The world as they know it - OPEN

[apprenticemusketeer]

When the power comes back on, d'Artagnan imagines that he can hear the collective sounds of glee of those around him who are used to such things. When the power had gone out, he had been amused to say the least, at the various reactions he'd witnessed. Some had even expressed the sentiment that they couldn't live without it.

Hopefully, they survived.

d'Artagnan has been fine, for what it's worth, though he has found it finally necessary to get different clothes. His heavy leather garb has proved unwieldy in the hot summer weather. This is how he finds himself at something called a "store," looking at modern clothing with a mix of amusement and complete befuddlement. Everything seems so ... tight.

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[apprenticemusketeer]

Following a few steps behind, d'Artagnan is smiling, aroused and smitten. Enough that he will try this on for her. "Do I need trousers as well, then?" he asks, his smile crooked. "As to make sure that all the clothing seems to go together?"

[sempreborgia]

"Well you certainly cannot be naked from the waist down, not in public anyway." She teases him with a coy glance in his direction.

She picks up a pair of the pants that she's seen so many other men wear here. Jeans, they're called. But she doesn't know that. She hands them to d'Artagnan and then plucks another pair, canvas cargo pants. The pockets might come in useful. She hands them to d'Artagnan as well.

"Try those. See if they're to your liking." She says.

[apprenticemusketeer]

They weigh hardly anything and d'Artagnan eyes them with distrust, even as he is walking toward the room to try things on.

Of course, he has a good deal of clothing to get out of, but he can do it on his own, stripping down to his braies and fastening the tunic and then the trousers (hardly trousers, more like some kind of strange legging made of stiff muslin).

He gazes at himself in the mirror and shakes his head before going out to show Lucrezia. He holds his arms out to his sides, his smile crooked as well. What does she think?

[sempreborgia]

Lucrezia patiently waits outside, looking over some shoes to go with her new dress, something of which the salesperson is all too happy to help with. She's already picked some out and the saleslady has taken them and her dress to the front to bag them up when the dressing room door opens.

She smiles and walks toward d'Artagnan, taking the sight of him in from afar and then closer and closer and closer. Until she can slip up on her toes and kiss that adorably crooked smile.

"I think you look quite different, and not in an unpleasant way." She says. "You're very handsome, my love. How do you feel?"

[apprenticemusketeer]

"Strange," he admits. Under-dressed certainly. He tugs st the tunic, so much tighter and less voluminous than what he's used to. He shifts his legs a bit, feeling the material seem to hug tightly. He does think he looks like those in this place, though. "Handsome, eh?" Is Lucrezia sure?

[sempreborgia]

Strange is the definition for so many thing here in Itinere from the most common of things to the most impossible of them. From the clothes to the way the city itself seems to understand what they want and need and gift it to them so freely. She wonders if clothes such as these will begin to appear in their closets rather than the clothes they are more accustomed to.

"Very handsome." She shifts forward, leaning up once again to kiss at his lips. "But, my love, I believe you could sack cloth and ashes and still be the most handsome of men, turning the eye of every lady you pass by."

[apprenticemusketeer]

"You are flattering me," he accuses fondly, "and you need not, when I would give you everything you wish for simply because you want it." d'Artagnan is not that good looking, not really. He is, of course, not ugly. With his hands resting on Lucrezia's hips, he asks, "shall I take these new garments, then?" He too needs shoes it seems.

[sempreborgia]

"Truth is not flattery, d'Artagnan." She says, fingers tracing down the buttons at the front of his shirt, her pinky slipping in between two of the buttons somewhere around his navel. Nothing about d'Artagnan is less than beautiful, it's true. Anyone who cannot see that has neither eyes nor a heart and soul.

"And our Lord has truly blessed me in sending me here, along with you, so that we can be together." She says, a rare moment of sadness sweeps through her and she lowers her gaze and dips her head. "It is more than I deserve."

She nods, pulling back and looking back up to him with her eyes glistening. "I truly like their fit on you. You should take them."

[apprenticemusketeer]

"Lucrezia ... " d'Artagnan dips his head, brows drawing together in a frown at her words and countenance. More than she deserves? Hardly. His eyes search hers and he touches under her chin to lean in for a kiss.

Whoever made her feel less than will meet the end of his sword some day. He insists upon it.

He shall take the clothes, though, if only because she likes them so.