It seemed the pair were in their normal state of contention, which lead to the reason for the energy that had surrounded them. Fatima was relieved as Xandar patted the top of her head. How silly she had been, getting worked up over nothing. She let out a small laugh as she watched Xandar’s back before turning to Faeril.
“Thank you so very much. I am thrilled to see what we can do.” She reached out to squeeze the woman’s hand before she trotted off back to see Dareen and Jandar.
She approached with a broad smile upon her face.
“Faeril is going to help make me the ugliest of women. I figure that, if I look truly horrifying the Queens will feel less threatened by my presence and perhaps understand why I have not shown myself until now. What thoughts had you?”Jandar patted down his front, removing imaginary lint from his clothes. He looked at Fatima, raising an amused brow.
“Sounds feasible to me. As for me, I’m going for the rich, noble Hayllian merchant. I’ll need your help with the makeup and hairstyle, Fatima,” he stated. Smiling slightly, he added,
“I do hope my clothing and overall appearance is acceptable, at least.” He then gazed at Dareen thoughtfully.
“As Gennar pointed out, I suppose it would be more controversial if she acted as a female pretending to be a male warrior than if she simply presented as a female warrior. In that case, the safer option might still be if she acted as my demure, quiet, shy wife. Or perhaps a servant-girl,” the Warlord shrugged.
Dareen rubbed her chin. It seemed, she thought with mock direness, that her fate was sealed. It would be the safest option to dress up as a non-warrior. Everywhere she went she made waves, and while normally she didn’t mind the accusatory glances cast her way they simply couldn’t afford to draw attention. Not so long ago the idea of even pretending to be someone’s servant or housewife would have been worth unsheathing a hidden blade. But if anyone needed to be knocked down a peg, Dareen thought, it was herself. Besides, she was only alive by the grace of this Black Widow so the least she could do was put on a silly dress.
”I guess so. Like Jandar, I’ll also need just a little bit of help. Just a little. If you don’t mind.” She said, biting her lower lip and smirking. It was one of those situations where it was embarrassing for her, but not humiliating enough for her to not see the humor in the situation. Moreover, it was probably only this funny to Dareen. The Pruulish mercenary was sharing an inside joke with herself, and the joke was at her own expense.
"And a little help with the clothes," she said in a light and teasing tone.
"Mostly correct but I suppose some style differences between here and where you are from. Easy enough to fix!" What confused Fatima was their discussion of Dareen being a female warrior as standing out far too much. It wasn't as if a female warrior was all that unusual. Not exactly common but not so rare either. But perhaps it could be a cause for concern to the Queens. She furrowed her brows as she thought.
After a few moments, she lifted her eyes to Dareen.
"I will not make you do something that makes you uncomfortable. Also, if you are not used to certain things that will become an obvious fault in our farce. I can attempt to teach you to hold yourself with the grace and pomp beaten into me since I was a little girl. But it takes time." Her face showed her concern.
"And I would have to untrain your warrior walk. Do you think you could play the part of a witch who cannot defend herself?"Dareen shrugged, dismissively waving off the well-placed concern. Even though she knew it was well-placed, the last thing Dareen wanted to do was be a burden, or be useless. But as Fatima went on the ex-mercenary once again deflated. Warrior walk? What was that supposed to mean? Dareen unknowingly crossed her arms and stood up straight as she considered this, proving Fatima’s point even further.
”How hard could it be?” She asked. With that, she awkwardly shuffled into a position she thought was aristocratic. Placing a hand on her hip she leaned her weight onto one leg and cocked her head to the side. Then she made eye contact with Fatima with a look that said ‘You probably have your work cut out for you.’
Fatima giggled and placed her fingers against her lips as she watched the young woman.
"Alright, I am absolutely happy to work with you on this. Just an edit to your current disciplined stance. So, are we in agreement? Ugly Queen," she gestured to herself,
"The effortlessly handsome aristo… Cousin to the Ugly Queen." She gestured to Jandar, and finally
"and his beautiful, brand new wife!" She gestured to Dareen.
“That will be some very distant blood-relation indeed if you will go as someone ugly and I as my handsome self,” Jandar snarked, though half-heartedly; more-so to join the banter than due to any real opposition.
“As for the style differences in clothing...well, if you have any way of altering that, it would be perfect,” he added. He did not expressly point out that it was unlikely they would find something better here, but the sentiment was implied in his previous statement.
The Warlord tapped his foot against the floor twice, once again turning to observe Dareen thoughtfully.
“Why does our plan gradually grow worse the more we discuss it?” he bemoaned, sighing. It was a serious concern for him; he couldn’t be as easy-going or playful as the two females surrounding him. He rolled both shoulders, grimacing.
“Nothing about this is simple or easy,” he muttered, staring at the duo.
“Difficult or not,” he began,
“we are just going to have to do it.” He paused, letting that obvious statement sink into their brains.
