Those Blue Pajamas
(The following is elaborated upon from an implied event between Rachael Wynter and Dyarhk. Some liberties might have been taken and is subject to editing. I hope you enjoy.)


It had been a very relaxing walk through the market with Rachael Wynter on a day set aside for such an activity as pajama-shopping. Dyarhk, the man known as 'The Palliator', had not learned his lesson from some weeks ago when he, Rachael, Hikari, Danu and Evan came under attack after hours in the arena in a situation his axe would have proved quite useful to have, but he did not. He noted then to carry it everywhere he went, for emergencies. The man had not learned his lesson. He walked, carefree as a bird down that street in fine-fitting faded denim with a sword belt and that willowy Danish longsword, and bright red sneakers with white soles and laces. A canary yellow dress shirt of a finely woven cotton was worn with always rolled sleeves to his elbows. A telling of dark skin and chest muscles indicated down those unbuttoned uppers that it was the only shirt he wore, as well.

Untamed, but something reserved. At least was his dress anyway.

?Let's try this place.? Dyarhk said, swaying the direction of their walk into a store that was not so prolific or enormous, but had a nice selection to start with. He thought about Koy's boutique, and wondered what it might offer in their low-budgeted, simplistic ballpark. But you couldn't make just threads for royalty all the time, right? Surely they sold the ordinary along with the unordinary, was his thinking. ?How about this set?? he presented it to Rachael.

It was not so hard to be insulting to a woman and her size with pajama-shopping. You wanted space to move around in and not be so form-fitting or doing those other more complex tasks women's dresses were capable of. Which wasn't to say pajamas weren't either, which was why they were going to take their time this morning. The set he'd produced for her was a simple white and purple polka dotted pair of pants with, what read on the tag, a ?Sleep Tee,? something that balked him. But that was a cloud-like white and had a cute drawing on the left breast area. ?What do you think??

It had been a start. This place was much too small for a changing room, but it was perfect for getting a feel of things. And it looked like they'd be browsing around for some time. Items were only picked up and examined here before their hangers again found their previous roosts on those metal racks. He had to remind himself he was also shopping for a pair today. A handful of that black mess of hair and a look was given to Rachael who shared a similar one. This was not such a good selection. So they made on their way out with him giving a friendly, sorry you didn't have anything we liked wave to the store attendant. But the morning was still young, and their determination strong.

They searched on a number of other stores, even stopping to acquire some chocolate-covered churros and coffee during a brief recess. Apparently he had unusual eating habits as another fit of laughter had been produced by him akin to the one had with a sparkling grape juice bottle malfunction. But it was a good thing he thought to be able to eat comfortably and be goofy around someone. Not everyone laid the welcome mat out for such a thing, in his mind at least, and packing an arsenal ever-prepared to produce his favorite thing, a smile, he was fortunate to be able to use such artillery with an unspoken permission.

Time was well on its way to the lunch hour, and their feet were just beginning to tell them that they had been walking for some time. But just then, a miracle happened. They stumbled upon an oasis in the desert, as it were. A rich, vast shopping plaza that had adapted to many 20th Century ways, such as automatic glass sliding doors and air-conditioning! Such was one shop they walked into and stepped both their unique footing on squeaky clean white tiles. A field of music played ubiquitously around them from tiny circular speakers Dyarhk couldn't quite place all their locations on. At least, though, it had been relaxing.
Glancing around, he stood beside his shopping partner and examined who else had been shopping, as well as the ongoing lobby that only branched to other long open spaces of more things to browse and purchase. A forest of clothing racks (divided into gender, age, occasion, and sometimes combinations of the three) overwhelmed them, and Dyarhk often showed a sign of relief when he and Rachael came to a ?You Are Here? map. It was a funny thing that they enjoyed this together, seeing as there had been actual couples there that were accompanying their ?significant others? on a more forced and obligated nature. But this was not such an issue as it was being prepared for Taneth and Rekah's sleepover. Dyarhk already had his wooden sword ?forged? by Charles, renowned carpenter of Adenna and very good friend. Under the guise of a ?Sleepover Watchman? he'd wear his own pajamas on the eventual night. But those pajamas required obtaining first.

Coat hangers collided together as Dyarhk inspected a fine rack of men's pajamas. They were not elaborate with decorations or patterns, and instead were quite masculine and suited to the task of sleeping in or perhaps fetching a midnight sandwich. Yes, he had hit the jackpot. Rachael, in cool pose, had been standing nearby while he browsed, and when he produced a pair she ceased her shift of weight that had been on one leg to a more prepared and ready to walk stand. She next sat on a polished and smooth wood bench with a mirror wall to her back while she waited on the man in question to come out of the dressing room. Was this so necessary for pajamas? Yes, yes it was. And while she held her clasped hands between her knees waiting, his door unlatched, and the man stepped out sock after sock in tag-strewn navy blue pajamas with a white piping. His broad size told all in this pair of shirt and pants, but it felt very soft against his skin, and it gave a friendly and inviting nature to a very unfriendly and uninviting looking man. He looked to Rachael for her opinion.

?Well? Does it look terrible?? he did a turn for her, holding his arms out when he came to face her again and show how those sleeves must have looked down his arms.

?Non.? was what he heard from her, and reassuring words and perhaps enough to make him pout out his lower lip and nod understandingly. Sold. Cha-ching! He stepped back out in his original clothes with the folded pajamas tucked against his chest while he tried and fix that shirt's hang he wore. The yellow shirt just decided it was going to wear differently, and after a sigh he had no objection to that. It was Rachael's turn. On into the lacey, colorful forestry of clothing racks marked ?Women.? Women, who shot him glances walking alongside Rachael and ever-insinuating about the people they saw. It did not aggravate, nor displease him, evident by his faint blush at imagining the subject of their whispers. They were not together, no. But ask him, and he would tell you the great privilege that came with waiting on Rachael's sorting through nightwear.

She had moved onto another rack, having completed what was offered in the one Dyarhk still stood by. His indifferent eyes of a lentil green gazed over the garments and some were cute and some were plain, and then some were nearly transparent and lacey paired with a tiny stringed cloth Dyarhk remembered holding up not so high to make sure it was what he thought it was. Rachael also hit jackpot, and hers was much more rich with lavish treasures than the men's department had. He was surprised when he was asked his opinion on this, on that. And his answers were perhaps even more surprising. ?Oh. That's cute.? ? ?Yeah. That one's real nice.? ? ?That would look great on you.?

He sat down to the women's version of that wood bench now with a pair of gargoyle sunglasses on, still the price tag hanging from their rim. He took a deep breath, awaiting on Rachael's sampling of a ?few? items she pulled. Each one took a rather high-grade smile from him, and one even took those glasses right off his face for a visorless view with none of life's rich colors shaded. His approval undeniable. He was surprised though, when she was finished and they were walking out from the dressing rooms that she had asked him if he would not mind looking at something while she checked out.

What a peculiar thing to ask.

He stuffed those hands of his into his pockets with some effort, being they were not exactly made to accommodate such a size. But he made do and nodded to her, turning and heading for the openness of the mall while she made back into the store. It was likely next he'd see her, she'd have her purchases in a non-transparent shopping bag (like all damnable shopping centers) and it'd cost him an arm and a leg and perhaps a broken something if he tried to find out what it contained prematurely. He could only assume she was acting upon the union of uncertainty and anticipation. More mall music.