[center][h2][b][color=20B2AA] Jandar Varan [/color][/b][/h2][h3][color=20B2AA]Ruined town[/color][/h3][/center]
After his conversation with Fatima, Jandar felt somewhat tired due to the resignation that burdened him. True, the Queen’s thankfulness was just refreshing enough to keep him going, but it couldn’t keep tension from building within him. In his certainty that something would go wrong, quiet dread pooled in his stomach. Sighing and fussing with his hair, Jandar decided he needed to refresh himself. Not only would it help his guise as a rich merchant, it would also lift his mood. Now, if only he had the opportunity to indulge in some whiskey…

Heading to their carriage, Jandar asked the nearest available Eyrien brother for help finding a bucket, a full waterskin, and something to work as a clothesline. With the help of craft, he set the simple rope across their camping grounds, tying one part to their carriage and another to a tree. Then, he set a box next to the bucket, poured water in it and set the empty container aside, stripped down to his underwear, summoned a hand soap, and scrubbed his current clothing by hand. When the matter was done, he set it out to dry. 

With a snap of his fingers, he applied a sight shield to himself, and set to washing his beige linen underpants. Then, his own body and hair, using a more luxurious soap than he had for his clothes, as well as a fancy shampoo. Though he was technically streaking, he wasn’t embarrassed – he had set himself to be invisible after all. If someone purposefully broke past his sight shields…well, he’d rather they didn’t, but the result would be on them. Still, he didn’t take more than ten minutes to finish up. He then summoned a fluffy white towel, dried off, then set it to dry on the clothesline. 

What would be seen from his activity at the moment would be his footstep, the water dripping down from him and the towel and leaving a trail, and various items moving here and there as he used and moved them. He perched on the box he’d set out again, and got decent. This included clothing himself in a freshly summoned set of underwear, a pair of expensive dark slacks, and a burgundy dress shirt. Finally decent again, he removed the sight shields and set to cleaning his boots. He did have a vanished set of dress shoes, but it would be pointless to wear those when he was to pose as a travelling merchant. So, he wiped the boots and polished them as best as he could. After wiping of his yet-muddy feet and putting on soft cotton black socks, he was finally set to wear the almost shining leather boots. He did so, then summoned his whole backpack, rifling among his belongings for a few odds and ends.

First was a perfume, a sort of subtly heady scent that blended hints of citrus with a sort of woody fragrance that was overall light, but long lasting. A drop to each wrist was enough, which he then held gently to the base of his throat and behind the ear lobes to spread the scent. Next, he found an elegant black-silver cravat, thankfully not wrinkled, and tied it properly around his neck. A dark gray vest came over it, which matched his slacks in color. Then, a black leather jacket, which he put on but left opened at the front, the material of which was worn enough to lend credence to the travelling part of his story, yet obviously also well taken care of. A cherished, serviceable, sensible piece of outwear for a merchant. Lastly, he found the perfect piece of jewelry, a silver brooch that he could lodge his Blood Opal jewel into. When he did, he pinned the jewel-encasing brooch onto the breast of his vest, in plain view. He Vanished the rest of his belongings. As for his hairstyle – not that much could be done with it running just long enough to barely get into a short ponytail – and makeup, he’d need Fatima’s help with.

He stood up, stretched, and noticed Dareen, who’d apparently sought him out. He thought it might have been to discuss her role, but she simply asked him whether he’d be willing to die for Fatima, though it was obviously a rhetorical question. Nonetheless, Jandar turned to her. [color=20B2AA]“Yes,”[/color] he confirmed, matter-of-factly. He could have said more, but there was no need to, as far as he was concerned. Quickly moving past the odd moment, the Warlord instead chose to discuss their guises. [color=20B2AA]“Now, as to what role you’d like to play…Fatima suggested you could simply go as a fighter, though if you do, I prefer your idea of trying to pass as a male. If you’d like to attempt it, I believe you could still pass as my wife, but whether you’re capable of acting meek yet naively rich enough is for you to decide,”[/color] he commented. [color=20B2AA]“I will act as a merchant, as discussed previously,”[/color] he added, just in case it was not clear yet. 

[color=20B2AA]“My Uncle is one, after all, and I know enough about business,”[/color] he offered. He’d heard Fatima’s suggestions, but really, what she’d said on how best to play a part, he already knew. He had already done so before, in fact. But it was advice that might benefit Dareen. If the warrior woman asked him, he’d advise the male-mercenary role for her. That way, he himself would need not fear to have to compensate for his ‘wife’ in case she did anything too odd. Mercenaries were often looked down upon – which wasn’t bad in this case, as it would allow Dareen to show some of her innate roughness – but their use was nonetheless recognized, and so pretending he was in employ of one would not be at all unusual.