(IC) comment on the above oc's fashion sense

Guys, please don't let Sanguine drink, he'll flirt with another boomer 99% of the time. Spoiled for possible length!

Sanguine rambles about morality and love for 787 words. Spoiled for length!

Brown didn't need to know that this fellow, who had been visiting her and attempting to befriend her for who-knows-how-long at this point, had flirted with her lover and attempted to ask him out on a date. Did it even matter, though? She probably wouldn't have cared that much anyhow, and yet...

She couldn't help but raise a brow at the middle-aged man upon hearing the request... About fashion sense. Why he had to bring it up when he had focused so much on murder (an actually interesting subject for her, what a shocker) previously did certainly raise a few red flags for her, but the aristocrat was quick to shake that vague miasma of suspicion off. After all, she never exactly trusted men in the first place, let alone those who kissed up to her for whatever fucking reason, so... Maybe it was just that. Maybe she was just tense.

"Well, I know that you seem like a relatively dapper fellow now, yes?" the aristocrat finally mused aloud after an extensive silence from her part, during which she just adjusted the position of her cushions and poured herself a cup of coffee, "And dapper fellows are usually... Respectable, for the most part. There is always an air of pretentious bullshit that surrounds them, but they are respectable a lot of the time. It just sort of depends on what exactly they represent, because a suit and tie really reveals little when you're dealing with the upper classes and that type of shit. It's why the aristocrats around here wear cloaks, rather than suits. Suits, in other words, are bourgeois."

Which was probably a thinly veiled insult considering that Brown was an elitist. Eugh.

With a flutter of her lashes, Brown continued to sniff, "But maybe they can provide a coverup for that business you run..." She then paused, her nose turning up slightly as she carefully lifted the cup up to her lips. "... Or is it something else?" the aristocrat coolly inquired before taking a sip. Sure, the question was meant to be rhetorical, but... Damn. "It's okay if it is. Everyone has their secrets, hidden by plain clothes and unassuming demeanors for the most part. Hell, if my image weren't plastered in the media so often, I think you would have been shocked to figure out that someone as dainty-looking as myself killed her husband, then several other men."

"But I cannot judge either," she hummed, "I am sure that I might be fooling myself right now, but... You know..." She coughed into her sleeve. "I'm certainly not infallible if I managed to take in a lover, several not-children, and perhaps a few associates within my inner circle..." All of which she relayed casually, yet still with a reserved air, before the aristocrat leaned back in her recliner and fluttered her lashes.

"... All in spite of the fact that yes, it is true that I'm a brutal monster at heart. There is no use denying or trying to redeem that. You could be the same, or perhaps the opposite. At least you don't remind me of a pretentious aristocrat or a certain roguish rapscallion. You might as well be a new type of man, a new type of prick altogether." She chuffed and lifted up her cup of coffee with a smooth smile. "Take it as a compliment. I think I'm getting soft because I am old anyhow. Be grateful that I didn't use my bird to claw your face off a long time ago."

   - Brown after seeing that fossil, knowing that getting back into that alliance with Nathaniel is going to cause her to go into another existential crisis on whether she should vibe with Nath for fossils or be fully loyal to Roswell and hate the edgy fish.

With ease, Nathaniel kept up with Brown. It had stopped snowing a day prior and all that remained was trampled gunk. That splattered if you'd step in it. Leaving gunk-marks all over the two.
"The decorating of the Old Chapel is going smoothly. Or so I've heard," the shipper said as he walked beside the smaller aristocrat.
"When was that charity gala again? Tomorrow right?" Nathaniel asked. In an interrogative tone that almost sounded genuine. Almost.
"Oof! Void knows if I get my one good jacket steamed on time," he said. A smile is audible in his voice. "I can't be seen at that party without it,' he said. Before laughing. "It would be quite the scandal. Don't you think?" the harpooner asked her. He was clearly sarcastic. As a Zeewolf (let alone it's leader!) in the Old-Chapel would make for a bigger scandal than any jacket ever could.

"You're a sharp-dressed little pup," Nathaniel continued. He gave Brown a disarming smile, as his gaze went over her outfit. The mink-fur, the heavy coat. A dress and hiker-shoes. "Extravagant."
His eyes kept resting on the mink-fur. Almost as he missed something. The Half couldn't feel the remnants of that warmth-trinket… Right?
Nathanial's ear twitched. He then smiled.
"But I don't think that you agreed to come all the way down here to talk about fashion. Besides, clothing is something the rich discuss between themselves. It's not on me to point out that you, maybe, want to reconsider your shoe-choices. Though," Nathaniel paused. Only to drag the conversation on. "They are quite handy with this snow and mud." He paused again. Then shook his head with a dismissive gesture.
"I got you something. Besides my fashion-advice " Nathaniel said. As he reached for his oil-jacket. He plucked out a small, leather-wrapped package from his inner pocket and held it out to Brown.

