Those usually perfectly squared shoulders were laden with burden. Neatly trimmed hair unkempt. Clothes falling apart. Of course Isaac had noticed. He hoped that what was on the outside was enough of a distraction for the things brewing inside. The mixture of emotions and feelings echoing through his torso like a ferocious stormcloud. He wanted to break down. He wanted to give himself to the earth. He wanted to take it all back but alas that was not in the cards. What had he done?
By the time he reached the doorstep of the costuming area, Dayton had managed to get himself (somewhat) together. He could do little for his outside appearance as much as he despised it. And he wasn’t going to desperate lengths to make adjustments.
“Excuse me,” Dayton called. He’d spoken with Astrid on the Network, promised to take her around and while she likely knew the layout better than he did considering they both were fairly recent additions. It didn’t matter, though. He was willing to help and the company would hopefully fair better than his last encounter. In his hands was an offering for her kindness - a simple but elegant bouquet that he’d tied together with one of the laces from his shoes. He didn’t need it. Well….sort of.
“I was looking for Astrid?”
Astrid was deep in the costume tent taking stock of the type of material she had. She had at least two projects lined up and she was taking the opportunity to start getting ideas. She was admiring a particularly beautiful brocade when she heard someone at the front of the tent.
“Hello!” She called. “Just a minute!” She set the brocade back where she found it and made her way to the front of the tent. She stopped at the sight of the man standing there, her eyes immediately widening. God damn he was hot!! “Hello,” she said, a silly little smile coming to her face. “I’m Astrid. How can I help you?”
“Ah, hello.” Dayton gave his best smile and offered her the small bouquet. “I was your next appointment. I need the finest suit your lovely hands can craft.” He was totally kidding her. “These are for you, and I promised to take you on a tour. An Ashcroft is always a man of his word.” She didn’t seem to be slighted by his appearance that he considered that a bonus. “If you don’t have things to do. I can take a rain check.”
He didn’t want to take her away from her craft, as much as he wanted to. Coming to find her had given him a sense of purpose he didn’t think he could feel again.
Seeing him at his best was what he hoped she would one day get to see. Clean cut, a picturesque figure of wealth and prominence. He’d even lost his familiar. A shadow of the man he used to be. Maybe he’d been cursed. His shoe flopped a bit on his foot as he scooted a bit closer but that was alright.
“Oh, thank you!” Astrid took the flowers, inhaling deeply to smell them. “They’re lovely.” She looked up as he continued to speak, her eyes widening again. “Oh! You’re Dayton.” She reached out to shake his hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm, no limp wrists here! “It’s so nice to meet you. I had no idea that –” you were so hot! “--you were coming by today! I, uh,” she looked around her. Then she looked back at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I’m still getting things in order around here. I think I have something to put these in.”
She started hunting around the tent for something, anything, to put the flowers in. A vase would have been ideal, but instead she found a waterbottle. That would just have to do. “There we go!” She said once she had them arranged nicely. She grinned over at Dayton. “This will keep them until I can get them back to my caravan.”
He chuckled at her, shaking her hand. “That’s me!” She had a firm grip which he found oddly comforting. When it was done, he let his hand fall back to his side. “If you’re in the middle of something, that’s alright. I can take a rain check.” Those soft browns slid around at the interior of the tent. “Do you need any help getting situated?”
The makeshift flower vessel was suitable for the task. He felt a lot like that same water bottle at present, but at least the label was still intact. “Beautiful!” He didn’t discern as to whether or not he was talking about the flowers or her, but he left it open for either.
“Ah, well…” she bit her lower lip casting a look inside the tent. She wasn’t exactly not busy, but she didn’t want to shoo Dayton away. Regardless of if he was extremely good looking or not, she really had been looking forward to meeting him and exploring the Cirque together. “I could use a little break,” she admitted, looking back at him. “Just let me put away a few things. Come on in and have a seat!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside the tent and over to a surprisingly comfortable chair. “It’ll only be a few minutes.”
Once Dayton was seated, Astrid went about tidying up her workspace. “So, tell me a little bit about yourself,” she said as she put away her sketchbook and the bolts of material she had pulled out and splayed over her work bench.
Usually his timing was better but since the sudden shift in his life, things had been more muddle up than he remembered. He promised himself to get better situated and recalibrated. Maybe things here at the Cirque would prove more fruitful once he had gotten his bearings. “A break is a good thing that now everyone considers as helpful.” He, himself was guilty of overlooking the need to rest and worked himself into a fit of exhaustion more than once.
He settled into the chair, relaxing into the plush cushions. “Please, don’t rush on my behalf!” She seemed eager to find a breaking point and he would let her, but there was something to be said about seeing someone in their element.
