[img]http://i.imgur.com/2uDBgEK.png[/img]

[b][u]Aliquam: The Tailor’s[/u][/b]

Her eyes looked over the entirety of the shop, absorbing the richness and refinery that was everywhere to look at. The crisp, perfect suits and sparkling, gorgeous dresses were all a bit too much for a simple girl like Estelle to really feel comfortable with, but the time in which she had spent wearing some dresses like this, like in Vandrell… felt nice. But even then, the attire she had worn that fateful night had been a lot more subdued then anything that was on offer here. With the type of party that was being held; a party amongst aristocratic students, potentially in the hundreds, its clothing demands were in a separate league to that of the more humble and restricted party of the Hawthorne’s. This gala would demand nothing less then absolute perfection… and it frightened Estelle. How could she possibly fit into a place like that? 

She still wanted to do her best, if only for Marcus’ sake, but… she suddenly really wished that Selan and Lisette were here, Selan in particular. She’d know exactly what to do and what dress, make up and accessories would suit her. Lily might have had a keen eye for appearance, but Selan would have gotten the perfect dress for Estelle on a more intimate level that reflected her personality and character. She sighed. She hoped her friends were doing alright. 

“Um, Amy?” Estelle walked up to and softly nudged the blonde cleric’s arm, bashfully looking up into her emerald eyes as she turned around. Even though Selan wasn’t there, she still had Amy, who managed to always look beautiful and serene and near perfect (when she wasn’t scowling, overindulging in drink or slapping off men’s faces). Maybe she had an eye for fashion, and maybe she didn’t, but after all the times in which she looked stunning, if there was someone who could help Estelle, it was her. “Could you help me pick a dress, please?”

[img]http://i.imgur.com/8mPMSWF.png[/img]

“Hey Marcus,” Lute approached the wind mage, his exasperated face sighing heavily. “Do you think there’s a chance I can back out now? I kinda feel a little sick.”

Marcus turned back, after buckling up the last of his shirt’s cuffs and straightening out his crisp waistcoat, laughing back towards Lute as he smoothened his ensemble out and threw his suit's jacket on. 

“I know how you feel, Lute,” Marcus began, with a smile he hoped would seem sympathetic to his friend. “I don’t particularly feel comfortable around these types of events at all. They’re not my scene at all, and somewhere I don’t belong.”

Lute just looked back with an expression of disbelief as he saw Marcus continue to fine-tune his outfit and hair in such a way that suggested years worth of experience. He hadn’t even needed to request Lily or anyone else’s help, and had picked out a suit that was not only the perfect fit, but perfect appearance for him, and did so within no time at all. There was modesty, and then there was…

“But this is for Dylan and his sister,” Marcus reaffirmed with a nod. “And who knows, it might even be fun. Maybe you’ll get to dance with a pretty woman, Lute.” He laughed, before inspecting and even rubbing down parts of Lute's suit to smoothen it out. "You look good, by the way. White suits you. Don would certainly be impressed."