"It's what you ordered," he said with a sheepish grin.
"Something fossily. The stumps of a tailbone if I recall correctly," Nathaniel said. He waved the package in her direction. As if he was holding a treat in front of a dog's face.
"It was hard to get my hand on. Had to break some fingers," Nathaniel said. He fully displayed his sharp teeth, in some kind of 'smile'.
"But it felt  good to be back in the fossil trade." Break some bones to get some bones am I, right fellows.

--

a new person approaches Nate. Nate: 

"Oh, if I have to be honest with you, I'm certainly not down on my luck!" Louis chirped in his usual cheerful pomp, though there was that... Surprisingly uncertain trill that permeated through the positively connoted diction, as he continued, "I mean... I'm one of the most respected individuals - no, writers, if I want to be more accurate - around this region! I'm married to the love of my life and have a family to call my own. I can't just be seen as a fool, mm?"

Never mind the fact that said wife was always so cold with him, in spite of his "undying love" for her, and his son was going through his teenage edgy phase at the very young age of twenty years old. Oh, and his daughter - the crown jewel - was going to die eventually- Not that he knew the latter.

Louis puffed himself out like a pigeon, before staking to circle around the other and humming, "But I'll make one thing clear: even if you're potentially trying to hire me for the wrong purposes, I'll be the first to admit that you're a rather dapper-looking fellow now, mm? That top hat of yours..." He paused to gesture at the hat adorning the other party's head. "... It represents the peak of contemporary fashion. I'm sure plenty of rich folks would kill to have such a respectable outfit, mm?"

Louis included, actually. Sure, he wasn't exactly rich by any means... At least not compared to his friend, but...

The middle-aged man sucked down whatever envy he had brewing within him. He wasn't rich, but he wasn't poor either. Maybe he could count himself lucky that he didn't have to wear rags on a daily basis. Cotton and wool were nothing like fur or silk, but at least it wasn't burlap. The other party's fabric didn't look like burlap, and Louis could commend him for it; in fact, he was pretty sure that it looked a bit too much like silk...

Just wait until he found out that shit like polyester and nylon existed.

His posture still puffed out a bit too conspicuously, Louis churred, "Perhaps that's just part of the reason that you command so much respect now, yes? You don't only act like a leader, but you look like a leader too!" Louis skipped a step, his feet fluttering just a bit while in the air. Show off. "So, I presume," hummed the middle-aged man, "though I may not be an employee of yours, I can see myself as an, uh, equal now... Yes?" That was the first time Louis's momentum faltered, as he came to a standstill and grinned a bit sheepishly. Well then...

I'll do a follow-up for NP if I have the time!!

Olivia batted her thick eyelashes, allowing her lips to purse at the college student in front of her. Her floppy ears slightly twitched as the younger party spoke. After she paused to rub her finger against her chin, she slightly pushed it up, allowing her jowls to fold upwards.

"You know, I'm pretty flattered that you decided to come to me for advice. I mean, I've only started making clothing recently—and for the lower class. Hm, let me see what I can do for your little film..."

After Olivia finished speaking, she twirled around on her feet—pausing to regain her balance when she almost stumbled—and began sashaying towards her desk.

"Now, one thing that's important to things like these—at least, in my own opinion—is what your main characters are wearing. They're going to need something that makes them stand out from the crowd," the canine opined, allowing her fingers to wriggle around as she spoke. After she paused to examine Aiden, she lifted up a finger and pointed at him.

"Something like that," she stated, allowing her lips to curl up while she continued to gesture at his outfit.

"It's recognizable, it makes you stand out from the crowd. That would be lovely. Though, it should be something that's...not too flashy." After cocking an eyebrow, the elder party turned around, brushing her bangs out of her eyes as she did so.

"Anyways, what do you have in mind specifically?"

Oh God, Fulvous is here to be a bitch to people again. I’m so sorry.