“Worst case scenario, we take them by surprise, and slaughter through as many of them as we can,” he hissed, snarling. Soon after, he chuckled a morbid, dark sound.
“Just keep in mind that that would surely be a suicidal attack,” he drawled, tone still savage. It was partly an attempt at dark humor, partly a show of his frustration - and also, a warning to Fatima or Dareen that there was real danger where they were planning to tread; just in case they’ve truly forgotten.
Dareen looked at Fatima and wobbled her head from side to side, silently mocking Jandar’s grim attitude.
”He used to be so light-hearted. Sometimes I wonder what happened to the man I married.” She said, shaking her head sadly. Dareen then smiled cheekily.
”I, for one, think our terrible plan is going to work flawlessly. Fatima the Ugly, first of her line, if you think you can turn us, poor vagrants, into nobility, then I trust you.” The Pruulish woman said with faux grandiosity. Cracking her neck and rolling her wrists, Dareen was eager to get started. Anything was better than standing around and waiting for something to happen. If she was going to do this, might as well get it over with.
”I mean, I’m ready to start.”As Jandar spoke her stomach rolled with nerves. He spoke of slaughtering a town - perhaps as a joke but it told of his state of mind. She frowned and worry for him creased her brow. She reached out a hand and touched the cloth of his shirt before she became distracted with the Pruulish woman's antics.
She laughed with real mirth at Dareen.
"Of course, we'll start right away. There is an awful lot to do." She looked up at Jandar, a gentle smile on her face, but the worry had not left her entirely.
"Everything is what we make it. I believe in us, we can do this. I know you're worried, but if you let it eat at you, the more you invite doubt, the more likely it manifests." She took his hand in hers and pressed a kiss to the back of it before releasing him.
"Be brave and believe in us too."Jandar exhaled harshly, looking down at Fatima. His frown receded, replaced by a jagged smile.
“I won’t show hesitation or worry, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head.
“I am certain I will hate those people. But it’s irrelevant,” he replied. He was about to tell her not to concern herself with him, but cut his reply short as he realized how very hypocritical uttering that would be. Instead, he squared his shoulders and braced himself, so that his smile didn’t look all that strained anymore.
“I believe we can prepare well enough,” he added, but left it at that. He couldn’t completely banish his negative emotions, but when it came to it, he could control them and channel them into his act. though he didn’t show it, the Queen holding his hand - and kissing it, of all things - felt more on the side of awkward rather than comforting for him, but Jandar knew the intention behind it, so he could more easily accept it.
Fatima turned her attention back to Dareen and asked,
"Can you sew?"Dareen thought Fatima probably had a better method of soothing the fears of Jandar. She was tactful and socially intelligent. At the question, Dareen was expecting to once again expecting to profess her utter incompetence, but the Pruulish woman was pleasantly surprised at what she was asked.
”Yes, actually.” She said.
”I’m technically a professional tailor, since my- uh, well, the people I traveled with couldn’t. So they paid me.” She stammered a bit. Neither Jandar nor Fatima knew anything of Dareen’s past so she wanted to keep as much of it hidden as possible. For now. It was clear Dareen was about to make another joke but it had sputtered mid-sentence.
”Why do you ask?” Dareen asked quickly.
"Oh that is amazing! We'll need to fix up some of my dresses so that they may fit you." Fatima was aglow with the prospect of proper help on this end.
"It will save us time to do it together. More time to teach you high-class lady things." She laughed genially before producing three dresses that she was willing to sacrifice for the cause.
"Shall we begin?"Dareen gave a small shrug.
”Sure- I’m pretty sure I know my measurements.” It had been a little while since she had summoned her sewing kit.
”Thanks for help, again. What about you, Jandar? You sew?” She kneeled down and picked up one of the dresses, holding it up to her neck. It was of course preposterously undersized.
Jandar scrunched his nose.
“I do not sew,” he said, the tone of his voice lofty with disdain, though he kept a curious eye on the women as they worked. Dareen looked back at Fatima and frowned haughtily. He observed silently for a few minutes, then suddenly proclaimed,
“I will go as Johan Rentrick. You will temporarily share that last name, so get familiarized with it, wife,” he tasted the word as if getting used with it - which he was. The Warlord wondered if he should think of some affectionate terms to call Dareen by. Though, she and the Queen both needed their own aliases first.
“Think of a first name that’s similar to your current one, so you won’t get mixed up. Fatima, you too. We need to disguise every possible aspect of our identity.””Easy enough,” Dareen commented, sitting on a stone and working her calloused fingers quite dexterously. Fatima chose to sit upon the ground, skirts spread around her as she took scissors to fabric.
