Credence Barebone Potter (obscurence) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2017-10-10 21:14:00 |
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As far as George could tell, Halloween was a lot like Carnival in the Kingdom of Italia, except with a lot of plastic and mass-produced costumes instead of exquisitely hand-made ones. He found it fascinating to go through the options. He’d been in the Broken a few times on Halloween, but he’d never had a chance to dress up himself. He would’ve liked a chance to, back then. Maybe this was his chance to do so now. The costumes that had attracted him as a child, however - the swordsmen and the pirates and the heroes - no longer had as much appeal to him now that he’d had personal experience with them all. He bypassed those and wandered over to a section of costumes he’d never seen before. It was bright. It was garish. He had no idea what it was. If Credence were being perfectly honest he was feeling slightly edgy about being in this location in the first place. He knew that his Ma would have been horrified at the very notion of costumes and dress-up for Halloween. Not that it seemed to be as widespread at home as it was here, but he'd walked past what appeared to be ghosts or demons, the very thing Ma would have decried hundreds of times over. But then again, she also would have and did decry Credence. And those that accepted him here, accepted all of this and did not seem to think that it was something dreadful that they needed to be afraid of. And so he was inside the costume shop wandering. The mixture of costumes was, in and of itself, interesting. Surely there could be nothing so bad about pretending to be someone else for an evening? "Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized as he managed to bump into someone else in the shop. His eyes darted up, and then away, and then at the costume as a way of managing to not look at the person he'd bumped into. "That's…" he didn't know what to call it. "That's bright, a nice costume." George did a quick, discreet check of his belongings as he tried to place the man who’d just bumped into him. He made the connection about the same time as he ascertained his weapons and gadgetry were still on his person. “No harm done,” he replied. He spoke with a faint twang reminiscent of the locals in the area. Speaking like the locals, he’d discovered long ago, got them to trust him more quickly. Credence - for that was his name - didn’t speak like one, which was why George dialed down the local dialect. “Do you know what this is supposed to be? It’s Credence, right?” Credence's gaze darted up slightly wide-eyed, but he recovered from the surprise of being known as he put some things together. It was someone from the network, he'd had lots of titles he remembered now, they'd had a good enough conversation. He nodded. "Right, it's Credence," he affirmed and then realized he couldn't remember a single one of the man's supposed titles. "George, yes?" George was the sort of name Credence could remember. It was simple like muggle names frequently were, which wasn't always something people on the network had. "I don't. I… the costume, I don't know much about costumes," he stammered. "There are some rather frightful things here, but that doesn't look it." “George, yes.” George didn’t mind not being called by his given name. While the titles were useful to throw around amongst people who valued class and status, his preference was much more low-key. Besides, people tended to underestimate him when he didn’t come with the backing of the Southern Provinces. He turned his head to look back at the garishly yellow costume in front of them. “Jamaican costume,” he read. “That doesn’t sound too frightening. Just unnaturally yellow.” And why anyone would wish to spend money on this, he wasn’t sure. But evidently someone must, for it to be made available for purchase. Credence nodded his head in agreement. Yellow was not so terrible, and perhaps could even be enjoyable. After all, mostly Credence had not had much in the way of color in his life. He still felt awkward at times getting dressed here. While he was reasonably certain his clothing was fine, it was neither the suit he was used to wearing in New York, nor was it some of the more casual things that people wore here. And it never quite felt as if it fit. He wondered if there was the possibility that you could find clothing that would fit, not just, the measurements were all right, but when you put it on you would know that it was something you were meant to wear. Costumes were probably not those things. "Are you looking for a costume?" He asked George instead. "I thought I would see what there was and look around a bit." “I was browsing,” George replied, moving away from the yellow monstrosity. “But nothing’s catching my eye so I may have to give up.” What he’d wear to the Come As You Aren’t party - or whether he’d go at all - still had to be determined, but at the moment he couldn’t see anything he was interested in. “Are you?” He looked at the other man, whose body language seemed to be apologizing for being here - or existing, even - in the first place. It should have been a simple enough question, but Credence felt caught off guard by it. He was, and yet he also wasn't. He wasn't certain he should wear a costume at all, his mother's voice was in his head and he knew that she would not approve that she would cite all sorts of evils. And yet, at the same time, he knew that Helena would want to dress up. He would need to do something with Helena and he had no doubt that it was the good thing to do there. Not to mention all the other things - namely magic - that he was doing now that his mother would rant and rave about. He took a breath and shrugged. "I think so. I don't know what exactly though. Um… we don't really do