Squire Hayseed

Freedom

Hayley plucked at the green linen cinched tight to her chest. It caused the little ruffles at the bottom to sway, a glint of silver showing underneath. The man leading her glanced back and must have noticed her frown at the fit.

"Too tight?"

"Huh?" she dropped her hand off her...upper chest part, and tried to smooth down her stomach as best she could. "No, no, it's..."

"I'm afraid most squire tunics are cut with men in mind, then tailored down for a girl's..." A strange thing happened. Knight Gavin had been as solid as a bar of iron, or a brick to the head, but as he took in Hayley's even more scrawny body as revealed by the livery wrapped around it, his cheeks burned bright. "Form," the man gasped out quickly, spinning on his heels to try and gaze out at the market area.

After being fitted by the giggliest man she'd ever met, Hayley stumbled out into the fading daylight in a long tunic, verdant hose, and a pair of breeches that cut off at the knees. It was livable, if not stuffy, especially the neckline which seemed to try to suffocate her if she twisted her head too fast. The expert showed up with a giant pile of already stitched together tunics, each of them bearing the symbol of the Seven Serpents. His job was to take it in, in the case of Hayley, or try to let it out wide enough to fit Marco.

The latter of which didn't entirely work and required taking apart two tunics in order to fit the giant. The boy didn't say a thing even as no doubt pins and needles kept accidentally pricking into his pale skin framed by dark tan arms.

There'd been a looking glass left in the room, Larissa hogging it every chance she could to admire how the green popped her hair color. Hayley only took a quick glance, noticing that the verdant hue turned her skin even more sallow than usual. She looked like a weed yanked out from between two filthy bricks that was left to wither on the cobbles.

"Your boots?" The voice caused her to glance up from her chest. Her knight once against shot a look over his shoulder at her, "How is the fit?"

"Good." Her tiny feet paddled back and forth in the leather slippers, but a handful of socks managed to make up the difference. It'd be useful in winter, less so with the heat of summer beating over them swamping her shoes, and dozens of sweating bodies pressing in around them.

In truth, this was the weirdest experience Hayley ever had in the market. People were avoiding her. They weren't looking at her, all their deferent bows and jolly tips of the head were to the man striding ahead, his amber eyes gazing over the proceedings. But they seemed to know she was with him, and that afforded her a weird grace period. Not worthy of attention, but no one dare accidentally stumble into her either. Like she was Gavin's mule or something.

No one was elbowing into her side, grabbing onto her hair...or other parts of her body that were barely in existence. The one perk about being as skinny as the rain, when there was less flesh for a random hand to grab onto, it was easier to fade into the crowd. On the not arm, more heel of a famous Knight, Hayley was both invisible while also important enough to not touch. It was a strange feeling.

The market was at its typical twilight setting as the day wound down, a few people hustled back and forth from stalls to try and finish up their lists. Most of those weren't worth tracking, but the drunks could be great for a few coins assuming one avoided the grasping hands. The giggly boozers bounded back and forth around the market fountain, all smiles and waves.

Carpets and cheap tapestries dangled against the horizon obscuring the last of the rays so they couldn't ping off the stained windows overlooking the square. A handful of bells banged and bonged from the high arches, but the church doors were shut tight. Clearly the clergy had no use for the market denizens wandering around to finish the day.