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Old 09-12-2022, 07:58 PM   #1
ShadowDRGN
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Stella Cadente - ShadowDRGN's Secret Base

Stella Cadente
Custom Dressmaking & Tailoring
Though Goto had thought himself content to wander the world for the past couple years, recent events since his arrival in Fizzytopia brought with them a stark realization—for all his time as a vagabond has done to give him perspective on the world, he found his creative edge dulled by that self-same way of life.

While the tailor never truly stopped making and mending clothes, there was a certain ennui that came from creating only for his own sake. After all, the satisfaction he felt from his craft came partly from the challenge of creating each piece. From the way he had to carefully select the materials, to cutting and styling it to perfectly both his client and the occasion—all of it culminated in the magic moment when the recipient first slipped it on before the mirror.

Truly, to only have a client in himself—to effortlessly know his every taste and whim—left no challenge or surprise in his work. Even his prized Raikou kimono provided little in the way of creative nourishment, despite how proud he was to wear it to the gala.

Driven by a hunger to meet new muses, Goto decided now was the time to take a hammer to the Tepig bank he’d been saving since his departure. It was money that reeked of blood and tears, yet he could find no better way to part with it than to start anew and wiser.

He purchased a quaint little storefront in the heart of the city, and set about renovating it between his escapades. Among a neighborhood of unsightly industrial warehouses and old, colonial-style buildings, he endeavored to make his shop be the rose blooming from the concrete—a place of rustic comforts, curiosity, and boundless self-expression for all who walk through its doors.

Whether you’re here for repairs and adjustments, craft supplies, or to commission entirely new outfits, expect stellar service at fair rates—but to those seeking an expedited request, the tailor prefers his work paired with an engaging conversation or two...

Ground Floor
This is where most of the day-to-day happens. Visitors to the shop are free to look around and sit down in the drawing room, though kitchen usage will be handled by either Goto or any of the Pokemon he leaves on staff.
[Please reply in Burlywood.]

Storefront. In stark contrast to the shop’s unassuming exterior, the inside is filled corner-to-corner with colorful fabrics, arranged purposefully to dazzle new customers. Though the door lacks a bell, visitors rarely have to wait long to be greeted from the window-side counter, whether it’s by Goto himself or one of his Pokemon.

Being part textiles and part custom-made apparel, the shop’s selection runs across a spectrum of different products and materials for all sorts of needs. Careful arrangement of low-set tables keeps what would be limited floor space feel wide open, while bulk items like fabric rolls are shifted towards the walls to avoid clutter. Despite the creaky and rustic construction, there is barely a dusty corner to be found.

If one looks closely, they can find tokens of Goto’s travels all over; paintings of the Kalosian countryside, wood-carved totems from the isles of Alola, and plenty of influences from the art of traditional Kantonian dress-making.

Backrooms. Accessed through a curtained doorway tucked between the shelves, the shop’s backrooms trade carefully-considered aesthetics for utility. Metal shelves rise like walls, filled with boxes of surplus product, seasonal items waiting their turn to christain the shelves, and projects that are biding their time on the backburner.

Customers are rarely allowed back here, but there are those occasions where the item they seek can only be found by delving into the labyrinth... hopefully with a ball of string to help guide them back to the exit once they’re done.

Fitting Rooms. Having been converted from a pair of closets, these small rooms feature coat racks, a mirror and a bench to assist customers in trying on clothes. Keys for either room can be found in a basket at the counter.

Drawing Room. Shades of the building’s past as a residential home are clear the moment one steps inside the drawing room. A couch with a soft, floral-Pokemon pattern and two mismatched chairs surround a glass table, upon which lies a porcelain tea set. With accompaniment from a glass wine cabinet, and access to the kitchen, it has everything Goto needs to host the perfect chat—be it over tea or a nice vintage.

Kitchen. Though space is tight—practically a narrow strip of floor flanked by the oven on one side, and the fridge and sink on the other—this kitchen has everything necessary to make a full meal at home. Jars filled with various tea leaves, spices and garnishes line the shelves, carefully arranged by color and strength, and rarely ever left untouched whenever Goto makes his favorite dishes.

Workshop. Secreted away in the back corner of the building is a tiny room, where the windows are curtained with fine silks to carefully control the light. Scraps of cloth and sewing supplies are strewn about the workbench, never resting as a line of works-in-progress hangs from a rack near the door. A drawing board is situated just in sight, providing invaluable references for how each piece should be made.

Goto spends much of his time here, hunched over an electric sewing machine as he turns the dreams of his customers into reality. Though he prefers to work by himself, there are some pieces which require direct input from the client. They’ll not be bored, however, as a steady stream of refreshments from the kitchen help to liven things up even as the tailor becomes absorbed in his craft.


