing to do... But Shardbearer exploits hadn't passed by even children. ]
[ So now she has children tugging at hands, her legs, and anywhere they can reach. They talk and scream and laugh and she wonders if she ever had a day like that - And it's only because the one young girl clings close to her that she stays even when she snaps at another pair for yanking on her hair. ]
[ Yuri had certain habits back home. Those habits remain, even in this place, which has led him to be a regular sight at orphanages as well as the local church. What people believe or don't believe rests with them, but Yuri says his prayers, makes donations, and just so happens that he also regularly shows up with a hefty basket of baked goods a few times a week.
He remembers well what it was like the first time he'd tasted something with sugar in it. It may not be so scarce here as it was in his homeland, but that doesn't mean that a little sweetness isn't welcome in a life that isn't easy. Yuri had precious little in life, but he'd always had a loving mother.
In this, no matter what other struggles he faced, he has always counted himself blessed.
And so as is his routine, Yuri shows up with treats for the children and the staff who care for them, only to freeze at the sight of a familiar face. There Nebula is, being used as a jungle gym by damn near every kid in the place. He can manage little more than wide-eyed staring for a beat, before he catches himself and manages to croak out a greeting. ]
[ Which is to say, Nebula straightens at a familiar voice and turns steely. Suddenly aware of her predicament - which is a lot of over-excited children she is doing her best not to yell at (unsuccessfully). She's not good at this! ]
Shut up.
[ She addresses immediately, sharply, in lieu of any kind of real greeting. And then she turns to bark at the children: ]
Get off me!
[ Some - most of them scatter - in shrieks that could be amusement or fear. The little girl stays. She doesn't care so much, she's quiet enough. She, helpfully, pointedly does not look at Yuri. Sorry, Yuri. ]
[ That sure is a commanding yell, if nothing else. Yuri watches the kids scatter like birds startled by a loud noise, which isn't entirely inaccurate, though he suspects from their giggles they've decided it's all in good fun... Save the one that sticks to Nebula like a bur. ]
Looks like you've got yourself a fan.
[ Far be it from Yuri Leclerc to keep his mouth shut just because someone told him to. Goddess forfend. Instead, he strolls further into the room, rifles through his basket, and procures something that smells faintly sweet in a cheerfully colorful wrapping.
He halts a good arm's length away, deliberating. Judging from the kid's behavior, he suspects the treat would be best received from a certain someone else. First, though— ]
You come here often?
[ Yuri never having seen her here doesn't mean anything. They may simply not have ever visited at the same time. ]
[There is much to be done, in the time between the attack on Springstar and preparation for what must come next. After the Tribune's laying-in-state and asking Yuri to try his healing magic on her (successful, more so than the Heliopolis healers had been when she had been unconscious), she had been far too busy to keep much in touch. She had temporarily suspended her reading and writing lessons.
But... there is one thing she does need to do. Not just for her, even though a selfish part of her did think that perhaps... perhaps it could be appreciate another way, but primarily for her potential usefulness during any upcoming missions. So-]
[ When Hayame's voice filters into his awareness, Yuri pauses what he was doing. She might be treated to a flicker of his writing process, just a blur of half-ideas about battling an aquatic monster before he mentally slams the brakes and tries to shove it off to the side. He'd just been so focused on working out that bit of plot. ]
Good morning, Hayame.
[ He hastens to respond. Don't mind anything he might've mistakenly shared in his overfocus. ]
[ Curiosity flits through their mental connection, but Yuri doesn't question it. Chances are, if Hayame intends him to know, he'll find out on due course. ]
Well then, you've called on the right man.
[ A shrewd move, he'd like to say, but he doesn't know whether she'd take it as the praise be intends. ]
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Late Warqu (August)
The nails growing into claws was an issue he would stoically endure until his dying days - that was an easy fix, as this place sold the very convenient tool called a 'nail clipper', which meant the task took less than five minutes. It was something he easily kept from Yuri too, which how often he wore gloves and how they were both still quite independent, coming and going from the house to go their own thing. The fingernails turning into claws as a manageable war that Byleth was confident in waging. It wasn't a problem.