costumes where I'm from." Credence could see out of the corner of his eye something that looked a bit like a Robin Hood type, and he let his gaze rest on it. Dressing up like a hero seemed like the sort of thing one couldn't disapprove of. The voice in his head was silenced a bit - not a lot - but enough. "Do they do costumes where you're from?" “Of a sort,” George said. “We have masquerade balls, and the masks we wear Seeing Credence’s attention shift, George shifted as well - closer to the costume that had gotten the other man’s attention. Credence didn’t seem bold enough to just step over and look - George wondered why - so he thought he’d help out. If Credence wanted to continue their chat, he’d have to move along closer to the costume as well. “It’s a bit of an adventure for us both then, isn’t it? This trying something new.” Balls and masks were the sort of thing his mother would certainly not have approved of, but Credence had to admit that it sounded… fun? If he had a mask on, wouldn't it be easier to just do what he wanted to do and not worry about what someone thought of him particularly? They wouldn't even know it was him. He could be someone else. George seemed to still be talking to him. When people did this it always surprised Credence. He was so used to being overlooked, unless perhaps he was being yelled at. But people here tended to not really do either. Well, some still overlooked him, but just as many seemed to offer friendship. "I suppose so," he offered in return. The costume did sort of look fun. A bit cheaper close up than it had maybe looked from a distance, but perhaps that was also part of the point. It wasn't for forever, to be worn every day and handed down to a sibling, it was for a night. It was just pretend. "I think, I mean, Helena has a cartoon like this," he looked at the Robin Hood costume. "Only it's an animal." Then he realized George might not know who Helena was. "Helena's... " how to describe her. "Well, she's sort of like an adopted little sister I guess," he shrugged. "I stay with Albus Potter, and she's his daughter." “Ah,” George said, as if he understood perfectly. And despite Credence’s disjointed explanation, there was enough information there for him to put together what the other man was trying to say. He turned to look at the costume more closely. “It seems to be a popular one,” he remarked. There was enough space on the rack to hold a good quantity and a variety of sizes, but only a few hung on the rack now. “I’d suggest if you’re interested, not to wait too long.” He had a suspicion that Credence was the type who would, left to his own devices, hesitant and second-guess himself until all the costumes were gone. Credence looked up at the costume, noticing albeit somewhat belatedly in comparison to George, the situation that he had noticed. There weren't many of them. He considered the sizing uncertain if it would look good on him or not. He supposed he could always get it and if it didn't, return it. Presumably. Stores seemed to allow that sort of thing. "I'm not certain if it's the right one. Although…" he looked at it almost wistfully. He hadn't read many books. He was vaguely aware of the cartoon fox being based on a book character, or a legendary figure, but fictional accounts of any variety had not been smiled upon by his mother. The fox, however, had confidence and charm in spades, and Credence could use a bit more of that if he were being super honest with himself. "Maybe," he concluded. Before he could think about it again, he reached up and got one down from the rack looking over to defend his actions to George. "Just in case." But George didn't have something yet, and Credence supposed he should help him somehow. Considering he didn't know what half of the things in the shop were, he wasn't certain how he could do that. "Do you want to be something scary or something showy? Or something else?" There was no judgement in George’s gaze though, only a small smile of understanding. He might not know the significance of the costume or what it had to do with a fox, but he did understand wanting to be someone else for just a little while. Maybe taking on the character might even give Credence a bit of self-confidence. He seemed like the sort who’d had his beaten down far too much over the years. George knew the look he saw on Credence’s face: that of cowering deference. That of someone who had been abused and told of his unworthiness over and over again. It was the look George’s brother Jack might have developed if they’d had the misfortune of being born in the Weird, where changelings like Jack would be taken away to Hawks and turned into mindless killing machines. “I think I’m going to think on mine a little more,” he said. “I don’t know this world’s culture enough yet to pick one I’m entirely comfortable with.” That was a lie: He knew plenty - if not everything - about this world’s culture. He’d gone to school in the Broken as a kid, and he knew what the usual Halloween costumes were. He just didn’t see the appeal in any of them anymore. “But come,” he continued before his own reticence could make Credence second-guess his own choice, “Let’s get you this costume before someone else decides they want this size. Just in case.” "I understand," Credence offered. "I would feel the same way if I hadn't been here for a while. Helena watches a lot of cartoons anyway and that gives me some information about the place, if not everything. I still feel as if there is a good deal I don't know." And that was true. He still felt as if there was so much he didn't know about Tumbleweed or even just this year. But he was learning and people seemed surprisingly willing to help him. And anyway he could probably pull off Robin Hood. Probably. He smiled and nodded as he tucked the costume a little more firmly under his arm. Just in case. |