Upstairs
Access to the upstairs can be found in the hall between the storefront and the kitchen. With exception to the bathroom, customers are permitted up here only with permission.
[Please reply in MediumTurquoise.]

Bedroom. Seldom occupied during the day, Goto’s room is nonetheless kept neat and tidy at all times. A king-sized bed dominates the floor space, with satin sheets providing warmth and comfort during even the depths of winter. Heavy rouge curtains block almost all light when drawn closed, allowing the tailor to light scented candles around the room when a more calming atmosphere is needed.

Though sparse compared to the downstairs, the room still has plenty of furnishings to make it feel more home-like. A rocking chair in the corner is permanently occupied by hand-made plush Pokemon, while the dresser at the foot of the bed holds a pewter jewelry box surrounded by framed photos from his travels. A nightstand on the right is topped with an alarm clock, a charging dock, and a pill organizer—as for what’s inside the drawer, well... that’s a secret kept tightly under lock-and-key.

Bathroom. Located through the first door on the left, this room is filled with rather standard amenities—a hybrid bathtub/shower, a toilet, and a sink with an ovular mirror. A frosted glass window allows light to filter in while keeping privacy, and everything is kept sparkling clean for the sake of both customers and residents.

The drawer nearest to the door is filled with an assortment of cosmetics for Goto’s personal use—foundations, concealers, eyeliners, and a handful of lipsticks and balms.

Office/Study. Walking into this room, one feels an immediate air of professionalism surrounding them. A heavy, covered desk stands prominently across from the door, illuminated either by sunlight filtering through the blinds or the electric glow of a desk-lamp. Often-times, the tailor’s laptop is accompanied by stacks of paperwork never fully exhausted, no matter how often he works through the night.

Bookshelves flank the desk to either side, organized by topics ranging from tailoring and design textbooks to works of philosophy, history, fiction and any other literature that Goto finds interesting. A plush chair in the corner serves both for clients to sit upon as they talk business with the tailor, and as a retreat from all the busywork as Goto settles down with a book in-hand.

For either occasion, a bar behind the desk is stocked with drinks, while a folding game board tucked into one of the drawers turns otherwise dull meetings into an engaging battle of wits.


Last edited by ShadowDRGN; 09-12-2022 at 09:48 PM.
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Old 09-12-2022, 08:05 PM   #2
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Old 09-12-2022, 09:05 PM   #3
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Litwick I've wasted my nights...

Quote:
Originally Posted by ShadowDRGN View Post

Ground Floor
This is where most of the day-to-day happens. Visitors to the shop are free to look around and sit down in the drawing room, though kitchen usage will be handled by either Goto or any of the Pokemon he leaves on staff.
[Please reply in Burlywood.]

Storefront. In stark contrast to the shop’s unassuming exterior, the inside is filled corner-to-corner with colorful fabrics, arranged purposefully to dazzle new customers. Though the door lacks a bell, visitors rarely have to wait long to be greeted from the window-side counter, whether it’s by Goto himself or one of his Pokemon.

Being part textiles and part custom-made apparel, the shop’s selection runs across a spectrum of different products and materials for all sorts of needs. Careful arrangement of low-set tables keeps what would be limited floor space feel wide open, while bulk items like fabric rolls are shifted towards the walls to avoid clutter. Despite the creaky and rustic construction, there is rarely a dusty corner to be found.

If one looks closely, they can find tokens of Goto’s travels all over; paintings of the Kalosian countryside, wood-carved totems from the isles of Alola, and plenty of influences from the art of traditional Kantonian dress-making.
The shop was a vibrant display of colors and textures, featuring all sorts of decor from the world over. THis, of course, would be appreciated by most people. Most people... he was not most people. No, he didn't have an eye for detail. All he saw was the present moment, much to the chagrin of those around him. Only having the larger picture in mind, despite taking the time to try and smell the roses along the way.

A large, hulking man of muscles and scruff entered the shop, pectorals barely contained by his tank top. A necklace with silver dog tags swung to and fro as he entered, catching the various lights within the shop. A beat to shit, sleeves ripped off leather jacket hugged his sides, fully showing off his toned arms and tatted sleeves. He treats carefully, trying his best to make sure his studded, fingerless leather gloves caught on anything.

Trailing behind the man was a Midnight Lycanroc, seeming curious at its surroundings. The Pokemon sniffed into the air, seeming on edge. Unlike his rough and gruff trainer, the dog was kept immaculately. His mohawk-pompadour mix of a coat shined brilliantly, and his rocky fur was a deep crimson hue. Nails were perfectly trimmed to be sharpened on the ground for battle, but not hurt otherwise, and fangs were a sparkling white.

