A bell chimed three times as we opened the door to the tailor shop. Rows and rows of clothes, headwear, pants, socks, and shoes lined shelves neatly. Wood and paint chipped along the walls creating grooves that I slid my hand across. The scent of cotton, linen, leather, and other materials wafted through the air making me nostalgic; I was reminded of a time where I would unwillingly frequent clothing shops with my mom. For a second, everything seemed to grow larger, and I seemed to shrink. The soothing melody of my mom’s voice echoed in my head. My daydreaming was interrupted by a flamboyant man’s greeting.
“Welcome, what can I do for you three today?” A chubby, dark man in a green blazer and slacks closed a box in the back of the building and hurried down the stepladder.
“Uh, we’re looking to get something commissioned.” I meekly responded.
The tailor leaned in over the countertop dividing us. Well, it was more like he was lying down on his stomach on top of it.
“Of course you are! The ‘B.’ in ‘Ozwald B’ stands for ‘bespoke’, eh? Something avant garde? Maybe… expressionist? What about… angel in the streets, Atrocity in the sheets?” Ozwald snapped his fingers above his head and flamingly gyrated his hips while considering all the possibilities.
“Mmm… nothing like that. It’s for combat.” I anxiously clarified before the tailor got carried away. Why was I doing the talking? Punch and Angel know much more about fashion than me.
“Ah, I see,” the tailor affirmed in a disappointed voice.
While refraining from providing too much details about my opposition, I told the tailor about some of the potential offensive magic I could be facing: lightning, high temperatures, extreme cold, stormy weather, and the elements. Bewilderment and intrigue filled his eyes, as well as the “mhm”’s and “I see”’s that were interjected between my bespoke requests.
“Sounds like you are warring with Mother Nature herself, eh?” Ozwald cracked a jest.
“Not right now, but maybe in the future,” I replied with a half jest.
“Alright, let’s talk payment. I’m going to need fifty gold coins to break even, regional standard print as well. For the service fee, let’s do ten gold coins since I like you three so much.”
“Got it right here,” I counted out the number of coins and split them into a separate pouch.
“Thank you kindly.”
Faster than any Atrocity, or any foe I’ve faced before as a matter of fact, Ozwald zipped around me. His measuring tape spiraled across my body like the scarf of a dancer. My face burned as he yelled out every single one of my proportions, paying no heed to customer privacy. The zesty positions which he bent himself in while measuring felt like a plump male model was finding excuses to ogle my body in different angles. In less than a minute, he was done.
“Come back in three days. Should have it done by then.” Ozwald ushered us out as he scrawled notes on a clipboard.
The angels and I explored what Reanth had to offer during the next two days. Between brothels that prominently featured rabbitkin and catkin, secret eatery dens that were almost exclusively known by locals, and bars that I was staunchly refused further admission into after one night, three days went by rather fast. We eagerly paid a visit to Ozwald’s to see if we got what we paid for. He did not disappoint.
As we entered the shop, the tailor wordlessly pulled up a briefcase. “Oz B.” was printed in a pattern on high quality leather that coated every face of the container. Unbuckling the locks, we were greeted with everything we had hoped for.
The contents of the case were of immeasurable quality. It was beyond what I had imagined. Style, function, and form—none were compromised within the meticulous stitching of this tailor’s magnum opus. It was as if gold light seeped out of the content’s of the case, flowing down like a waterfall and fogging up the ebony floorboard of the tailor shop.
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“Whoa…” Punch, Line, and I awed in unison.
Ozwald B. clicked the locks on the briefcase shut and met us with a smug smile, as he should.
“So, what do you three think?” Ozwald threw out a line, fishing for praise.
“It’s… beautiful,” Line marveled. She clasped her hands as if she was readying for a prayer.
“It’s exactly what we need, thanks, Ozwald.”
Time to go looking for who we came for.
‘A man with wispy gray eyebrows, a peppered long mane, sky blue eyes, and a mustache the shape of a cloud… A kind man. Too kind for the fate that’s befallen him and those he cares about.’ That’s how Line recounted the God of Tempests. She had accidentally bumped into him while she was rushing through the halls of the upper realms of the afterlife during an errand.
“Ohoho, careful, girl. Someone with less patience than me might have punished you for such clumsiness,” the God of Tempests kindly chided her.
“Sorry… I was in a rush,” Line’s eyes fixated on her feet and her arms were glued to her sides. She worried that any other movement might be interpreted as disrespect.
“No need to be so formal around me.”
The man introduced himself as Reshien, and he helped Line pick up her dropped delivery, a stack of newly crafted jewelry for Eleos. With the wisdom and humble paternity of a grandfather, Reshien helped Line carry the delivery to Eleos. He insisted that Line walked with him and chatted a while, a luxury angels seldom afforded. Anxious at first, Line was put at ease when Reshien told her that he would make sure that her patron would not get mad, as Reshien was one of his favorites among the upper pantheon.
The two meandered around a nearby garden, stalling their delivery to Eleos.
“… and each snowflake is completely different in their atomic structure. If you had the eyes to look at them up close, you’d likely spend an eternity trying to find two that were the exact same. And they call Phaestus the god of craftsmanship? Hoho!” Reshien chuckled. He looked towards Line’s face for a rough scoring of his joke.
Although the angel rolled her eyes, she couldn’t help but genuinely giggle at the old god’s pleasantry.
Reshien twisted his beard and slouched, relieved the angel laughed at last. Until now, he had only garnered eyerolls from her.
The two would have outings several times after their first lighthearted encounter. Friends was an understatement. Line, for the first time in her existence, found something close to a father; one more thing she had thought angels could never attain but humans could among the countless differences that separated the two. Angel feathers were often fetters that held the winged kind back from satisfying their human-like yearnings.
Line feigned indifference earlier. She acted as if she and Reshien were nothing more than mere acquaintances, but I knew a weight encumbered her heart further and further every step we took closer to our destination. Hang in there, Line. For the sake of the world and heaven itself.
***
We finally got a lead by a wolfkin that overheard us interrogating townspeople. We offered to buy him coffee in exchange for him telling us what he knows.
“I know of a man that looks exactly like that. He mostly keeps to himself, but I’ve seen him leave his house during some of the strongest storms to brood at the ocean,” the wolfkin man recalled in a hoarse voice. “He lives in the purple-roofed house at the end of town with the blacked out windows and broken weathervane. Sometimes people see Atrocities lurking around the outskirts of town near his place, but the man always comes out the next day fine. Makes you wonder.”
The wolfkin rudely puffed a cloud of cigar smoke our way and slicked his floppy ears back. I resisted the urge to ask if I could nibble on them.
“Thanks,” Punch huffed out between a cough.
“Any reason why your friend here is dressed like a gimp?” the wolfkin asked. He leaned in with a raised eyebrow. I blushed as I stared down at my full body latex suit. I just wanted to try it on, but it probably wasn’t the best idea to wear it out in public. I should go change after.
“Let’s just say we have plans later.”
“Whew, the three of you? Sounds like a good time. Mind if I join?”
Before I could even open my mouth to play along, Punch grabbed mine arm and led me and Line outside.
“Annnnd that’s enough of that guy. You two ready to pay Reshien a visit? We don’t know how the rot might have affected him, so be prepared for anything.”
After deciding to rest for the day, we made a commitment to finally see what the God of Tempests was up to. After I change back.