Beneath the stains of time.

Tic watched after Miraye as she left down the gravel road, the blood still visible on her dress’s back. She disappeared around a corner, leaving him standing in the middle of the street. Slowly, he turned himself to survey the street, gazing at the array of shops that lined it. The shops stood next to each other, some without alleyways in between, each bearing different signs and decorated fronts. His eyes passed from one end of the street to the other end, until they stopped at a building with garments displayed in one of its windows. A broad sign hung above the door, with a single word etched deeply into its wood. “Tailor,” it read in bold, black, capital letters.

He looked warily over his shoulder for a moment, searching for someone to assure him, but then proceeded towards the shop. Stopping in front of it, he looked into the window to see the clothing on display. The outfits were of dark colors, mostly, except for one. A purely white, loose tunic with a blue neckline, blue bordering on the sleeves, a hood, and a heavy, dark grey, long-sleeved shirt to be worn inside of it. Finally certain that this was the right place to be, he stepped inside.

A small bell jingled at the top of the door, signaling those inside that someone had entered the shop. And those that were inside were very little, in fact, just one: a woman, who stood, turned away from the door, making adjustments to an outfit that hung from a rack. Tic walked further inside, after taking a glance at his surroundings; fabrics of all sorts that lay on tables, sat on shelves, along with articles of clothing hanging from stands, on the walls, and on sewing machines. The entire shop was a single, large room, whose dustiness could not be mistaken for bad service. The woman remained with her back turned, seemingly unmoved by the sounds. Her dark dress revealed some of her back through the black laces.

Tic walked until he stood just feet behind the woman, pausing to see whether his presence would stir her or he would have to speak. It seemed all too much to be the latter, and he parted his lips, speaking softly.

“Excuse me.”

The woman turned her head, her hands hanging in mid-air, a look of surprise upon her elegantly-formed features. “Oh!” she said, lowering her hands and turning herself to face him. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She looked as if about to say something else, but paused, staring at the boy for a moment. The blood and dirt had remained on his clothing, despite his washing, which seemed to alarm her. She spoke again, a look of hesitance in her golden eyes.

“Can I… help you with something?”

Tic looked down for a moment at the stained sleeves of his outfit, lifting them slightly. “Well…”

“Are you looking for some clothes?” she asked, her voice as smooth as a gentle ocean wave.

He nodded twice.

“You’ve come to the right place, then,” she said, smiling at him. Her lips were painted red, and she had stunningly long black hair. It draped around her face like a thin lion’s mane, and she brought a finger to her cheek, pushing the strands of hair behind her ear. Tic stared at the woman, feeling an odd sense of familiarity, and then she spoke again, pulling him from his awe.

“Do you have anything in mind?”

Tic turned his glance towards the window for just seconds, then back to the woman’s elegant face, shaking his head slightly. “No,” he spoke softly, lying. He had no money; the clothing looked too expensive for someone to trust him with.

The woman’s eyes moved to the window, seeing where Tic’s glance had been. When she looked back to him, her fingers slid beneath his chin, lifting his head upwards. There was a prolonged silence as she peered at him, and he, naturally, began to feel uncomfortable.

“Your eyes would look nice in white,” she finally spoke. He didn’t say anything.

The woman made her way past him and towards the window. She took the white tunic and grey shirt from its hanger, and then moved to search through a pile of garments on a nearby table. Out of it, she pulled a pair of grey-brown pants, and carried the clothing over her arm back towards Tic. She put the garments in his hands. “Try them on,” she whispered with a half a nod.

Tic’s eyes were searching dumbly for a place to change when he felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder guide him to the back of the shop. To his relief, she took him into a vacant room with a door at its entrance, separate from the main room of the shop. She looked at him with a smile, “My name is Verisa, and if you need anything, just call for me,” and she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Tic waited a few moments in the silence, watching the door as if He or someone were staring down at him through it, and proceeded to shed his clothes.

The white tunic fit snugly over the dark grey shirt, falling across his shoulders and waist loosely, just as he liked it. The pants, with large pockets on their sides, reached just below his ankles, though a little loose at the waist. He stared at himself in the mirror that hung on the wall, straightening out any deformities. The outfit fit him perfectly, but he didn’t care; he just wanted to be out of what Larkin had dressed him in. With his old, stained clothes in his arms, he pressed open the door and walked back into the shop.

Verisa was back at one of her outfits, making measurements with a long piece of marked cord. She turned her head when she heard the click of the door, and smiled as Tic walked out towards her. “Very nice,” she said. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” he said, almost automatically. “I’ll take it,” he added.

“Good.” She turned, gesturing for him to follow. They walked to a dark wooden counter that stood at the side of the room. Verisa stood behind it, pulled a key from the necklace around her neck and unlocked a drawer. She pulled out a brown sack, counted something on her fingers, and looked up to Tic. “That’ll be eight gold pieces,” she said with a soft smile.

Tic looked down, his stomach churning. “I.. don’t have the money.. right now,” he looked up, “but I promise to repay you within a week.”

Her smile faded slightly, and she shifted her eyes downwards to the sack, removing it from the counter and replacing it in the drawer. After locking it, she placed her palms on the countertop, thinking for a moment. She lifted her eyes after the few seconds of silence, smiled, and spoke.

“Well,” she leaned in over the counter towards Tic, “If you leave your clothes with me, I’m sure I can get those stains out. You won’t have to pay me back.” She moved the black locks of hair from in front of her face behind her ear again, and her golden eyes gleamed.

Tic paused, looking down to the clothes in his arms. He placed the garments on the counter. “Thank you,” he said, bowing his head slightly, hiding the faint burn in his cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, folding her arms against the counter.

Tic smiled gently, and moved towards the entrance. As he reached for the door, he heard Verisa speak out to him.

“And please, do try to be careful out there.”

He nodded, put his hood on and walked out into the drizzling rain.