"Think we'll find him here?" the trainer asked the Lycanroc, who wasn't too aware of what his trainer was asking.

"Nah." the blonde shook his head. "I need new kicks and threads anyways. These shorts are getting too loose..." he muttered.

His ocean blue eyes then skimmed the room, seeming to wait for something to catch his interest. Fashion was definitely not his forte, as he tended to go for the macho jock look when possible. And the clothing here... didn't exactly match that. Yet rumors caught wind of someone he had met once was here. Years ago, when he was just starting out from Nimbasa.
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Old 09-17-2022, 12:11 AM   #4
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No flash photography.

The sign hung conspicuously above the back corner of the shop, visible from the moment one walked through the doors. Normally, it was the kind of warning you’d see in a museum, or inside a Pokemon Daycare, not a tailor’s shop. Certainly, Manuel wasn’t about to disagree with the quality of the pieces on display, but it still felt odd to him. Surely, the clothes were sturdy enough to withstand a brief bit of light from his camera...

The bespectacled photographer sighed, sliding another jacket down the rack as he examined the next. He’d come in seeking formal wear for a press conference this weekend—a pretty standard gig, yet one he found himself underprepared for since coming to Fizzytopia. After all, tastes here were quite a bit different than they were in Kalos, and he could only pack so much of his closet into two suitcases.

Even so, it appeared that he’d gotten a tad sidetracked along the way. Shopping with purpose became an aimless browse to fuel his fanciful daydreams. He pictured vividly the kind of impression he would make with every outfit that crossed his notice—how it would feel to be a trendsetter, for once.

He heard the sound of the door swinging open, but paid it no mind at first. People had been coming and going frequently enough, and it’s not like he knew very many of the locals yet. No, he rarely tended to get acquainted with anyone during his travels. The last friend he made abroad that he could remember, well... he’d given up hope of ever crossing paths with him again.

The style he wanted was missing his size, it seemed. That shrewd tailor had to be around somewhere, he could take a size up and simply ask him to re-fit it. Plus, it’d been a while since he had his measurements taken, anyways.

Settling for coming back tomorrow, Manuel plucked the jacket off the wall and turned around, holding the shirt aloft like he’d just obtained a new item. He wished he could take a picture, but in this lighting, he wouldn’t be able to properly capture the subtleties in the weave that captivated him so.

A stray glance—that’s all it took for Manuel to notice him standing there. He completely stuck out like the proverbial Taurous in a china shop. The years had changed a lot about him—about both of them, really—but there was no mistaking the brash look in those eyes.

“Tanner!?”
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Old 09-21-2022, 02:52 PM   #5
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Litwick Four Years, No Call

A familiar voice hits his ears, his mind starting to warp beneath the singular word said. His name. Mmm, yes, a mix of shock and relief. It was a taste he was all too familiar with, and something that drove him forwards. So the rumors were true, at least, the ones whispered to him.

Yet, he was not the one to act. No, a flash of red rushed up to the person calling to him. The Lycanroc sized the man up, before giving a nod. It was a familiar scent... Then it was true. After all of these years, they had finally reunited. It was a bit awkward, sure, to meet in a clothing shop of all places. Yet, chance meetings couldn't be helped, could they?

"Sup man," he gives a cheeky grin in response. "Been what, four years now? Still, it's been a while. What've you been doing anyways?"

At this point, the Lycanroc had retreated back to his trainer's side. He was overly protective, even if he could get rowdy at times. Four years was a long time, after all. For a chance meeting like this to happen, even if his trainer was actively searching, then it was fate. Or luck. Perhaps both?
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If I had to leave to disappear and leave this world behind, no matter-
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Old 09-21-2022, 07:44 PM   #6
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Shocked beyond words—even describing it like that failed to convey the feeling in Manuel’s chest right now. Coincidence? Fate? Whichever brought them together again, it was like the photographer’s whole world had been squeezed down to the size of this one, single room.

He leaned back a bit as Lycanroc darted up to him, at first not recognizing the Pokemon that had accompanied them on their journey together. As soon as he remembered, though, his face lit up in a warm smile, and he gladly held out his hand for the Pokemon to smell. It was only natural for him to have evolved after all this time... but that fact still didn’t quite register in his brain as real.

Nothing about this felt real. Why find each-other again now? Why here, of all places?

“Has it really been that long? It felt like it was just a summer ago...” Manuel replied, laughing that same nervous laugh from back on the Viridian lakeside. His eyes glanced down to his watch, and he realized he wasn’t about to shoot up from his bed—this really was happening.