“Oh, where to begin?” Dayton chuckled. “Ah, I was born in a small New England town. We were a community of magic users, you know, witches and the like. All of the founding families have deep ties into a myriad of powers. Mine tended to the earth and specialized in earth based magic. Mother had a coveted greenhouse, our home sat proudly up on a hill with a landscape of decorated topiaries, manicured grasses, and hedge mazes. It was quite the sight to behold.”
Astrid listened as she finished tidying up. Dayton’s life before sounded idyllic, as though he had just stepped out of a fantasy novel set in the modern times. “Oh, it sounds beautiful.” She breathed. She wondered how Dayton ended up half way across the world and with the Cirque. It was at that moment she realized just how he was dressed, like he’d been living hand-to-mouth for the last several months…years, even? Then again, maybe he dressed that way on purpose?
“Uhm, Dayton?” she started carefully, hoping not to accidentally offend him. “Can I ask you something?”
Coasting on a good vibe from the old memories, he almost didn’t hear her ask. “Mm?” Those brown eyes blinked. “Oh! Oh! Yes, yes of course! Anything!” He sat up a touch straighter as if to physically imply that she had his full attention. While he had to keep some things close to the chest, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t admit to or offer up.
“I do miss my home,” he added on. He didn’t know what his ex had done to the estate or the grounds, but likely nothing was flourishing there presently. There was no witch with his magic to help tame the greenhouse plants or nurture the moving hedge maze.
“Uhm…” How should she phrase her question? She didn’t want to be rude and she certainly didn’t want to sound like some kind of snob either, especially if Datyon’s style of dress was by design. Astrid was a firm believer that how people dressed was a way of expression and such things were sacred. If Dayton wanted to express himself as Tramp Chic, who was she to argue….?
“Your clothes,” she started. Oh that already sounded horrible. “Uhm, I mean, I like your jeans.” Her face was turning a brilliant shade of red. She could feel it as her cheeks turned hot. “I mean…uhm….do you like them?”
A once perfectly manicured brow arched up as Astrid began. Dayton observed, noting the way she paused to consider her thoughts, that pink painting the pale skin of her cheeks. And then when she mentioned his clothes, his jeans, his eyes drifted down to the nearly threadbare denim. There were places where the blue had gone nearly white - around one knee and the crotch, up the backside - the other knee was blown out exposing flesh. “Well,” he cleared his throat. “While they are comfortable and well worn in, they aren’t my first choice.”
His posture changed. Shoulders squared, mouth split into a frown. He wasn’t his best and he knew she could see it. While he hated to look like a peddler or a beggar, he was glad that Astrid could also seem to read between the lines and understood that he was worth a lot more.
Astrid chewed the nail of her thumb as Dayton looked over himself. She’d offended him, she was sure of it! But he didn’t snap at her. Instead, he sounded a lot like someone attempting to save face. Astrid’s embarrassment melted away to – not pity, Dayton surely didn’t want people pitying him, concern was a better choice. She wanted him to feel good about being at the Cirque.
“They are definitely worn in,” she agreed. She did not let her eyes travel down to those threadbare spaces. Give the poor guy some dignity. “If you have a minute, maybe I can fix them up for you a little bit? Turn them into something more your style?”
“What do you presume my style to be?” He inquired with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of a refresher.” Salvaging the basic scraps that he’d been toting around for two years time. Thankfully they’d underwent cleaning - while he could handle the wear and tear he refused to present himself to anyone in soiled clothes if it could be helped.
It was a kind offer. He didn’t hear the dredges of pity in her tone which was highly appreciated. He still had his pride if nothing else. Genie hadn’t been able to take that.
Astrid shook her head. “I don’t like making those kinds of assumptions,” she said. “Everyone has their own style and someone’s personal style is extremely important. It's how you express yourself to the world! Everyone has their own way of doing it and it’d be terrible if I just assumed what someone’s style is just based on a few moments of conversation.”
She stepped away from her work table and picked up a robe from a little hook on a post. “Here,” she said handing the robe to him and pointing to a little changing room near the back of the tent. “Go change into this and let me see if I can patch up your clothes a little bit. While I do, you can tell me about your style and I can see about making you something amazing!”
Her answer was a good one. Dayton appreciated her honesty as well instead of being someone who might just tell him what he wanted to hear or play into what she thought that she might see. “You aren’t wrong there.” On many counts.
Dayton rose and accepted the garment, already pulling out of his shirt. If there was one thing that he wasn’t, it was shy. Likely he would’ve stripped down right there in the middle of the tent had he not considered her position, opting to duck behind the little curtain of the changing area.
Before too long he was back, clad in that robe and offering up the old fabric with a lot of character. “I am used to different clothes,” he began, offering her a smile. “Finer ones. Silks and satins, the best tailor made suits that money can buy.”
