Reflection and Outfit

The ceiling was only just high enough that Wanderer didn't have to crouch, the engraved rock above them almost scratching the top of their hat-like head.

Yet the roof was the least of the Golem’s worries, the piles of fabric at their feet being far harder to dodge as they were hurried further and further into the room.

Emio, in particular, was not happy with the situation, squirming violently in Wanderer’s arms.

Yet their guide was uncaring of both their discomfort, far too consumed in her own issues of figuring out what to make the two wear.

Finally, the group came to a small clearing in the racks and piles where they were directed to stand still and wait.

Heruka stood back a few steps, shawl flowing around her as she did and inspected the pair.

Seemingly without thinking, she reached out to take Emio from Wanderer’s arms.

The verdestry however, had reached their breaking point, tired of being dragged around and stuffed in small rooms with strange people.

The instant Heruka reached for the small monster, she was met with vicious rebellion, as four deadly tendrils raised themselves into attack position, and a low groan emitted from Emio.

The tailor backpedalled before tripping on a stray ball of yarn and coming crashing to the ground, all thoughts of clothing banished.

Wanderer instantly reacted, calming the stressed verdestry and placing them in a nearby pile of fabric, where they anxiously stayed, eye trained on the tailor.

Seeing as they were unlikely to calm the stressed monster any more, the Golem then turned their attention to the woman in front of them, already beginning to sign apologies.

Heruka, to her credit, had already stood up and collected herself, waving away the Vessel’s apologies.

Yet even Wanderer could see the slight look of unease on her face, the way her ever-present smile was just a little more forced, and how her placations took just a moment longer than they should have.

But what could they do?

How could they reduce this newfound fear in them?

As they were so accustomed to do, Wanderer’s Spirit spoke and provided a solution, or rather highlighted the lack of one.

There was little they could do, the guide confirmed, short of expelling Emio or leaving themselves, neither of which would end well.

Indeed, the only thing there was to do was wait, and prove that both the Golem and Emio were trustworthy.

Resigning to accept their Spirit’s suggestion, Wanderer removed their satchel and placed it next to the verdestry, before waiting for Heruka.

After shaking off the shock from earlier, the clothier took a few steps back and began to analyse the Golem, an uncomfortable experience for the Vessel.

“My my, you have seen a wearlio of Orshkara haven't you?”, the woman asked, “I have treacale many stories of your kind, yet I can't say you fit the mareo of any of them”.

Wanderer was about to clarify as best they could, emphasising their difference from the rest of their kin, when a thought materialised in their mind.

“Why am I so different from the others?”, from what the Vessel could tell, all Golems looked similar, all except Wanderer.

“Who is at fault?”, was it their Spirit, who was as unique as Wanderer’s form and hated the violence that other Golem’s spread.

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Was it their unknown parent, who abandoned them before they were created.

Perhaps there was no reason at all, a whim of fate, a random chance.

Seeing as they did not know, they posed the question to their Spirit, and explained to Herukah as they waited for their answer.

Yet, their Spirit seemed reluctant, exuding that same emotion they tended to when they knew something, yet did not want to share.

It irritated the Vessel, as they were used to honesty, but they had learned their lesson from the last time they pushed their Spirit and Wanderer didn't want to hurt their relationship.

Eventually, the guide came to a conclusion, they would tell the Golem, but not right now, they would do so when Wanderer had time to process what they had to say

Part of the Vessel wished to insist anyway, but they saw the logic in the Spirit’s wisdom, and turned their attention back to the woman before them.

“Enough talking, it's time for me to do my work” she announced, and hurried the Golem to yet another corner of the backroom.

As Herukah began the process of matching fabrics and clothes of all kinds to Wanderer, the Vessel began to grow bored of the process and looked around the room.

In truth, not much had changed about the room since the last time they checked, one alcove being little different to another.

The clothes and fabric racks and piles were equally as discordant, the room cluttered just the same.

Yet between the two areas, there was one major difference, towering in front of Wanderer, flat against the wall, was a mirror.

The Golem was almost shocked at first, so long had it been since they had seen their own reflection, yet as they looked closer, they found it far different than the one they remembered.

It was the same form of course, same hat-like head and four arms, yet so many minor details had changed that Wanderer found it hard to realise their body as their own.

For one thing, their arm was still red from when they dipped it in the oil, yet not quite as bad as it once was, their Spirit’s claim proving to be true.

When they looked a little closer, they found the scars of their struggles, areas where the once flawless patterns of gold and bronze that adorned the Vessel’s clay body had been disturbed and broken.

Wanderer wasn't quite sure how they felt about it, in one way, it was a symbol for the pain and suffering they had endured, the mistakes they had made.

In another, the scars stood as representations of all they had survived, conquered, a physical manifestation of the journey and growth they had achieved throughout their short life.

And of course, there were the more commercial indicators of their travels, all contained in the satchel around their chest.

There was the crumpled letter and the books they had yet to learn to read, all taken from the room deep below the earth.

There were the many coins they had found, in red, white and blue, which glinted in the low light of the small room.

There was the flare-bow, loaded and ready to be used at leisure.

And finally, at the very top of the chest, was the dancer in its box, voice waiting anxiously to be freed.

Yet the Vessel did not wind the lever, although they wished to, they had no need of it now, instead turning their attention to the least, or perhaps, most obvious element of their form.

Because just by looking at themself in the mirror, Wanderer could tell they were simply better, their limbs moved with confidence, their gait solid, their gem eyes shining in the low light.

Just in the way they existed, they seemed different from the scared, confused thing that woke in the cave, the struggle of their journey creating them anew.

Finally, they turned their gaze inward, toward their Spirit, blessing and soul and found the notion of their renewal supported.

Wanderer could vaguely remember, toward the beginning of their life, that their soul was little more than a cloud of magic, something that was still forming itself, something still new.

Now, it had coalesced itself into a tight ball of power, dense and alive, and the Vessel could sense there was more growing to do yet.

Perhaps that was why the Golem did not realise that their soul took physical space as well as magical in their early life, perhaps their soul had not even formed enough to materialise.

Their blessing was still providing power to their body, unchanged to all observations, but what drew the Golem's vision the most, was their Spirit.

Without Wanderer even realising, the guide had grown in both size and power, the magic of exploration bounding off the creature in waves.

Truly, they had grown throughout the journey just as much as the Vessel, even beyond the breadth of their power.

Finally, Wanderer turned their eyes to their final friend, the ever-reliable Emio.

In contrast to themself and their Spirit, the Golem could hardly say that the verdestry had changed, still the grumpy, inquisitive monster they had always been.

But what Wanderer did realise, was that they were discovering more and more about the little cacti creature, things they had not previously known.

Their curiosity, their laziness, their fierce loyalty and their nasty temper, all these things were aspects of their friend that the Vessel had to learn about.

“I'm done!”, Herukah announced, tearing Wanderer from their contemplation, “and this has to be perlaklio of my best work yet”.

And indeed, the tailor was finished, because there, in front of Wanderer was a set of flowing robes, made especially for them.