“Excuse me, I... I just wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he added, draping the jacket over his arm like a butler carrying a towel. His shoes squeaked against the floorboards as he drew closer to Tanner, though careful not to encroach too much on Lycanroc’s protective tendencies.

“I’ve been doing well for myself! I got picked up by a paper in Kalos after I graduated, but the pressure was getting to me, so I decided to go freelance,” he explained, taking a calming breath between every pause.

“The rest is a pretty boring story, honestly. What about you? Were you... looking for me when you came here?”

Last edited by ShadowDRGN; 09-21-2022 at 09:13 PM.
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Old 10-19-2022, 02:58 PM   #7
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Litwick We keep wasting colors

Tanner blinked as his old friend started to pour his heart out. This was too much for his brain to comprehend, after all. Stuff like fate and destiny was beyond him. He was a simple man, who lived a simple life. Train and rescue. Muscle over smarts. He didn't have the mental fortitude to think higher than that.

"I'll admit I heard some rumors," he sighs. "Thought I'd see how an old acquaintance was doing..."

Though, it was only partially the truth. He wouldn't lie in saying that some of him wanted to see the photographer again. Even if his words went over his head, he didn't mind the company. Brains to brawn, after all. It felt like a part of him was complete here.

"Anyways, the two of us have been traveling the world. Beefing up and doing some search and rescue. My Rhyhorn is currently out training in Kalos, funnily enough, so I don't have him on me. I did also rehome that Poochyena I found. But, I did manage to get some more pokemon since our time together." He gives Manuel a hearty smirk.

"I do need some new threads. Why I came here in the first place. When you're out roughing it all the time, you tend to get rips and tears," he further states. "You are more... well dressed than me most of the time. I'd appreciate some help."

The Lycanroc gave him a paw in the side. The Pokemon more than well knew what was actually going on, and was egging his trainer on. Just be blunt. That's how they were. Not beating around the bush. Even if it wasn't exactly the time to be properly blunt. Play it cool, and see how it goes. That was their style.
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If I had to leave to disappear and leave this world behind, no matter-
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Old 10-23-2022, 06:30 PM   #8
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Rhyhorn and Poochyena... those Pokemon definitely bring back memories. They were both so green when they set out on that little journey, it felt like they were discovering everything about themselves as they went. Hell—even though his passion for photography has been with him since he was a kid, back then he was still learning how to properly use a real camera.

“I see. I don’t have Shutterbug or Vikivolt with me, I’m afraid, but I do have a few new Pokemon to introduce you to!” Manuel chuckles, turning his hip to show an unfamiliar Pokeball hanging from his belt. The stars speckling the ball’s surface have a holographic layer applied to them, which turns even dusty lamplight into a mesmerizing shimmer.

And it is, of course, horribly chic.

The Space Ball pops open, releasing a Ledyba into the air. The (surprisingly large) Pokemon flits around Tanner in circles, her delicate wings a blur beneath her glossy red shell.

“This is Cassiope. I met her while I was practicing photography on Route 4, just outside Lumiose,” he explains, smiling as the ladybug Pokemon perches atop his head like a novelty hat. The man certainly adores his bugs, that much hasn’t changed at all.

His attention returns to Tanner as the jock explains his current predicament, and looking him over... Manuel is definitely in agreement. His style looks more scuffed-up than he was by the time they finished hiking it halfway to Victory Road, and while no doubt some of those nicks and tears were part of his charm, right now his clothes are on the verge of falling apart—and that just wouldn’t do.

“Mhm...” The photographer nods, fingers resting on his chin as he looks the muscular man up and down. It’s hard to visualize Tanner in a suit, or really any kind of formal wear, but... oh, what the heck?

“Alright! I’m sure if we look around, we can find some styles you’d like,” he says, smiling brightly as he lifts his jacket-draped arm, “and I’m already going to be talking to the owner about getting this fitted, so we could ask him about having something made in your style, too!”
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Old 10-23-2022, 09:10 PM   #9
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Litwick Boy, the way you blowin' up my phone

Tanner blinks for a moment as the giant bug is released. He did always like his bugs, didn't he? Well, at the very least the memories they shared were still there. Considering they had parted ways soon after that little quest, it made sense they had both branched out into their own.

"Cassiope... Kinda mouthful," he states, before realizing that was rude. "Uh shit, sorry. Glad you've found another partner, especially to help with your photography."

He huffed a bit. Small talk was never his element. Act first, think later. So in a place where he was out of his element... Especially with how delicate the situation was. It was hard to put it into words, but he didn't feel he was in charge here. And he did not like that.

