The downside of there only ever having been one Vahishta was that none of his fucking clothes fit, and nobody had ever had to tailor any new ones that weren't just replacements for the old. After spending a couple hours that morning with a seamstress, who had eventually thrown up her hands at the number of adjustments she'd have to make to force the old Vahishta's robes to fit the new one, the bishop had relented and allowed Duncan to wear his Earth clothes underneath the Vahishta's outer-robe.
Not that he hadn't been already, but. This time with permission.
Permission meant nice clothes, though. ('No you cannot wear that White Wizzard T-shirt, your all holiness.') Slacks and a dress shirt, black and white respectively. The shirt wasn't tucked in. Fuck, nobody in Zen realized that made it more casual anyway.
Still got to wear his boots, too. Nobody in Zen realized that was more casual, either.
The Vahishta's outer-robe was distinctive, recognizable to most players. More a coat than a robe, open, knee-length, with wide sleeves that ended at the elbow, white with heavy gold and black embroidery. On top of the business casual Earth-wear, it made for a...unique image.
Duncan looked up when Ezra walked in. He stood in front of the tree, his arms folded, looking up at the whole of it until his attention had been pulled away.
He'd met Ezra once, and hardly recognized him now. It was the context that told him who he was looking at, mostly. He turned to face him, echoing the gesture. Not with a grin. Sympathetic wince when he saw the eyepatch and scar. Couldn't help it, intrinsic response.
Ezra probably did not want him calling more attention to it than he needed to. Duncan rolled with the topic as though his reaction hadn't been there. "Fuck it, I'm down. Let's see if we can get Omid to think it was her idea."
He looked at the cleric who'd accompanied Ezra in, and nodded meaningfully toward the door. The cleric bowed and excused herself, leaving just the two of them alone in the Room.
"You guys really did a number on this place, huh?" Duncan said, scanning the Room's damage, folding his arms again.
no subject
Not that he hadn't been already, but. This time with permission.
Permission meant nice clothes, though. ('No you cannot wear that White Wizzard T-shirt, your all holiness.') Slacks and a dress shirt, black and white respectively. The shirt wasn't tucked in. Fuck, nobody in Zen realized that made it more casual anyway.
Still got to wear his boots, too. Nobody in Zen realized that was more casual, either.
The Vahishta's outer-robe was distinctive, recognizable to most players. More a coat than a robe, open, knee-length, with wide sleeves that ended at the elbow, white with heavy gold and black embroidery. On top of the business casual Earth-wear, it made for a...unique image.
Duncan looked up when Ezra walked in. He stood in front of the tree, his arms folded, looking up at the whole of it until his attention had been pulled away.
He'd met Ezra once, and hardly recognized him now. It was the context that told him who he was looking at, mostly. He turned to face him, echoing the gesture. Not with a grin. Sympathetic wince when he saw the eyepatch and scar. Couldn't help it, intrinsic response.
Ezra probably did not want him calling more attention to it than he needed to. Duncan rolled with the topic as though his reaction hadn't been there. "Fuck it, I'm down. Let's see if we can get Omid to think it was her idea."
He looked at the cleric who'd accompanied Ezra in, and nodded meaningfully toward the door. The cleric bowed and excused herself, leaving just the two of them alone in the Room.
"You guys really did a number on this place, huh?" Duncan said, scanning the Room's damage, folding his arms again.