The hair, though.
Perhaps it was his Nabatean lineage, or maybe it was just how the Discord was manifesting, but his hair wasn't an easy five minute fix with a very sharp dagger. Even as careless as he was about his looks, he knew better than to just haphazardly hack at it - he did try to cut it into a straight line at least... the problem was that his hair was tough. As in, he didn't cut his hair with a dagger so much as he sawed it. And to ensure it remained neatish and didn't look like he got mauled by a hedge-trimmer, the whole process took an hour at least to complete. Very hard to hide from Yuri.
So, he didn't bother, really, but he didn't really invite conversation or assistance as he stoically worked on his hair one muggy evening either. He was sat on his sofa set up in front of the fire pit, a mirror balanced on a cushion as he had a fistful of hair in one hand, and a sharp dagger in the other, determinedly sawing back and forth as it slowly cut through the surprisingly tough locks. It was taking a lot of arm strength here, and Byleth - despite the slim arms - was not weak upper body wise either.
Maybe he could repurpose some of this hair...? He did save what he cut off, just in case he ever needed use out of it, but he couldn't help but wonder if it could be woven together to make nigh-indestructible thread, or repurposed into emergency bindings or something. He just won't tell anyone it was made out of his hair...]
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And Byleth... His house was a single room. It was impossible not to notice some oddities about his personal grooming. At the same time, the effort to keep those developments private was enough to render him hesitant to inquire. The lot of it seemed harmless enough, save that Yuri believed there was a low-simmering frustration building there. That took him longer to pick up on than he would have liked, straight-faced as Byleth so often was.
There was a point at which he would have to ask, and it came one evening as he was setting up provisions for the next day. Byleth was an earlier riser than Yuri naturally was, so it was easiest to have as much ready in advance as he could manage. There wasn't enough kitchen prep in the world to ignore a man sitting there sawing away at his hair, however. ]
Think you might want a hand with that? I'm starting to suspect my blades are sharper than yours.
[ He spoke up as he packed food away for the next day, keeping his eyes on this task. It was an odd situation to be in, but then, all of this was odd, wasn't it? ]
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...it's not my blade, it's my hair. It's very... resistant to cutting.
[It's why he wasn't using scissors. They worked for a little bit, but inevitably they dulled and then pulled rather than cut. Byleth sighed and carefully leaned down to deposit the hair into a bowl he'd repurposed for this.]
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Still, it was difficult to believe that Byleth's hair was that oddly durable. Was it an influence of this place, like the suppression of magic for those unharmonized was? Another question he had no way to answer, at least for the time being. Yuri mentally set it aside for now. ]
...Maybe you're not approaching it from the right angle.
[ Even if it was difficult to cut for some reason, that could simply mean a different approach was required. From what Yuri had observed and heard, Byleth was going about it with brute force. ]
Would you allow me to try?
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a memory—
A Shard-Bearer sinks into the warm waters of Highstorm’s seasonal hot springs with a content sigh. They’d grown up with nothing, so this kind of luxury had always seemed like an unattainable dream.
[ ooc note — Just to avoid OOC confusion/misinterpretation, the details included in this memory are random and are not necessarily interconnected or plot meaningful beyond a surface level. However, your character is free to interpret this random memory however they’d like! This event will also be touched on somewhat during today’s NPC Communion Post. ]
Communion → Post Harbinger Oracle
[That's all she offers to start the conversation. Curt, impolite greeting with no flourish or flare.]
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Hey to you too, Rin.
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Not that he'll ask why she's asking. ]
In general, or something specific?
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POST-HARBINGER ORACLE ➳ 切り髪の結い方
Yuri Leclerc.
[... or, "Regulus", she supposed.]
I wonder if you are available for a brief conversation.