"Style?" he mutters, questioning the word. He didn't really have a style, per se. Just, shorts and ripped jackets. Tanks and baseball caps. Muddied boots and hiking socks. Things that showed off his muscles, and his stubble. Also, his multiple piercings, when possible.

"Don't think much here matches what I like. A suit? Too stuffy," he shakes his head, with the Lycanroc mimicking the action. "Though, you said the tailor is here? I guess getting fitted, or designed, or whatever could work?"

He gulped, getting a feeling of dread. There was something here that was suddenly putting him off. What it was, he could not tell. It was beyond him, even if he thought about it. So, it was time to just follow this trail of thread. Go for it, even with reservations. He wouldn't find out if he just sat around, right?
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If I had to leave to disappear and leave this world behind, no matter-
All I'd need is your smile
And I wouldn't even mind

Hawke | Leo


Last edited by Lil'twick; 10-23-2022 at 09:15 PM.
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Old 10-31-2022, 05:52 PM   #10
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Tanner is most definitely not the one in charge here. He’s far removed from his element, being a jock with no apparent regard for his appearance sauntering around inside a boutique—being the one to seek the company of another, instead of being the one sought after.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare force you into a suit, Tanner. Knowing you, it’d get torn up again within the month!” Manuel says, laughing brightly. Glad they’re in agreement on that.

The photographer feels much more calm now. The initial shock has vanished, and now he can just focus on talking. Tanner might be on his... own tempo, to put it softly, but his honesty and directness is refreshing. In a field where everything needs to be carefully worded, and every conversation planned in advance, it’s nice to just... be able to talk.

Yet, even as he happily leads his friend through the shop, he can’t help but feel the same creeping sense of being put off. Tanner isn’t in charge of the situation, but Manuel sure as hell isn’t, either. Call it being aimless together, as this shop is the domain of a very peculiar master, and that dread Tanner feels may very well be the sensation of a cold breeze grazing his neck from outside—

“Ah, welcome!” Goto amicably says as he walks through the door. The willowy tailor’s suit is a deep, inky shadow slinking against the light of the window, but at the same time, his silhouette appears almost fractured in a way. It’s only as he nears the both of them that they notice the spider-web pattern creeping across the fabric of his clothes.

Manuel seems to shrink in his presence, “ah. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were out,” he says, sharing a look of hesitation with Tanner briefly.

Goto’s legs disappear behind the counter, leaving his upper half gliding across the lacquered wood. His orange-tinted lips are curled into a curious smile—one that can’t be discerned either way between being inviting or being “inviting”. A piece of jet carved into the shape of a Murkrow’s skull hangs from one of his ears, and the most vexing charm is set swinging by the brushing of a gloved hand through his wavy hair.

“No apology needed. You’ve caught me on the eve of a rather busy night, and so I’ll have to pop out occasionally, here and there,” he replies, teasing loose the tips of his gloves until the leather slipped from his wiry fingers.

“Now. Is there anything I can help either of you with?” Goto asks, laying both of his pale hands atop the counter. His amber eyes are sharp and prodding, and after a moment of silence he chuckles dryly, “don’t worry. I don’t bite.”

Last edited by ShadowDRGN; 10-31-2022 at 07:00 PM.
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Old 11-02-2022, 02:41 PM   #11
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Litwick Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated?

He was a rat in the adder's den. A fly within the spider's web. And infinitely more predator and prey metaphors. But, he was trapped now. Between Manuel's enthusiasm for getting him clothes, and the tailor himself. Something was stirring within him, and it was not something he liked. No, he wanted to flee, but he couldn't. He was stuck here. Well, guess it was best to just let it play out.

Looking down at Jake, the dog gave him a cheeky grin. He couldn't tell if the Midnight Lycanroc wanted to see this through for amusement, or something else. Still, his faithful hound wasn't interested in bailing his trainer out either. Great, just great. Really just had to play it out, and see what would happen in the end, wouldn't he?

"He," Tanner looks at Manuel with a side glance. "Is trying to help me find some new threads."

He lifts up one of his legs, sticking it fully out, to just show how scratched up his shorts had become from the past few months. He'd probably be told to go to a sportswear store. At this point, he was hoping he could just go there anyways. He found what he was looking for, and like the last time, he was with this man... He was getting a LOT more than he bargained for.

"So, I haven't had the time to buy new clothes in a few years roughin' it out. Or new kicks... I've also bulked up a lot more," he states. It was obvious, just looking at him, that his tank top was desperately trying to hold the man inside of it. "So, might need to be fitted too."

He then felt a punch in the side, courtesy of one red dog.

