Oblivi and Nova made their way out of the alley, emerging into a more bustling district. Nova took in the full sensory overload of buzzing conversations, the aroma from crowded food stalls, and shopfronts packed with displays of trinkets and garments. Oblivi smiled faintly at the sight of him looking around.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah, sorry." Nova collected himself. "Just point me toward the tailors, and I'll handle it from there."
Oblivi stepped ahead, gesturing for him to follow.
As they navigated the street, she noted, "You still need to approve my new uniform. So I have to go with you."
"Don't you already have one?"
"No, I don't. You probably didn't notice, but there's an insignia stitched into each of our uniforms that makes them official for real sect duties." Oblivi tapped the corner of Nova's parchment. "This emblem right here confirms this document was officially recognized in Abide-Grymsnow."
Nova recalled seeing that exact mark when Mimi had sifted through his papers. "So why don't you have yours? I would assume you would've had one already."
Oblivi turned her gaze away. "It's kind of a long story." She folded her arms, curling inward slightly.
"We could talk about it if you want to," Nova offered.
She kept her eyes forward. "I said it was a long story."
Quiet settled between them until the faint sound of a shop bell broke the silence as they pushed inside. Although the storefront appeared spacious from the street, rows of mannequins in voluminous, ornate gowns left barely enough clearance to walk side by side. Even with the tight aisles, the shelves of fabric and textured textiles lining the walls lent the room an inviting coziness.
From the rear workroom, a steady, rhythmic chugging was heard.
"Do you hear that beautiful sound?" Oblivi murmured, her smile returning.
"That beautiful sound?" Nova echoed, puzzled by her choice of words.
"Let's check it out." She hurried ahead, leaving him to follow her lead.
Rounding the corner, they found a stocky, short-statured man hunched over an active sewing machine. Beads of sweat tracked through the wrinkles of his face, while a young assistant was busy dabbing his brow with a cloth.
"Pop-pop, we have guests," the girl announced quietly.
"Mhm," he grunted.
"Pop-pop, they look like they're actually here to order something," she pressed.
The old man offered only a dry, raspy cough in response.
Smoothing her apron, the girl turned to greet them. "Welcome in. I'm Valentina, and this is my grandfather."
"That's an unusual name. Are you not from the region?"
A hard elbow caught Nova in the ribs. "Don't call someone's name strange," Oblivi hissed under her breath.
Valentina offered a polite wave of her hand. "It's quite all right. My grandfather is foreign-born, though I was born right here in Grymsnow. He's lived here for around one hundred and eighty years now."
"180?!" Nova blurted.
Oblivi drove her elbow into his side once more. "Be quiet."
Vale let out a quiet laugh. "I assume he's just unfamiliar with local lifespans."
Nova studied her, taking in her youthful appearance.
Noticing his appraisal, she shifted on her feet. "If you're trying to guess my age, I'm 18," she clarified. "I promise I'm not secretly 34, though being from a mixed heritage means I'll likely outlive you."
Oblivi stepped forward, cutting through the banter. "Sorry, but we're here for sect business." Pulling a card from her pocket—engraved with Oblivi Ward S.15-01—she presented it to Vale. "Sect uniforms specifically."
Vale's eyes widened. "We'll get started right away."
She moved to stop her grandfather's work on his current garment, but Nova caught her shoulder, gently halting her hand. "No need. We aren't in a rush—let him finish what he's doing."
Oblivi scowled. "Nova, we need to—"
"I've lived on the streets working hard for myself, and he's doing honest labor for his family," Nova countered, grabbing a nearby wooden stool. "Find something to pass the time; I'm not interrupting a craftsman in the middle of his work."
Oblivi opened her mouth to bring up the Mimi incident, but the conviction in his gaze stopped her. Even having been with him for less than a week, she knew he wouldn't budge once his mind was set.
"Fine. We'll wait," she conceded, sitting on a table and holding her hands in her lap.
"Thank you," Vale mouthed silently before returning to her grandfather's side.
Six hours passed by. Oblivi eventually nodded off, while Nova passed the time examining the shop's tailoring, admiring the art.
