[center][color=#008b8b][h2]Fionn MacKerracher[/h2][/color][/center]
[hr][@Raineh Daze][@VahkiDane][@Eisenhorn][@Crimson Paladin]
[hr]

While Fionn had been somewhat concerned about having regular clothing for any trip around Talderia, he'd been [i]more[/i] concerned for the sake of the others, Fleuri in particular; letting one of the most proper knights in their band wander around in his arming jacket and hose, extra laces dangling everywhere, would be unacceptable. No matter [i]how[/i] clean they were beneath the armour. If anything, that just served to confuse him—before he decided to chalk it up to just another strange feature of this other-world Merilia had pulled them into.

Thankfully, they'd managed to find something he was comfortable wearing as well, so he wouldn't have to decline his own suggestion and walk around dressed for battle.

As they walked, he trailed at the rear of the group, taking in the various sights as Florian pointed them out. He didn't have much of an opinion on meeting Prince Erion aside from the thought that the rest of the group really ought to be around as well—but the decision was made before he'd even thought it might be necessary to voice it, and Florian led them on to the castle.

[color=#008b8b][i]Ah, well. What's the worst that can happen?[/i][/color]

As they stood and waited for Florian to return, it seemed the answer to that question came in the form of Randon's shameless, appraising stare. For the first minute, it was easy enough to ignore. Going into the second, Fionn found himself trying to avoid acknowleding the Hundi's presence whatsoever, resisting the urge to try and adjust his clothes under the gaze. He turned his head away, trying to peer down his own back as much as possible. It wasn't like he was wearing anything [i]outrageous,[/i] after all. A thin shirt, simple trousers, and a thicker tunic over the shirt, his sword and dagger belted at his waist. The most stand-out trait any of the clothing had was that the hems of the tunic were trimmed with a different cloth.

The fit wasn't perfect—it was tighter across the chest than it ideally should have been, but it was nowhere near the level of what Cyrus had chosen to wear and [i]tear.[/i] There weren't any stains on it that he could see, either, nor on the trousers. What, then, could Randon have seen?

At the third minute he turned around entirely, still looking down his back. [color=#008b8b]"There's a hole somewhere I can't see, aye? That's what you're staring at?"[/color] he asked Florian's tagalong, finally breaking the silence. [color=#008b8b]"Or are the seams pulling out around the collar and shoulders? What [i]is[/i] it, Randon?"[/color] Fleuri, Rolan, and Sergio were well and truly forgotten by that point as Fionn's agitation only grew. He'd been the one to bring up finding proper clothes for them to wear, after all, trying to maintain their reputations as knights and the reputation of the Iron Roses overall; he couldn't well show up to meet with a long-dead prince looking like he'd only learned how to dress himself the day before.

[color=#008b8b]"Really, you couldn't have told me if something was wrong [i]before[/i] we came all the way out here?"[/color] he grumbled. [color=#008b8b]"I can't well meet with a prince with my tunic pulling itself apart, like. Come here, help me find where the seam is trying to tear!"[/color] As he gave his command, he lifted his hands up, pulling at the shoulders of the tunic and turning his head back and forth trying to peer down like before.

Absorbed enough in trying to find whatever flaw he thought Randon was looking at that he didn't even notice Florian and Prince Erion had arrived just before he spoke up [i]about[/i] the prince.