enblightened | ☣️ ic inbox;

I have no schedule I adhere to. We may meet when you desire.

Now, then. You are at your usual part of the woods?

I am. You are welcome as always, of course. Even with your teasing.

[He laughs quietly at that.]

This is good, for my teasing hates to be parted from me. [But, you know, he'd quit it if Bigby told him to.] Be there soon.

[They're practically next-door neighbors, so soon is really soon when Illarion wanders over to Bigby's neck of the woods with Iskierka riding on his shoulder.

He's got extra feathers in his hair and a bag in one hand, and he's--as usual--humming to announce his presence.]

[The teasing does him no harm, even if it still feels odd to be flirted with. Still, it does not bother him, so no concern is voiced.

And in his bit of woods, he waits, sitting by a calm fire as he runs his fingers thoughtfully through his wolf omen's fur. As the wolf's ear twitches at Illarion's arrival, so too does Bigby hear his humming.

So he looks in the direction, curiously.]

And what have you brought with you, my friend?

Lunch! [Illarion, that bag is much bigger than just "lunch".] Or you may think of it as, hm, encouragement for trying on your gifts.

[He makes his careful way around the fire to where Bigby and the wolf are, hunkering down beside his friend in that crouch that's most comfortable for an elf. Iskierka pops her head up over his to inspect her fellow Omen, and then Bigby, with a critical faceted eye. Does anyone need his hair fixed??]

Here. You need not eat it now if you do not hunger, but I would give these to you. ["These" being a box of some kind of dried, spiced, compressed mushroom bar; one of the shrike's hoarded apples; and a little bag of outlandishly packaged cookies that had to have come off one of November's boats. They're wrapped in crinkly plastic and everything.

He sets them in a tidy little stack.]

Ah, so you must bribe me with food in order to have me dress in the clothes given to me. Your motives are clear as day.

[The wolf looks better since the last time Illarion and Iskierka visited, a bit less scruffy. Bigby is... well. He's about the same as usual.]

Thank you, truly. I suppose I can share what was given to me. Unless you intend for me to wear it.

[He straightens, laying a hand across his breast in feigned dismay; his eyes widen dramatically behind his veil (but there's a sparkle of amusement in them).] A bribe? I would not ever.

[It's completely different from a bribe (it is totally a bribe).

Iskierka finishes her survey, warbling a little to herself as she drops back onto her Sleeper's shoulder. He also drops the melodrama to say,]

I would like very much if you would wear it. [There's a quiet earnestness behind the words.]

Very well. Give me a moment.

[Rising to his feet, he goes into his extremely humble looking shelter. Just enough room for sleep and a roof over his head, but it was the safest place to store the clothing.

It takes a bit of time, as he runs his fingers over new clothing. Even socks and shoes are such a novelty, and feel nearly foreign on his feet if not for nostalgia. He remembers when many of his outfits were much like this one back in his days as a scientist serving both the court and the church.

When he emerges, he wears a suit with a half-cape draped over his shoulder. Still ever concerned, his chains are rearranged, shackles still prominent. As if he cannot afford the chance to relinquish them.

Still, it nearly brings a tear to the eye. He very nearly feels like a man.

Hesitantly, he emerges, trying to not feel self-conscious. He does anyway. How often had it been told to him, beaten into him that he scarcely deserved this sort of thing?]

As you need.

[The shrike's content to wait by the fire, eyes half-closed as listens to its crackle and the distant muted sounds of the winter woods. A part of him takes absent note of Bigby's little shelter--practical, yes, to its purpose but more of a field encampment than a home, a refuge.

Not that Illarion's in any position to judge, given he's barely got one himself. Still...

He lifts his head as Bigby reappears, drawn to sound and the ((feel)) of motion--then stands upright as the overall impression of his friend's new outfit comes together. Iskierka launches herself off his shoulder to fly a circle around the other Sleeper, taking in color and detail that are lost on the shrike.

