Robbed of a long anticipated rest, the slumber Neoh had delved into with joyous intent, a pair of large, obisidan orbs opened to meet a familiar face. With a slight twitch, Neoh eventually sneezed, the grass tickling his skin managing its purpose all too well. Wiping his face with a groan, the boy moved a pair of dainty hands towards his eyes where they proceeded to gently rub their dark shape. "Bleh..," came an adequately philosophical statement from the young lad, his vision adjusting to see none other than his most significant friend. His twin brother, in blood and spirit, alike. "Dearest kin of mine," Neoh began, his back meeting the grass-covered ground once more, "perish the thought! Foresight blessed deft fingers, and I turned towards experimental fabric!"
Indeed, the Dapper clothing line was known for taking risky, and rewarding leaps in clothing technology. Fabric which rejected spots, where they were easily wiped off to present a pristine surface warranted eccentric anticipation from a rowdy public. Equally so, the Dapper series of clothes were currently working on adding a layer of protection to their fabric. One could only imagine the lives saved when ordinary attires offered a human body the chance for life, in the face of an otherwise deadly wound. Of course, stretching this to projectiles along the lines of bullets, and similar arts of destruction was a fantasy. However, knives could very well be thwarted, and most certainly stains.
"Complaints find themselves vacant, and I do belive that we can start shipping these to the masses." Neoh continued, tapping his fingers against warm, comfortable grass. "The regenerating mesh is more difficult to work with, however," a sigh managed its way through Neoh's slender lips. "As if a battle, dear brother! It opposes me at every turn! I will subject it to the torture of ages, mark my words!"
Clearing his throat, the boy eventually rose from where he had been laying, elbows taking the role of a pleasant lean. Miles did not much care for his younger brother's infatuated addiction to tailoring, though pointing towards the more exotic material he ever so often worked with could perhaps sing another tune. "And how fare you, my dear brother?" The theatrical boy leaned in for a playful kiss to his brother's cheek. At times, one could ask if Neoh had roots in the passionate country of Italy, more so than England. "A new arrival has made himself known, but alas, it shifted into quite a dull performance." Neoh sighed, shaking his head, "Arrowcaster finds himself handing our script to just about any actor willing speak a line, with half-hearted delivery," the teenager shook his head. "A shame, truly."
Shifting the subject matter entirely, without a moment's pause, Neoh continued to speak. He had changed the scene, and while others would perhaps consider the shift an oddity worthy of note, Miles was far too familiar with his sibling's antics. "I desire the company of a dog, Miles. Let's initiate an adventure and procure for me a canine companion, whom I shall name Momo, in honor of a sassy woman, from a TV show, in which I have gleefully indulged."