"It's finished," a hoarse voice wheezed.
The tailor braced both hands against the table, groaning as he eased his aching back upright. Vale reached out to support him, but he gently shooed her away, shuffling forward on tired feet. He reached out to offer Nova a hand, but Nova didn't take it. Instead, he pulled the stool forward and set it directly behind the elder.
"Respect yourself before you respect me," Nova remarked.
The craftsman inspected the young leader, studying him with the same intense curiosity Nova had shown toward his granddaughter. "What might your name be, young sir?"
"Nova, sir."
The old man extended his hand once more. "An honor to meet you, Nova."
Nova met his grip this time. "Likewise." The craftsman's palm was dry and calloused from decades of labor, yet his grip remained steady and firm.
"It isn't every day someone affords an old artisan's time such respect," the elder chuckled softly. "Though that's enough formality. I have kept you far too long; it's already nightfall."
"Don't worry about it," Nova replied, gently nudging Oblivi awake. "We came for sect attire, but this is my first time being in a sect overall, so I need some guidance on standard cut. Oblivi here figured you were the right shop for the job."
"To start, I must know which generation your sect is," the tailor sighed. "Last I knew of the previous generation, they vanished without leaving a trace."
"15th generation," Oblivi answered through a heavy yawn.
Vale jotted the detail onto a notepad. "Do you have a specific aesthetic or functional preference in mind?"
Nova pondered while Oblivi gravitated toward a mannequin. "I'd like something like this." It was a black cape jacket with a collar that went up to the mouth, styled with a broad neck tab.
Vale's face brightened. "This is my design! Are you really interested in that design?"
"With a few tailored adjustments, yeah," Oblivi replied, trailing a finger along the seams.
Vale wheeled the mannequin toward the back fitting room with Oblivi, leaving Nova and the master tailor alone.
After 20 minutes of weighing fabric cuts and tactical utility, Nova looked up. "Sir, I think I have an idea of what I need."
He stopped short—the old artisan had dozed off sitting upright on the stool.
Before Nova could say another word, Oblivi and Vale stepped back out, comparing sketches on the notepad and chatting in low voices.
"We'll return tomorrow," Oblivi called out, catching Nova by the sleeve and pulling him toward the door.
Once outside, Oblivi asked him if he had decided on a uniform.
"I did, but... Uh, what's the old man's name?" Nova realized he had forgotten to ask the tailor's name, even though the man had asked for his.
Oblivi gave a casual shrug. "I forgot to ask too."
Nova stared at her incredulously. "How could you not know!?"
"Well, I'm not that familiar with them cause!-" Oblivi's voice dropped to a whisper. "It's kinda my first time being inside the shop."
Nova blinked. "What."
"I was too embarrassed to go in before you came!" Oblivi shouted back.
"Embarrassed of what? There's nothing to be embarrassed of!"
Under the streetlights, Nova caught the darkening of Oblivi's cheeks. He glanced back through the glass window, watching Vale help her grandfather into the living quarters before turning off the shop lights. The realization clicked into place, and a grin spread across Nova's face.
"I didn't know she got you bent out of shape like that."
Oblivi clamped a hand over his mouth with an iron grip. "I will kill you."
"Hmmmummhm," he muffled against her palm.
She pulled her hand away, narrowing her eyes. "What?"
"I said, 'Let's try again and see what happens'."
Oblivi rubbed her temples with an exhausted yawn. "I'm going home. It's too late for this."
She turned to walk off, but Nova caught her by the wrist. "Umm, do you think I could crash at your place for a bit?"
Oblivi yanked her hand free. "No."
Nova darted around to block her path, his hands clasped together in desperation. "Please, I kinda have nowhere else to go."
Oblivi pivoted on her heel, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "You literally have everywhere to go. Didn't you get your card?"
Nova perked up. "Gods, you're right, I gotta go." He offered her a hasty handshake and broke into a sprint down the plaza.
Oblivi stood beneath the streetlamps, watching his figure vanish into the night.
He probably has no idea where he's going, she thought to herself.