Dayton wasn’t modest, that was for sure! Astrid got an eyeful of powerful shoulders and a muscular chest that was enough to get her heart beating in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. She was a touch disappointed that he opted to duck into the changing room, but then again, she had instructed him to. She craned her neck just a little to watch him go until he pulled the curtain shut.
By the time he emerged, however, Astrid was all business. She had her hair tied up in a pony tail, a few layered strands falling around her face. She took the old clothes from him. Now that she had them in hand, she could see just how much wear and tear they’d had. Dayton obviously hadn’t bought them purposefully distressed. The way these clothes were worn was evidence of a hard lived life. That didn’t line up with what Dayton had told her about his home and she wondered what happened between this beautiful house in New England with the garden and here.
That would have to wait for another time when she and Dayton were better friends and she wouldn’t come off as prying into affairs that weren’t hers. In the meantime, she had a job!
“I don’t know if I can save the shirt,” Astrid admitted after giving it a once over. “The material is just worn too thin. Anything I try to do with it will just tear it. I’m sorry,” and she did look genuinely apologetic about this. “I have a few shirts in the back that you can have.”
The jeans, though, surprisingly were in a much better state, despite their weather and worn appearance. Quickly she set about patching up those threadbare patches of the jeans. The material she had on hand wasn’t a perfect match, but at least he wasn’t going to bust out of his pants while operating the carousel.
As she worked she took note of what he was telling her. Silk and satin. Tailored suits. She could picture Dayton walking through the city clad in a beautiful black tailored suit, looking dazzling under the sun. She grinned to herself.
“I don’t know if silk and satin is really appropriate for our kind of work,” she told him, casting a playful look in his direction. “But I have plenty of material here.” She pointed towards the back of the tent where the bolts of material were stored. “If you want to take a look and see if you find something you like, I can start on making you something.”
“Someone has to make the carousel look good,” Dayton countered playfully. He gave his best smile and lifted an arm to flex with equally as capricious tone as he could. “But I suppose that you aren’t wrong. I would hate to ruin such release fabrics in the heat of the evening.” The sun was enough to warm the air and the grounds, letting the climate carry over into the festivities of the evening. Ah, but he would miss those special suits, the strolls through town. Those little flower shops that his mother poured herself into.
The shirt would eventually be donned again. He wasn’t too concerned - the worst he could get were a few holes but he wasn’t sure if that was such a travesty with the consideration of those taut abdominals generally aching to be seen. But that likely wasn’t appropriate for his current spot.
“I shall browse and let you know what catches my eye. Thank you, as well.” For so many things. Her kindness, willingness to help.
And then he descended upon the bolts, browsing through the material to find something special.
“You’re welcome,” Astrid called after him. “After all, it’s my job to make sure everyone in the Cirque looks good!”
As Dayton looked over the fabric, Astrid continued to work on his pants. As she did she started to think of designs for him. Maybe he couldn’t (or rather shouldn’t) run the carousel in a silk suit, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have one! Something to wear during their off hours. She made a note to venture into town later to see what she could find. Something nice, something glamorous.
She was done after a few minutes. She held the jeans up to admire her handiwork. It wasn’t perfect, the jeans didn’t look brand new, but at least she had been able to make the distressed parts look as though they were that way by design. Most importantly, they weren’t going to fall apart around his waist.
“Dayton?” She joined him at the rear of the tent, the pants over her shoulder. “Did you find anything you liked?”
A couple of the bolts would be chosen. Dayton brought them back to Astrid, setting them gently down. “Ah! Those are great!” The jeans looked as good as they could and he was grateful. Wasting no time at all he slid back into them, peeling out of the robe to swap for his shirt.
And then he twisted around to show them off for her. “This may not be a photo shoot but I feel like a new man!” On the catwalk or in the costuming tent, that sense of newness had his confidence elevating.
“Of course there isn’t a rush on things for me,” he murmured. “Take care of others first. I’m not going anywhere.” So he hoped.
The way Astrid beamed, Dayton may as well have praised Astrid for hand tailoring the finest piece of high fashion the world had ever seen. Seeing someone truly happy for her work made her very happy as well. “I’m so glad.” she said.
She turned to the material he had brought to her. “Oooh…” she said, running her hands over the fabric. “This is very nice.” She glanced at him, then back to the material, then at him again, her eyes moving over his silhouette as ideas started to come to her. “Uh uh…uh huh….” she nodded. “Yes!” She clapped her hands and turned swiftly around to her work table. She grabbed up her sketchbook and started doodling. The tip of her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she sketched. She was thinking of his frame designing something that would show off that stunning body of his. Something appropriate for the climate they were currently in, yet appropriate for a ride operator.