"And, well." He then moves his right hand under his cap and starts scratching his head. "If you have something that could be better than looking like a hiker or backpacker, I'd appreciate it."
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If I had to leave to disappear and leave this world behind, no matter-
All I'd need is your smile
And I wouldn't even mind

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Old 11-14-2022, 08:09 PM   #12
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Goto’s eyes snap to Manuel the moment that Tanner looks at him, and all at once a feeling of foreboding descends upon him. This was your idea, that’s how he could best describe the meaning behind both of their gazes, but with a key difference—one is a plea to help the hopelessly lost jock, but the other is an expression of the tailor’s interest in watching this shitshow unfold.

“Y-yes, that’s right,” Manuel confirms, bowing stiffly. Before he can continue, Tanner lifts his leg—practically propping it up atop the counter—and he shrinks away from the conversation again. A picture is worth a thousand words, after all, and really the look on Goto’s face makes it clear that no explanation is needed. He will, of course, let Tanner explain anyways.

“I see... those... certainly are past their due date,” remarks the tailor, framing his chin between his thumb and his forefinger as he takes in everything before him. As much as Tanner might believe he lacks a style to call his own, Goto’s perspective is much to the contrary. Everyone who wears clothes for a purpose has a style, whether it’s to stand out, blend in, to titillate or to toe the line.

In this man’s case, the reason is clear as crystal—Tanner has worked hard for this body, and his wardrobe is meant to flaunt the gains of that work. Sleeves are unnecessary, as the ink that marks his skin is a fashion statement of its own. Even the abused state of his shorts communicates his persona as a man of action, not words.

Put simply, Tanner is as theatrical as they come. His unpresentability reinforces his image of untamed masculinity, of exploration and self-reliance. The fact that he’s come here at all shows, even if subconsciously, that he cares about maintaining that appearance, either for his own sake or... perhaps for someone else’s?

Goto’s eyes flit over to Manuel, and then down to the coat draped over his arm, “and you? Found something you like, I take it?”

Manuel swallows his unease, and steps forward to place the jacket atop the worn grooves of the counter, “I’d also like this fitted, please.”

Goto steps forward, his dainty fingers running across the only faintly visible pinstripes that run down the sleeves. He can tell at a glance that it’s a little large for the photographer’s frame. Oh, it wouldn’t do at all for the cameraman to be caught wearing an ill-fitting suit—let alone one with his signature on the tag.

“Measurements?” asks the tailor with the same cadence as a bouncer requesting ID.

Manuel responds with a nervous smile, “mine are also a little outdated. I was hoping I could get them taken.”

Goto nods, “that can be arranged. As for you...”

As he trails off, Goto turns to face Tanner once more. In the back of his mind, he’s been puzzling over whether to take the man’s request. His orange-and-black nails trickle against the counter, only coming to an abrupt stop when he cracks a mysterious smile.

“Hm. It’s not my usual style, but I’m confident I could put together something suitable to your tastes,” he says. His words have a sense of finality to them, and yet, both Trainers feel like this is merely the beginning of something else.

The tailor’s torso begins sliding again, and he smoothly palms a roll of tape measure from among his mess of supplies. He pivots around the end of the countertop and slips between the two friends with host-like poise. They each feel an arm against their backs, calmly nudging them forward as Goto herds them elsewhere in the store.

“Now. Before I begin, I do have two important questions I’d like to ask you,” Goto says, addressing Tanner as they walk, “what would you say is the most... physically intensive activity you do regularly? I want to be sure whatever I make is durable enough to withstand, well, you. Secondly, do you have any fabric allergies I should be aware of? Polyester, acrylic, latex, for instance?”

Last edited by ShadowDRGN; 11-14-2022 at 08:16 PM.
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Old 11-16-2022, 05:57 PM   #13
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Say you'll never let me go

Tanner felt awkward as the man looked at him. That gaze, made him feel uncomfortable. He was being analyzed, piece by piece. Flesh by flesh. That every frayed thread was being judged and mentally plucked. He held a bated breath until the tailor finally responded to him. That the request would be taken, even if it was outside of his usual parameters. Still, he couldn't but sigh in relief.

"Usually I'm mountaineering. Hiking out and seeing the world. Of course, help those in a spot of trouble as well," he chuckles. "I just want to see the sights I can, and figure out what I want to do."

"But most physically taxing? Most likely mountain climbing proper. And I'm not allergic to anything!" he exclaims with reassurance.