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I am indeed. What did you want to discuss?
[ She used the word conversation, and that could entail all manner of possibilities. ]
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Is what she would normally thing. But there have been... newspapers. Tabloids. Pamphlets. Posters. She does not know how much he knows... and so she speaks as if he knows nothing, because that is what she wishes-]
You are a man who seems... well-groomed.
[... Is that a compliment, or?]
I would ask you to recommend a hairdresser in Springstar.
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[ Yuri can't help but sound surprised. He knows full well of course that his personal grooming is impeccable simply because he makes a point of maintaining it. His looks are another weapon in his arsenal, often far more effective and useful than he'd like to be the case. Having known it so long, he's reconciled with this.
But the acknowledgement from Hayame, who prides herself as a warrior, is what stands out to him. He has no doubt that she likely views him as more feminine, hobbies included, even though she has acknowledged him as capable...
Still, she's right that he would be a good resource for such things. ]
I actually do it myself. Byleth's too, since it can be difficult to trim your own. The back, in particular.
[ Something he's been reminded of since his hair has abruptly ended up shorter than it had been in years. ]
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late takiltu
Yuri - I hope these small tokens of my regard find you well; we talked a little about this and I am embarrassed to admit I decided to include you on my list. I wish you all the best.
-Dimitri Blaiddyd
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Late that night, not that Springstar knows true night, there will come a knock at Dimitri's door. Whenever he happens to investigate, he'll find a box awaiting him. Within is a glazed cake infused with chamomile. By now, Yuri has observed that Dimitri favors it.
Underneath the cake is a recipe book, but it is wholly unique. Each recipe is hand-written, with drawn illustrations to accompany, penned in Yuri's oddly elegant script. Tucked within the book is a bookmark made with pressed chamomile blossoms. He too will find a small note.
Thank you for the thoughtful gifts. Though modest, I hope you'll find these just as pleasing. Be kind to yourself, Dimitri.
- Yuri Leclerc ]
new year's delivery
But eventually she softens from the rigid (though sincere) motions, in order to present what she has brought. Somewhat embarrassed, inexperienced in being in any sort of position to give actual gifts to people, she manages to explain that in her world it is customary to present new clothing on the occasion of the new year, so...
She has brought this- a robe-like top that resembles the fashions she is used to from her own world, in a dark gray color. Close enough, anyway. As she puts it in his hands... She manages to say that she hopes he likes it. That it would honor her if he were to wear it. And that they will be in each other's care for the next year as well.]
Re: new year's delivery
Her formality suggests that this is important to her — to her people, surely. Accordingly, Yuri accepts the gift with care. A care bordering on reverence, because he isn't accustomed to gifts of this nature, nor gratitude for the small things which come naturally to him. Payback for favors and the like are one matter, but he knows this to be another.
As a result, he's oddly quiet for a spell before venturing to ask what occasions the garb is appropriate for. He wouldn't wish to wear it on an inappropriate occasion, after all. Upon receiving that clarification, he makes certain to thank Hayame for her gift, before admitting his realm's year begins later, so he is remiss in not having something to give her in return. But he will, of course, make up for it in due time.