Watching Astrid in her element was an intriguing sight. He could’ve observed her for hours in that form, as her creative mind and prowess for fashion tailored together something magical. He had a sense of attire, and was able to construct an outfit with embellishments and accessories like the best of them, but the options were sorely limited here.
Dayton retired to the chair from before, eying her as she worked. She seemed happiest this way - the edge of her tongue tucked between her lips and her fingers dancing across the porcelain canvas of page. He wondered if this was the same way that he, himself, looked when he was out with the flowers or making tinctures and potions in the kitchen back home. So in his element the way she was embedded in hers.
The sketch Astrid made was quick and dirty, but the concept of the outfit was clear: a pair of pants that were loose around the leg, but flattering to the waist and hip nice to keep him cool during the warm Hayderdad nights standing by the carousel. A button down shirt, fitted to flatter his torso and show off those broad shoulders of him. She hade hastily jotted down a few notes along the margins of the page in sloppy kanji. She held up the sketch for Dayton to see. “What do you think?” She asked. “It’s fairly simple, but for the type of fabric you’ve chosen simplicity is best.”
Approval shimmered in his eyes. Those bushy brows arched up with delight, “Fabulous!” Astrid had really gotten the gist of his style and it amazed him at the range of creativity she possessed. Just the spark of an idea and a whole creation came to be. He was anxious to see the real thing. “You will need measurements, I assume.” Which he also didn’t mind giving if that was her immediate need. He wasn’t really sure how he would ever repay her for her kindness but he was certain that a need would arise for his particular set of skills and when that time did come he would be ready.
Astrid beamed with pride. “I’m glad you like it!” She said and then nodded. “Yes, I’ll need to take your measurements whenever you have a few minutes to spare.”
“I have time right now if that’s okay!” Dayton was on his feet, already pulling apart the knot he’d twisted into the belt of the robe. He hoped that she also had the time to spare or would say so if she did not. Peeling away the fabric of the covering, Dayton folded the robe up carefully, respectfully, and stood before Astrid in naught but a fitted pair of black briefs with only a smile to be given.
Even if Astrid didn’t have the time, it was hard to turn down the very attractive man in front of her. A bit of color hit her cheeks and she caught herself staring at him. “Oh, I have time,” she said a little coyishly. Then proceeded to stare for another half a minute before she realized she was supposed to be doing something.
“Measurements! Yes, right!” She set her sketch pad down and retrieved her tape measure. She came back with it in hand and was back to business. “Arms out,” she instructed.
“Oh! Wonderful!” Dayton’s grin shimmered and he set the robe aside for later. She couldn’t get good arm measurements if the limbs were occupied. While he’d gotten a little lax with his workout regimen, he was still fairly cut and his physique wasn’t too far from where he was used to having it. You didn’t need a gym for a workout, but sometimes you did have to get a little creative with your surroundings.
Dayton’s arms went out as if he was attempting to be an airplane. “As you wish!” Each time she asked him to move, he did. Legs twisted for an inseam, arms rotated for measurements there. He didn’t mind the coolness of her touch or the prickle of the tape measure as those pressed upon his skin.
Astrid set about taking measurements, jotting the numbers down in the margins of her sketch pad. She definitely found Dayton to be a very attractive man and she took the opportunity to admire him, while at the same time being as professional as possible. He might not want to come back and see her again either professionally or friendly if he caught her ogling him. Besides, now wasn’t the time to ogle, no matter how much she wanted to.
“You’re being a really good sport,” she said as she measured his inseam.
“I know when to behave,” he chuckled, holding as still and tall as he possibly could. There was no doubt that he had good posture. His mother insisted that he learn to walk with a straight back, proud shoulders, holding his chin high. Dayton was never one to disappoint and so he’d learned early on to walk as if he had purpose, and that was no different as he stood there with Astrid. “I would hate to burden you with more work than needed.”
He could’ve stood there all day in her capable hands, letting her work. It felt almost close to normal again.
Sadly, there were only so many measurements Astrid could take. She got to her feet when she’d finished. “All done,” she said with a smile. “I have a few projects I’m working on right now, but I have enough time that I can get you some new clothes pretty quickly!” She picked up the clothes she’d mended earlier to hand to him. “I still have a few t-shirts in the back,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a couple to have in the meantime?”
“If you’re offering, then it would be rude of me not to accept.” Dayton accepted the clothes and slid back into them. They felt different, new but old, though even with her additions they still weren’t him. That was no fault of hers. He made his way to the back and got a few of the shirts she’d offered, coming back to the front. “And I shall make my leave! Thank you again for your kindness!” With a last wave, Dayton ducked out of the tent.