Though, he then looked at Manuel. He had a feeling getting fitted for the jacket would be a different experience for him. Still, he was certainly the more formal, city-dwelling of two. Tanner was out on his foot, exploring what he wanted and wandering to the next place. Across sea and sky, from the mountains above and earth below. For the world was what he loved the most, instead of being cooped up in a singular urban jungle.
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Old 12-01-2022, 03:39 PM   #14
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“I see. Thank you, Tanner” the tailor replies. The jock’s answer needs a few moments to digest, as he peruses through his mental catalog of materials and techniques. Durability is the priority, certainly, but the design can’t just be all utility—it needs to fit his client’s particular image.

Similarly, Manuel also needs a moment to process Tanner’s words. Though, in his case it’s more of a surprise that his friend enjoys mountain climbing. Sure, they did their fair share of hiking around Kanto, but he always pegged the jock as more interested in competitive sports.

Goto leads the two of them through a set of stained-glass doors, and the rustic, wood-scented atmosphere of the shop quickly fades away. The drawing room is a melting pot of kitsch, with couches and chairs, a table and cabinets that appear to occupy completely different eras of style, yet somehow still coming together into a cohesive, decidedly cozy vibe.

Though the tailor intends to lead them into the workshop just down the hall, there’s been an obnoxious buzzing in his pocket for the last few minutes. He gestures for the two boys to take a seat, before stepping just outside to check his phone.

The tapestry of bright colors and patterns takes Manuel’s eyes on a journey spanning across the entire room. Part of him wants to snap a picture, but considering the sign earlier, and the owner is standing right there...

“I apologize,” says Goto, still looming within the doorway. His brow is furrowed taut, and he maintains a vice grip on his phone as he addresses his customers, “there’s a small matter I need to attend to. Please wait here until I come back.”

And just like that—he’s gone. The sound of stairs creaking passes overhead, but once the door to Goto’s office closes, his presence vanishes. It’s just the two of them, now, and an unspecified amount of time to kill.

Time that Manuel spends twiddling his thumbs, at first. He feels almost smothered under layers of awkwardness—from his sudden reunion, to being subjected to the tailor’s soul-piercing gaze, to now wondering what urgent business has left them stranded upon this island of doilies and grandma couches.

All the while, he’s glancing across the coffee table at Tanner. His lips are strung up nervously, caught in the vicious cycle of feeling bad for not saying anything, and also having no idea what to say that wouldn’t sound horribly lame...

“Soooo,” he finally breaks the ice, though it takes another moment before he can fully bring himself to ask what’s clearly been on his mind, “have you ever been to the top of a mountain before? I imagine it takes a lot of practice.”
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Old 01-10-2023, 02:11 PM   #15
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Is it selfish that I'm happy?

Tanner saw Manuel's awkward gaze and realized the Kalosian trainer was also stuck in his own misery. Contemplating on something, anything to really say. His answers to the tailor had caught the photographer off guard, and he didn't really know how to respond. Well, that's at least what Tanner could guess from the look he was being given. Then, a question was asked, and he responded in kind.

"I've been on top of a few at this point. Let's see here... once we parted ways in Kanto I was curious about Mt. Silver. I attempted that, but couldn't get too far. So, I decided to return home first with my Pokemon in tow. I tried to get back into sports, but it wasn't my passion anymore, ya know?" Tanner explains with his burly voice, using his hands to gesture.

"I then went to try a mountain closer to home, Reversal Mountain. Trained in Undella Bay for a while, thought swimming would help increase my endurance. It took me about three days to reach the peak, but I did it with Jake," he continues his story, the Lycanroc giving an approving nod.

"Then we decided to do Twist Mountain. Once in the summer... and then once in the winter. I felt if I could triumph over the mountain in the winter, I would be ready to try the rest of the world. And, well, we did," Tanner awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

"In fact, I've done Mt. Chimney, Mt. Wela, and most recently Mt. Lanakila," he then lists off his achievements, pointing towards Jake.

"On top of the snowy mountain, in front of the league, that's when Jake evolved into a Lycanroc. There's something mystifying about the moon in Alola, and under a full moon did we manage to reach that peak. I also got a killer tan there man! The beaches are nothing like you'd ever see. The waves, the babes, the hunks, everyone there was ripped! Alolans love to surf man! Maybe I can take your shrimpy little butt over there sometime and I can teach you how to ride a Mantine?" Tanner then asks with a cheeky ass grin. That seemed to be something Manuel could handle much better than hiking up a mountain.

