The cloak upon the tigress’s head shifted slightly as her ears rolled back, listening with distaste to the canine’s skepticism. For all his words, he had done nothing in regards to their task but take advantage of her need to remain undetected. In fact, his near amusement betrayed a confirmation for her thoughts… when they returned to the brothel, she would make certain that the broad left their presence… perhaps even permanently. 

As his voice lowered itself to a growl, though, she found herself emitting the same, frustrated by his dedication to vilifying her position. She had been personally invited to such parties as these before, as would be expected by a warrior of her established caliber. She had personally seen the glamour of the lords and ladies who attended these events, such colors and designs that would put the entirety of those Tun’ayrukans to shame. In fact, she doubted even their Emperor could afford fineries she had encountered, given the shambles that their country rotted in. True, she had merely a handful of gold coin. Next to the wealth of the attendees, it was nothing, but even a chestful of coin would not be enough to purchase the regalia to be worn that evening. To find gold was better than silver, and should be able to acquire at least something of worth…or at least, something that appeared that way.

In the end, she wrote off his comments as mere foolery, designed to jab at her honor and hide his own ignorance and inabilities. If he chose to ignore her gains, so be it. It would only make it easier to acquire her own items. 

She remained leaning with tense silence as he departed, waiting a moment before disappearing back into the crowds herself, sighing softly as she took accountability of her needs. She couldn’t remain cloaked forever… but she was recognizable enough that even an accidental misstep could be fatal exposure. The mask shouldn’t be too difficult, given the coming occasion, as many nobles took advantage of the craftsmanship of the artesian class for their simpler ornamentation. 

The most difficult part could prove to be the other garments. Unfortunately, Shar’s speech had a touch of truth in this matter. As a knight in his majesty’s army, she had always attended in formal light armor, a respectful measure that offered protection should she need to come to his assistance. In fact, she had never attended a formal reception in anything but, which was going to make finding clothing an interesting proposition, to say the least. The muscles that lent themselves to her physical strength were unbecoming and unexpected on refined ladyfolk, but cloaks were expected to be left past the main gate. Furthermore, the mere prospect of a dress was foreign to her fur, having been accustomed to breeches and tunics since kithood, her skin prickling uncomfortably at the thought of wearing something so…billowy. One could not dash in a dress, nor could it protect her from blade or lance. The fact that such an article of clothing was quite preposterous, or at least in her mind. 

Ciscera was suddenly jarred from her thoughts as a large force hit her from the side, and she instinctively stepped into a defensive stance, piercing cyan eyes searching for whatever threat dared oppose her… yet no offender revealed his presence. Slightly offput by this strange event, she adjusted her cowl, taking one last glance before moving on. 
If nothing else, the jab came at a good timing. The hooded individual now stood before one of the many shops advertising bright and colorful masks, the hues ranging from the bright to the dull to the startlingly unnatural. A banner of equally startling hue dangled out in front of the wooden shelving, proudly proclaiming “The Hypnist’s Eye” for all to see. Smirking at the illegitimacy of the magic mentioned, Ciscera took one last glance before entering the door. 

From the first step she took, she could feel the temporality of the store. There was simply no way that a store of this specialty could take root outside of the princess’ birthday season, nevermind sell its stock a mere week from now. It was clearly renting out this space on the marketplace for the time being, as was evident by the few decorations, and the mobility of what existed. Nevertheless, a wide variety of masks and clothing alike were scattered throughout the wooden room, with a few doors cracked open in the back for fitting purposes. A wolf pup bounded up to her as the door shut, a decently made dress swishing at her legs as she approached. She courtseyed, her form off center and her seriousness broken by the happy lolling of her tongue…obviously the child of the current renter. 

“Good morning, Ma’am!” she said cheerily. “Welcome to the Hypnist’s Eye, the best shop this side of the city! Whatever you need, we have the clothes to make you look the best in the celebrations, and that’s saying something for this year!” Her pose and countenance quickly became more serious, however, as she realized the lack of effect her greeting had. 

Ciscera let her stand there, glancing over the items. Finally, the tigress spoke. “I am not here for the doo-dads and baubles you have on display, nor any mere garment. I am not merely attending the celebration in town; I have been invited to the court of the king. Do you have any merchandise suitable for such an event?”

“Of course!” The pup responded, turning to a nearby dress. “This one, in fact….”

“Don’t patronize me, girl.” She spat, silencing the wolf instantly. “I know quality when I see it. Show me your finer apparel, or don’t waste my time.”

“O…Of course. I’m sorry.” The pup responded awkwardly, barely managing a courtesy with her shaking. Indicating to one of the fitting rooms, she continued. “ Please follow me.”

Ciscera had never imagined how tedious of a process dressmaking could be, and by the end of the process, she had reaffirmed that she never wanted to resort to this kind of life. In order to properly size her, she had to undress, revealing her unique fur color and provoking a flurry of questions from the wolf pup. Nevertheless, after realizing she was dealing with a “relative of Ciscera’s,” her nervousness vanished entirely, replaced by a fervor of the most exasperating sort. She could have sworn it took half an hour to take initial measurements, nevermind see the first set of colored swatches. The warrior should have been glad her assistant was as easily fooled as this child was, but she would have enjoyed the quiet of mistrust far more than this bubbling enthusiasm. At least she seemed to know what she was doing, as whenever she wasn’t barreling happily around the room, she was lost in thought, sorting through what seemed like a limited selection of fine silks and fabrics to make only the best for the relative of her hero. 