”Ranina’s my fake name. Ranina Rentrick. She likes wearing...blue. That’s the one we’re going with, right Fatima?” She asked, holding up the piece of fabric between the needle. With a swoop, she stitched together the seam they had needed to adjust to get it around her shoulders that were much bulkier than the person they were made for.
"Ranina is gorgeous! I love it. And it can be whatever you like! If not is her favorite, perhaps she wears it for her husband." Her tone took on a teasing quality and her eyes glittered with mischief that had lain dormant the last day or so.
"I think Helena will be my stage name for this act. Lovely and simple for an ugly girl child."Dareen smirked and shook her head lightly at Fatima. She’d never done anything for a husband in her life. The Pruulish witch lived the life of a bachelorette. They were making fast progress on the blue dress. Dareen clicked her tongue against her teeth.
”Man- if we go to the tavern I won’t be able to drink any ale. I haven’t had a mug in weeks, either.” She frowned, setting her hands in her lap for a moment.
”Well, fuck it. I don’t need beer. Maybe when all this is over. Well wait, I mean, am I going to have to go out in public like this forever now? How long do we have to keep these disguises up?” After a moment she shook her head, chastising herself a little. Fatima set aside her scissors to pick up needle and thread. Her face barely registered her surprise at the sudden outburst from Dareen. She was used to swearing, it was not as if it offended her ‘delicate sensibilities.’ She had not expected the suddenness of it.
”Guess it doesn’t really matter. We’re enemies of the fuckin’ state.” Now a little more at ease the woman apparently began to slip back into her old swearing habits. While she wasn’t looking forward to the days ahead this was the first time in a long time she had felt comfortable in someone else’s company, if only temporarily.
Jandar rolled his eyes, exasperated and impatient.
“We will most likely use these particular guises just for this town, though if they prove effective and are ever needed again, we may as well use them,” he said. With a twist of his lips, he added a growling admonishment,
“And for Mother Darkness’s sake, cease your swearing and alcoholic tendencies. The more you resist now, the more likely you are to slip up later. I suggest you practice by seriously adopting your role as soon as possible,” the Warlord directed, cooly watching the witch. He personally didn’t have a problem with her personality, but right now, he saw her as the one least likely able to conform to the role she was supposed to play.
Fatima looked between the two as she felt the tension in the air coil tightly. She chewed her lower lip, wondering if she would need to defuse the situation. Going undercover like this could be very stressful. Lies were difficult to keep up.
Dareen nodded, but then pointed a needle at Jandar only using her fingers.
”Hey,” she began,
”I’m not an alcoholic. I just enjoy a good drink now and then, like anyone. Ranina, on the other hand, she’s a high functioning alcoholic. She keeps it from Johan, though, only drinking when she is alone. It’s eating her up on the inside, but such is the life of a noblewoman.” She stuck her tongue into one of her cheeks and then glanced back down at her dress, making sure everything was going alright. Jandar was right, but he was also starting to get annoying with all his cynicism.
Was that how Dareen saw noblewomen? Despondent alcoholics who pined away their days? Alright... so she wasn't completely wrong and Fatima had to bite her cheek from giggling out loud. A mirthful sound might not be welcomed at this juncture. Taking his advice, though, with a grain of salt, Dareen straightened her back and put her lower lip into a pout. Fatima had to bow her head low over her sewing and her whole body trembling as she fought the urge for laughter.
Jandar raised a doubtful brow, smirking slightly.
“And whyever would poor, fragile, beloved Ranina need to resort to her drinks?” he queried, curious if Dareen had put thought in the story or if she was improvising - either could be good, depending on her storytelling and acting ability.
Dareen briefly held a piece of string in her teeth as she maneuvered her needles. Taking it out, she replied,
” The same reason she has enough time to drink it in the first place. Johan is never home. How tragic,” She remarked with faux-glibness. She wasn’t sure if she was actually going to use any of this stuff but it was fun to make things up. Especially to get a reaction out of Jandar, whatever it may be.
The corners of Jandar’s lips twitched, eyes glimmering with humor.
“And perhaps I was more observant than my wife has given me credit, which is precisely the reason I decided on this extravagant honeymoon,” he concluded. He lifted both eyebrows and slightly spread out his hands in a mock ‘see, aren’t I so great’ gesture, then cocked his head to the side as he gazed straight into Dareen’s eyes.
“We will need to appear casually intimate and used to each other’s presence - nothing scandalous, not to worry. Aristocrats prefer to appear controlled. Nonetheless, it may not be amiss for us to practice walking and sitting next to each other, at the very least,” he suggested. Gazing pointedly at the duo’s dress-up activities, he pointedly added,
“Whenever the ladies are finished, of course,” with a drawl.
Dareen raised her eyebrows at Jandar and put a hand to her chest in shock at his thoughtfulness. Then she listened as he made more suggestions. Right. Dareen just had to slip in the role. Who knows how stuck up these nobles were? With even a little bit of failed acting rumors may start to spread like wildfire. Or worse, just straight up seeing through their disguise.