Little did he know that this entire situation was staged by the tailor. The narrator only knows due to the other narrator, but Tanner? He had no clue. His big dumb heart was beating fastly here, and the words were coming out like vomit. Genuine human connection was something he was missing. Sure, the hikers he met were often fantastic, but more often than not they were either burly mountain men, dude bros like him, or those fierce sporty chicks. It was nice to just talk to someone outside of that sphere.
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Old 01-29-2023, 11:01 PM   #16
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Ask, and you shall receive—and what Manuel received was a lot to process in the little time he had to digest each name being thrown at him. Right now he counts... six? Or is it seven? However much it is, in the end, it’s a hell of a lot higher than he ever could’ve expected.

“I... wow,” says the photographer. His awed expression eschews the need for words, for even a simple-minded man like Tanner can read the thoughts going on behind those circular lenses; I need to write an article about mountaineering.

After all, that’s the way that Manuel has always been. If he has even the slightest curiosity about something, into the research pile he goes, absorbing knowledge and trivia like a sponge. The less he knows about a topic, the more he dedicates himself to trying to at least achieve some basic understanding of it—and, well, Tanner’s just proven to him that he has a serious lack of knowledge about the hobby.

“It must’ve looked quite pretty up there...” he says, an air of dreaminess in his voice. Casting his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, he tries to conjure up a mental image of that scene. Blurry shapes and colors fill his mind like smoke, but no matter how hard he tries, no vista comes into focus. He simply lacks the experience to even approximate such a grand sight.

While he’s spacing out, though, the topic has long since moved on. His thoughts needed to be dragged down from the clouds, and what better place to land than the beach? Now that’s a place he can picture much easier—especially if it involves Tan...ed hunks. Totally.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful! I’d definitely welcome the sunshine, and—wait, my what?”

Shrimpy. Little. Butt. Manuel’s face looks like he just ate a Skeledirge pepper. Taking it completely too literally, the photographer squirmed atop the chair to try and assess himself. Even with how flabby he is compared to Tanner, there's no way he’s that bad. His pride as a Kalosian couldn’t take that hit.

Oh, dear. It looks like Tanner might’ve broken him with that. What a shame that the tailor isn’t here to see the mess he’s made.

-----

Goto stands in the midst of his office, phone still clutched tightly within his fist. The text didn’t say much of anything, but he knew what it meant.

The rustic bulb that hangs overhead pulses weakly, unable to touch the corners of the room with its waning light. It’s a switch he seldom touched, seeing as the window beside his desk gave him ample light by day, while he worked under the electric glow of a jade desk lamp by night.

Indeed, the amber light cast upon this room only comes about when he has company—wanted or not. The tailor stares at the aforementioned window, its silk curtains flapping in the breeze as a cloaked Knoll lays crouched before it, peering through his Zoom Lens at the street below. The same window he’d closed the last time he was in this room.

“Everything’s still here,” Goto notes, sliding the wooden drawer by his chair to a close. Circling around the desk, he quickly double-checks the rest of his office furnishings—nothing else out of place, except for that damn window.

“Keep your eye on the buildings,” he says, glancing at the shimmering outline to his back, “they could be watching to see if we’d take the bait.”

Making sure to hide himself from any surveillance, Goto reaches into his jacket for another Pokeball. Whoever was here left a scent trail behind—a repugnant cocktail of saccharine, heady brimstone—and Yamper’s nose is needed to sleuth out where it leads. The quicker and quieter he can deal with this, the better—he has no doubt anyone wanting to find him wouldn’t hesitate just because he has customers in the store...
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Old 02-01-2023, 06:01 PM   #17
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Two kids with their hearts on fire

Tanner just blinked for a little bit. He could see Manuel go from enraptured in what he was saying to... this. Did he manage to break the man? That was a tad bit concerning if he ended up doing that. He was glad to see Manuel again, but perhaps he should tune down the jock dude-bro a bit? If he even could... that's how he was raised, after all.

Jake, on the other hand, just sniggered at the entire situation. The Lycanroc still clearly remembers four years ago, and the picture Manuel was definitely sneaking at the lake. The Lycanroc was then the one to take action, walking up to the freaking-out Kalosian trainer before putting a paw on his shoulder. A reminder to just "calm down."

"Thanks, Jake. Didn't mean to, uh, make you question yourself you know? Just kinda... how I talk," the jock replies with a sigh. He didn't really know what else to do here, so he just walked up to the broken photographer.

The Lycanroc stepped back, and before anyone could react Manuel was slung over Tanner's shoulders. Giving out a huff, Tanner then promptly sat Manuel down on one of the couches and stood over him. He stared intently, sighed, and started to speak.

"Sorry man. I'm me, and you're you. So don't try to be me. I don't try to be you, right? Once we get done with this, let's go to the beach. You said so yourself, didn't you?" Tanner told Manuel with soft eyes and a slight, cheeky smile.

Truly, the worst time for the tailor to be preoccupied.
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