In the coming days, Hayame may occasion to spot him in his morning foraging runs wearing the apparel she had gifted him. He may not tie it properly, but he does wear it neatly and with care. On one such morning, her hoof may brush against a small, lacquered box containing a hair ornament resembling a bow and arrow. When worn, the pieces line up such that the arrow appears nocked back, ready to be loosed. ]
emru🔁action
[ Like we're talking class a asshole without even trying terrible. ]
[ The fact anyone is letting her near them must be a child's nightmare. How does anyone handle this? It'd been... Well, calling it simple would be a poor choice of words. She'd found the child hiding in a corner close to one of the ruined zones. She'd spoke of shadows and monsters and things that were more normal than they were not. Nebula had not been patient - though in her own ways, she tried. She'd demanded where her parents were and the answer to that had been splattered across the cobblestones. ]
[ That had filled her with anger and she bore no kindness for the monster that was still slurping up their supper like... She's not putting words to it. She did not care to wait for the Legion, it had been quick work. And when she returned to the child she'd been covered in blood that wasn't hers in - probably wasn't just the monster's either. The child had looked terrified. ]
[ She wouldn't blame her. And yet the child had hugged her and she'd hugged her back. Confused, wary, and surprised. By the time the Legion had gotten there to ask questions the child had fallen asleep. They offered to take her to the orphanage and Nebula had refused. She's not particularly sure why she refused. They would be able to take care of her; Maybe she remembered when her own parents had died and what her father's army had done to her and everyone she loved. ]
[ She took the child with her and by the time she'd woken up she had bought them both new clothes and taken her to clean up. After that, it really wasn't a difficult decision - Nebula was not fit to be a parent. She was not fit to watch over children so dropping her off at the orphanage had been the only right thing to do... But Shardbearer exploits hadn't passed by even children. ]
[ So now she has children tugging at hands, her legs, and anywhere they can reach. They talk and scream and laugh and she wonders if she ever had a day like that - And it's only because the one young girl clings close to her that she stays even when she snaps at another pair for yanking on her hair. ]
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He remembers well what it was like the first time he'd tasted something with sugar in it. It may not be so scarce here as it was in his homeland, but that doesn't mean that a little sweetness isn't welcome in a life that isn't easy. Yuri had precious little in life, but he'd always had a loving mother.
In this, no matter what other struggles he faced, he has always counted himself blessed.
And so as is his routine, Yuri shows up with treats for the children and the staff who care for them, only to freeze at the sight of a familiar face. There Nebula is, being used as a jungle gym by damn near every kid in the place. He can manage little more than wide-eyed staring for a beat, before he catches himself and manages to croak out a greeting. ]
...Hey.
[ Fancy meeting you here, Nebula. ]
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[ Which is to say, Nebula straightens at a familiar voice and turns steely. Suddenly aware of her predicament - which is a lot of over-excited children she is doing her best not to yell at (unsuccessfully). She's not good at this! ]
Shut up.
[ She addresses immediately, sharply, in lieu of any kind of real greeting. And then she turns to bark at the children: ]
Get off me!
[ Some - most of them scatter - in shrieks that could be amusement or fear. The little girl stays. She doesn't care so much, she's quiet enough. She, helpfully, pointedly does not look at Yuri. Sorry, Yuri. ]
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Looks like you've got yourself a fan.
[ Far be it from Yuri Leclerc to keep his mouth shut just because someone told him to. Goddess forfend. Instead, he strolls further into the room, rifles through his basket, and procures something that smells faintly sweet in a cheerfully colorful wrapping.
He halts a good arm's length away, deliberating. Judging from the kid's behavior, he suspects the treat would be best received from a certain someone else. First, though— ]
You come here often?
[ Yuri never having seen her here doesn't mean anything. They may simply not have ever visited at the same time. ]
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i'm sorry!! inbox threads get put in a different filter i guess
picks up a grumpy blue guardian like simba
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backdated slightly so its not quite as pre-oracle
But... there is one thing she does need to do. Not just for her, even though a selfish part of her did think that perhaps... perhaps it could be appreciate another way, but primarily for her potential usefulness during any upcoming missions. So-]
Good morning, Yuri.
Are you available for a consult?
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Good morning, Hayame.
[ He hastens to respond. Don't mind anything he might've mistakenly shared in his overfocus. ]
I've got time. What am I consulting on?
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Clothing.
[She will just get to the point, then. (Without... explaining good.)]
I am in need of clothing for a two-legged woman. Preferably the sort that will disguise one's face and features.
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Well then, you've called on the right man.
[ A shrewd move, he'd like to say, but he doesn't know whether she'd take it as the praise be intends. ]
I can think of a shop that should fit the bill.
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omg comes to wrap this a million years later im sorry