“So… You’re a goddamn fashion designer, you say?” they barked at the wolf. “Your clothes sure as hell don’t make you look like it! You look the same as everyone else on the streets if you wear that shit. In my eyes, fashion is all about standing the fuck out! A supervillain can’t look the same like everyone else, because the civilians aren’t super like them! If you have a unique fashion, everyone will recognize you and you’ll have fans who adore you and your villainous deeds, as well as enemies who hate you and want to stop you, but get crushed with all of your evil plans!” They laughed, then twirled around, allowing their lab coat to flutter around. “See! Like me! If anybody looks at me, they’ll think, “Oh, that’s the evil Dr. Fulvous!” What will they think of you? What fashions will make them recognize you, Olivia? Average shit that every motherfucker wears, or super fashionable things that make you stand out? I love steampunk style, but maybe something different, but still unique, would make you stand the fuck out! Of course, no regular outfit could ever be as great as a supervillain’s outfit, like mine, but keep that in mind, Ms. Fashion Designer bitch!”

Fulvous stared at the scientist for a long time with a scowl on their face. How dare she insult the clothing of their wonderful craft of villainy? Wait, was that meant to be an insult? Either way, Fulvous didn’t like it. “It’s not ‘dress-up’! Its use is to strike fear into the hearts of my enemies and help people recognize that I’m evil! To be damn honest, I’m not sure if you’re trying to compliment or insult me, either way, fuck you.” I’m so sorry for them.

^ "That's okay," Adeline responds gently, "it was both."

Adeline took an audibly deep breath before broaching this. "You could afford to tone it down a little." Understatement... Adeline, who had experience regularly avoiding being called a mad scientist, found looking at Fulvous at an entirely embarrassing experience. "The lab coat and the goggles do leave an impact, but... You don't seem to have a reason to be wearing them. Right now, I mean. Which makes it come off less as impressive and more..." She seemed reluctant to let herself be so blunt: "... like dress-up." She was quiet for a few moments, then: "That's my opinion as a public figure. ... But I understand the need to be seen through how you dress. So my opinion as a person is that like it." A little shrug. "I find it bold, memorable, and, honestly, admirable." Her hidden smile showing in her tone, the masked woman gave them an approving nod.

"Right..." Adeline was clearly not sure about this interaction from the get-go. She broke, eye contact? not quite. She looked away with a hint of his laugh. "Ah, okay, I see. It's quite hot behind the masks, actually; Trust me when I say I wouldn't be wearing them if I had the choice. Muffles the voice, and, frankly, I can barely see or hear. And, of course, politeness. ... Thank you for your concern, Mister Alkaev, but if it's all the same to you and everyone's right to not lose their eyesight to the blinding cursed light that radiates from every orifice in my face, I'll be keeping them on." sadly adeline is respectable enough to explain instead of just cooperating to prove a point :(

"I see that you're more the... longcoat type of woman." Hmm, yes, that is a good way to start this off. As much as Otto sounded like he was in disbelief, he probably shouldn't have been, considering not only were cloaks just a step below longcoats, but also it was literally February, and it was freezing cold. Goddamn, Adeline deserved her coat, not some rich snob climbing all over her about it.

But, maybe he was trying not to mention the obvious, that being her goggles and the cloth covering the bottom half of her face. Both items made it difficult for him to discern her facial features. Well, most of her clothing did that. He took pause to look over her a few more times, filling the air with an awkward silence. Or, was it more so tense? He didn't look too pleased with what she donned, but it wasn't like he had any right to talk shit about it, because his uniform was more godawful than hers.

Not seeing one's face, however, was a tad unnerving. He couldn't admit that, either. To admit something was unnerving was showing even a sliver of fear.

At last, he broke the silence, "It's not bad, I'll say that much. Quite interesting, in fact! Cool colors are always well-appreciated, aren't they, miss? They fit any occasion. And, at least you look cozy. If not for the fact I'm already quite comfortable, I'd wear such a thing." Once more, he glanced at her bandana, losing his brief smile in favor of a puzzled frown.

"I'll just assume that's for the cold, too, and not for anything suspicious. That and your goggles." he huffed, "You should take them off for this, though, shouldn't it? It's only polite to show your face."

maybe i'll follow-up?

Roswell thumbed the pelt he'd been holding. His lone eye studied the rough and short fur. A skunk's. "Yer sure a man with an eye of detail," he told the hunter. Roswell looked up from the black-and-white pelt and shot his host a quick smile. "It takes a skilled 'and to perfectly flay such a lil critter," he mused. His fingers traced the fluffy tail.
"Yer can make fine boot-covers with dese," Roswell said. "We wrap dem around our riding boots in Drakenburg. Fasten dem with ropes," Roswell continued. Going as far as making a 'cord-fasting' gesture with his hands. (While still holding the pelt.)
"They block out the cold," he explained. "Keep out de snow. We do de same with hares but skunk's work better," he told Otto.
Roswell finally put the pelt back down.
"But oi don't need to tell yer all about survivin' in de cold roi?" Roswell said. He shot the nobleman a grin. One that slightly flashed his teeth. "Or clothin' for that matter," he continued with a voice as sweet as honey.