Though Ciscera knew little about this form of clothing, she could at least find similarities between the nobles’ clothing and her own. The dress and underdress were of a rich red, the same as left by the crimson sun when it bled out over the horizon of the grasslands. A darker scarlet wrapped around her shoulders and her waist, with gold trim weaving the fabric together like living ivy. This effect was further amplified by the mask which bore the presence of gold tinted leaves on the crimson frame, hiding the majority of her muzzle behind the elaborate patterns. She couldn’t tell much about fit, nor how it fit her appearance, but the flowing sleeves and nature of the dress managed to hide most of her scars and muscles. She would have to find another solution for the fur, though… any more fabric would throw off the elegance of the outfit(or so the girl claimed), but her paws, neck, and head were visible enough to reveal her true ivory color. All in all, she felt preposterous, ridiculous, exposed, strange… but hopefully enough so to pass in the royal court. 
Gladly, she took up the simple brown cowl and reclaimed her old tunic and pants, reveling in the freedom of movement as the child wrapped up her new garment. The pride in the wolf’s craftsmanship was evident as she lowered it into her satchel gingerly, as if sending off a child of her own. “Tell your parent’s to direct financial concerns to the Lord of Grundar, little one,” Ciscera lied as she finished, shooing her off to tell her parents about the fictional arrangement. Satisfied with her work, the tigress readjusted her hood, departing into the evening marketplace. 

It was much quieter than earlier, much of the business having departed for the day. A low rumble in her stomach reminded her of exactly how long she had been there, but with few market shops still open, it would probably be better to request food at that despicable place she was returning to. 

 It wasn’t long for the low murmurs of the quieting market to be interrupted, however, as the sounds of angry shouting pierced the air. 

“Hey!” a wolf called, teeth bared in anger as he ran through the last patrons of the night. “The information you gave us was a fraud! Scoundrel! You need to pay for that!”

Avians and mammals alike parted to let the canine through; she heard the shifting of their clothes, and watched them enter the borders of her vision. She did not turn around, however: she heard his huffing and gasping as he slowed from dead run, stopping several paces back from her. “Did you not hear me? You can’t simply leave!”

Slowly, Ciscera’s steps came to a halt, her hooded person still turned away from the angry shopkeep. “I gave you my gratitude. Do not ask for more. “

“Hell on your gratitude!” he barked, stepping slowly towards her. She heard the swipe of metal against fabric… a knife, held tightly in his hand. “Return your purchase or die, cheat!”

She heard his feet pace slightly, unsure, unnerved by the stillness of her body. She heard them slowly gain purchase, then confidence, the canine yelling as he charged the hooded individual. With a soft swish, her own knife was pulled from her belt as she turned, intercepting his arm with her own blade. The wolf cried out as red blood spilled from his arm and he dropped to his knees, clutching his injury. The tigress was quick to take advantage of his weakness, using her arm to knock him over, sending him sprawling on the cobblestone laden ground. With a smile, she maneuvered her foot to step on the back of his arm, twisting her sole into the newly opened gash as he screamed. The crowd murmured amongst themselves as he yelled, but took no action, watching solemnly as she finally stopped, leaving him sobbing in the center of the street. Two guards approached to stop her departure, but she dropped the bag of coin at their feet as she passed; they nodded to her as she left, and the crowd quietly returned to their earlier activities, the canine left weakly whimpering in the closing market.

It wasn't long until the seductive signpost of the "Quivering Hills" was once again in view, causing Ciscera to involuntarily snarl with disgust. She would never of imagined having to take refuge in a place like this, nevermind with her current company. She brushed past patrons and dancers alike as she entered, paying no attention to the scantily clad product of this particular establishment, nor their amorous engagements as she approached the main desk. The leopard working the table barely had a chance to purr a greeting before the tigress interrupted, commanding a meal be brought to their room at once before stalking off towards their current residence. 

The door opened with a loud SNAP of wood on wood, before being drawn back with a slam of equal caliber. At this point, all she wanted was to sharpen her knife, take something apart, anything really. She was both exhausted and deprived from activity from the day's events, the contradiction itself making her slightly more frustrated as she entered the room. The tigress removed the cowl and cloak from her head, placing it lazily on one of the chairs with one hand as the other stroked her forehead in a halfhearted attempt to quell her own thoughts. It was at this time that she realized the chair wasn't quite where she had left it, having been put precisely back at the table. Furthermore, the bed was made, their clothing folded, their items laid neatly upon the neat piles. Her eyes instantly darted to the side, where -- thankfully -- Nimaron remained, untouched. It had better have been untouched, at least. A blade as fine as her's need not be held in the grip of a mere whore' s hands. 

Ciscera's eyes then darted to the corner of the room, where said whore was currently replacing a vase of flowers. She growled softly at the presence of such filth; both her appearance and what she represented was an all too real reminder of her current position, and Shar's connection to the fox both infuriated the knight and disgusted her. 

"You. Whore. Out." she growled, her voice alive like thunder as her cyan eyes penetrated the vixen's. "Leave," she added, grabbing Nimaron from the wall beside her, slowly raising the silver blade in the direction of the fox. "It does not matter what the cur says."

" If you return, I [i]will[/i] kill you."