Who is quite honestly speechless a moment as he considers this transformation of the man he knows. Even the shackles are, in their way, still fitting--though Illarion definitely has cause to wonder how it would look without them, and the greater intangible weight still that they represent on Bigby's spirit.]

Ahhh. [A low sigh.] If I did still draw breath, this would take it entirely away.

She chose very well for you.

[Though sightless in his own stead, Illarion's omen clearly bestows what she sees to him. It is enough, evidently, that Illarion is able to perceive his appearance.

And enough still that he is flustered once more, green blush just hinting on his face. If one did not know him, they'd think him ill.]

You are ever kind in your words, my friend. And me, ever gracious.

I cannot think of an occasion for them, but... I suppose that I am glad that I was gifted the suit. Would you share with me what she gave you as well?

[It really is a charming blush even if it's not a color one ever expects on a human, Illarion decides. What one might be able to do with that leaf-green undertone given the right cosmetics is an interesting potential challenge...]

Ever-gracious and very handsome, [he's not letting Bigby off lightly, oh no,] and if I have learned anything about our Patrons in last these many months, the occasion will soon present itself for you.

[Then he clears his throat, looking momentarily taken aback himself. Not that he hasn't been expecting or intending to honor the reciprocal request--why else bring his gift along with him in that bag in the first place--but there many moments one could wholly prepare for and still be shocked by when they arrive in the whole weight of their immanence. This is one of those, since much as she had with her gift to Bigby, Madam Generosity has handed Illarion back a piece of his history.

It's just a lot of history to have land on one all at once.]

Gladly. And gladly wear it for you, too, though it is not proper to my station any longer. Here, [he beckons Bigby over and leans down to pick up the bag he brought. The first thing out of it is an embroidered coat far more elaborate than anything the shrike's ever worn in Trench.]

[It's difficult to think that he could be perceived as attractive on any level, but he also is not put out by the compliments, feeling humbled. Still he fears ruining the clothes with his worse half, but this has been a kind reminder. If nothing else, he is fond of the clothing.

And fortunately, Illarion shares his own.

As gently as ever, Bigby runs his thumb over the coat with an admiration, his eyes gazing over the elegant design.]

It is beautiful.

Station or not, it would only be fair for you to dress yourself in this for me to see, yes? For I, as well, am no longer a man of the court, yet here I am anyway.

Indulge me?

[A smile that's positively shy tugs up one corner of his mouth.]

It is. She has remade it in every detail.

[Not surprising from one angle, really--Pthumerians, after all--but a minor shock from another, that anything in the Waking World knew him that well.

He nods at Bigby's line of logic, looking maybe just a little sheepish--a little pleased, too!--to have his own wiles turned back on him.]

Fairly argued, dear friend. I do owe you as much. [He shrugs out of his heavy, practical Hunter's coat, laying it aside to put on Madam Generosity's gift. It fits him perfectly, for all he knows he'd lost weight and muscle since setting aside the coat it's a copy of.

That last thought's cause for a fleeting frown as he secures the last clasp and straightens the tall collar around his throat.]

Well. [He lifts his chin and turns his head in Bigby's direction.] Does it still suit?

[For a moment, Bigby is quiet, if only for the fact that he does truly find both the coat and Illarion himself mesmerizing. The combination of the two leaves him quiet, contemplative, then warmly he speaks:]

Incredibly so.

[Gentle as ever in his touch, he takes Illarion's hand, sweetly pecking the back of it.]

I know you only as you are now, but for that I could not regret a single moment. Especially now. You are a wonder to see.

☣️ ic inbox;

clearly i need to go on another photoshop adventure

pros: do it, cons: do it

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DANG BIGBY. makin me regret i don't have a better "o wow" icon

HEEHEEHOOHOOHEE

now who's the menace!! (also lowkey mad i can't find an in-focus pic of this coat)

its me i am the one

how the turn tables....

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