"Yer a well-dressed gent, sir," Roswell said. The leidsman's eye darted over Otto. As he studied the man. His gaze lingered on the man's boots. Roswell paused.
Whaat are those?
"With de stride of a hunter. A marksman," Roswell managed to sputter as he'd caught himself staring at the other party's footwear for just a wee bit too long. "Aye," he said. "Stron' and grounded. Classy and well-kept," he continued. The leidsman shot another smile. He nodded. As if to agree with his own flattering compliments. But the old thief didn't sweet-talk without a reason….

"Back to de fur," Roswell poked. He gestured at that poor skunk that deserved better than these two old men anyway.
" 'ow much are yer askin' for it?" He dared to ask. Roswell grimaced.
"For me as well?" The thief asked. With raised brows.
"Sir Otto, oi thought we were friends! Like hoigh-born among hoigh-born," he said. Roswell studied the other for a brief second. Then breathed out. Knowing he was beaten.
"Foine," he grumbled. Before plucking the money-pouch from his belt and counting the coins. He shoved Otto the money. Clearly not happy with the whole ordeal.
"Yer lucky dat oi've cold feet roi now," he hissed.

--

The poor skunk that's being turned into boot covers while these boomers flirt 

   - this is probably the worst fate that the skunk could get. I'm so sorry sweet mustelid.... 😔😔😔😔😔

ANYWAYS. this is.... cute.... too bad there's a good chance Brown will have to do the lifting if he wants any chance of "stealing" her like before rfdvfrsdvbsfdv- (/lh + /pos)

for context, I went for the winter outfit just because.... furry solidarity. (Brown is probably wearing a wolf's pelt coat with a marabou scarf/frill for reference, but. god I can't draw or describe clothes. just trust me on this one- :"DDDDDDDDDDD /lh)

also I realized post-production how long this is, so. spoiler box time...... dw about content; the worst that happens is Brown being uwuwuwuwu at Roswell's outfits, for better or for worse.

I'll try my best to do a follow-up for NP or ELSE. maybe.

Xander's nose wobbled. The smell of cigars was overwhelming, especially for Xander's delicate nose. Being cramped into a carriage (with no open windows) didn't help. It made him sick. The shocks of the carriage were irregular and made the gaslights flicker. Xander placed his elbow on the window frame. He looked at Brown, who was the source of the cigar-smoke, then outside the window. It was early in the morning (which made the smoke even less stomachable!) and the clouds were thick and full of rain. A rainy day for an auction. Some rich old-gent had passed and his heirlooms were auctioned off. Fossils. There was talk about rare ones. Not that Xander cared though. He wasn't a bone-kind-of person. Xander was more interested in old Krett-heirlooms that were promised also. Ivory idols and such.

"There was talk in the paper about an amber," he told Brown in passing. As his gaze still lingered outside. He could see the ocean as their carriage crossed a bridge. "A fully preserved one. Or so I've heard." Xander's eyes flicked at Brown. She was dressed for the occasion, just like him. Void. If Xander had óne spick of hetero-sexuality in him he would say she looked attractive. With her high collarbones and powdered face. Sure, the frill was a bit much but...
"You look marvelous today, ma'am," he said. He smiled. As to reassure his compliment. "The fur of your coat, it boosts your posture madam, it emphasizes your strong shoulders," he said. With a nod.
"The look of a real socialized fossil digger, ma'am if I say so myself," he added. Before his gaze drifted outside once more.
"I'm sure they can appreciate that at the auction house," he added. He watched Brown in the mirror reflection and his gaze lingered on the other party's hat. Then his gut twisted. Void! Vot-fuck.
"I should have brought along a cap too," Xander muttered. Before looking at Brown again.
"Oh how stupid! How did I ever expect getting the attention from the auctioneer without a hat?" Xander laughed pained.
"Oh madam, please forgive my clumsiness but… can I borrow your hat in actions you're not interested in? I promise to give it back."

--

Xander's reaction tbh 😭❤

Harper stared at Fabien for a moment, the gears in his head turning. He was never one for fashion, really, but he still loved seeing other people's styles. Or perhaps it was his little demon brain looking for ideas on how to fit in better, and what was with the current times. Either way, Fabien's bright red bow caught Harper's attention.

"That red bow really pops out since the rest of your outfit is so dull and colorless! You should add some more color!" Harper grinned. Red had always been his favorite color. "Maybe you could get another one for your hair! Or you could grab a few other little pieces of jewelry! You need a makeover with  some more color, man, and I'll sure as hell deliver on that!"

I'll follow up for NP if I have time!