”Very well, my love,” She responded casually, her voice losing some of its inherent roughness. Then she looked between the two people next to her as if to say ‘how was that?’ Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. Though as this dress grew closer and closer to completion the idea of actually putting it on in public became less appealing. Thank Mother Darkness her old comrades couldn’t see her now.
Jandar simply nodded in response, and as he continued to observe her, worked to soften his gaze. For a while, this would be someone he loved. Not just a lover, but a wife. Presumably, also a dear friend. Someone worthy of his attention, and moreover, his protection. Yes, there was also the obvious business benefits, but why not some earnest emotion as well? Mutual loyalty could be quite beneficial after all...The Warlord nodded once again, mostly to himself. Yes, this could work.
Their discourse had turned playful and Fatima relaxed. She was pleased to see them finding humor in the situation.
"I'll leave you to finish up the sewing. Jandar, let me fix up your hair and what have you. I'll need you to come down." Standing she brushed the back of her dress to remove any bits of dirt or nature that might have taken purchase there. She approached the man, manifesting a comb in her hand.
"Dareen, when you speak your tone should be of unaffected coolness. And soften and quiet your words. Speak as if your words are a cloud. A gift to any who would hear them." As she spoke she demonstrated what she meant. Each word was carefully and lovingly pronounced as if she lined them in gold foil and pearls while they floated delicate and feathery from her mouth.
Dareen shook her head, chuckling a little.
”Yes, of course. Indubitably. You should be lucky to even hear me speak,” She waved her hand dramatically in the air as she talked before bringing it back down to the knitting. Almost done- just the last part before the dress would fit the mercenary. It didn’t look half bad as far as dresses went. Even though the category of clothing known as dresses were a farce to begin with. As far as her voice went, Dareen put on a little bit too much smarminess. Realizing this, she said the same sentence again mimicking Fatima as much as possible. Ranina’s voice was starting to come to life.
Jandar hummed in agreement, and relocated into the carriage, choosing to sit on one of the benches. He really didn’t want to ruin his trousers, after all. He sat patiently, waiting for Fatima to join him and work her magic. She came around to him and began to pull the comb through his locks. Her fingers helped gently release any tangles and her fingernails lightly brushing over his scalp. She manifested a bottle of oil, masculine and earthy in scent. She rubbed some onto her palms before dragging her hands through his hair again. She let the oil sit for a bit in his hair as she began work on editing minor bits to his clothing and began the process of light make-up to his face. She finished off the look by adding some thin braids subtly woven into his hair.
Jandar was still but pliant under Fatima’s touch, letting the Queen turn his head this way and that as she worked. The brief scalp massage was rather pleasant, and it relieved him of some of the tension that had been a near-constant presence since they had begun to plan their venture. Having make-up applied was unpleasant, but it was not nearly the first time he had it done. Fatima was rather proficient with it, he noted. The speed was one thing, and, when he observed himself in a summoned hand-mirror, the quality was excellent. If someone had met him only once before, it was unlikely they would recognize him. The Warlord waited some more for his clothes to be adjusted; it was nothing major the Queen did, but the small details somehow managed to give him an entirely different look.
So this is the fashion here, he thought curiously.
Once done, he stood up, admiringly brushing a hand over his apparel.
“Thank you,” he acknowledged Fatima’s efforts sincerely. He didn’t just mean the craftsmanship either, but rather her support in general.
”You are most welcome!” The Warlord then stepped back outside, and approached Dareen. Fatima was not far behind him.
Upon seeing Jandar return, nodded her head slowly and elegantly.
”Nonetheless, the plan is I speak as little as possible,” she said, still in her new noble voice. It was pretty hard to talk this way. How did people do this for all their lives?
He gave her a light, graceful bow.
“Your new husband, Johan Rentrick, my lady,” he introduced, all smoothly honeyed words, a carelessly light tone.
“Yes, you are a reticent one,” he continued, as dignified as he’d begun. He supported the idea that she’d speak as little as possible; as he had when they’d first decided on it.
“If finding that desired level of detachment is difficult to do consistently, try and imagine being in an altered state of mind, shall we say,” he winked at Dareen, certain she’d understand - though less sure she would be entirely unoffended by the implication.
“Without the pesky speech-slurring and ridiculousness, of course,” he chuckled lightly.
Dareen furrowed her eyebrows, tilted her head to the side and gave Jandar a curious and bemused smile. Then she feigned offense and looked away, down at the dress in front of her.
”I don’t know what you could mean,” She said with a shake of her head. Rising to her feet, she held out the newly modified dress in front of her. With an embarrassed smirk, she glanced over at Fatima.
”So...we gonna do this?” She asked.
"Of course my lady, this way." Fatima gave her best, graceful bow as she made a sweeping gesture toward the carriage.
