Logs:Measures

Measures
Dramatis Personae Daiki, Lucien, Marinov	2021-11-11 "Magical Mischief with Taylor Marinov."
Location <NYC> Omakase - East Village
The establishment is small and easily overlooked, marked solely by black calligraphy of its name in both English and Japanese on a white ground where it is wedged between a retro ice cream parlor and a vintage boutique. Inside, the restaurant is appointed in tasteful but plain black and white with occasional judicious use of red, the decoration consisting primarily of sumi-e scrolls. An elegant long bar invites interested patrons to watch the sushi chefs at work, and besides this there is only space for a single row of booths plus a few cafe tables at the front. Tucked at the very back, past the restrooms and kitchen and available only by specific request, is a washitsu whose plain rice-paper doors conceal a startling departure from the austere appearance outside. The tatami and the low table ringed with zabuton are standard enough, if high quality, but the walls are adorned with colorful and evocative ukiyo-e prints depicting actors, warriors, courtesans, and monsters of Japanese legend. Hundreds of paper cranes dangle from the ceiling on strings of varying lengths, swaying gently in the faint breeze from the circulation vent. It's late, but that hasn't stopped this restaurant from being packed, the dining room outside still bustling. That is out there -- in the back room there's a quiet to be found and that is just how Lucien likes it, tucked away in a privacy that serves him well these days. His shoes are nowhere in sight; he's dressed in a slim-fit charcoal suit with white pinstripes over an arabesque brocade vest in an intense cobalt that accentuates his ice blue eyes, a pale blue dress shirt cinched with a gray chevron tie. Though the table is set for three, at the moment it is just him, kneeling on a cushion with a cup of tea cradled in his hands while he waits, eyes half-closed as he savors both his temporary solitude and his first small sip. It is rare to see Daiki deviate from his usual style in public, and even more rare to see him do so in a way that might draw attention. Though his outfit tonight certainly holds no candle to his recent Halloween costume, it may still raise a few eyebrows with those who know him well. His black suit is a marriage of far Eastern and Western fashion, conservative yet striking in its design: the single-breasted jacket has a mandarin collar but opens in front to show the white stand-collar shirt underneath, its collar, cuffs, and hem accented with gold trim to match the ornate yet flat frog buttons, the trousers pleated much more deeply than is usual, their cuffs also trimmed in gold, his black patent leather shoes accented with spats in a gold seigaiha brocade. That he is a familiar face at this establishment is not difficult to see, judging by the warmth with which the maître d' greets him. It is perhaps even more telling that the man's eyes hitch only briefly on Daiki's companion before he bows yet again to conceal his discomfort, although that may just as easily be the influence of their other dining partner at play. He shows them both to the back room with admirable celerity that he manages to pull off as solicitous hospitality and not the desire to get Marinov out of sight as quickly as possible. He toes out of his shoes before entering, bows deeply to Lucien, and kneels across from him. "I hope we have not kept you waiting long." He does not, admittedly, sound particularly concerned on this point. There is some tension in Daiki's companion's shoulders as they are glanced at by the maître d', but relax as attention is, as it should be, back on Daiki. They are dressed in an outfit that seems like it is an elegant fusion of a copper coloured dress and a capelet coat, with a brown belt forming a cross shape at their waist. The autumn look is completed with a yellow chiffon scarf that is not far from the colour of their eyes, a wine coloured strap that rounds from their shoulder to their waist, and a few pieces of wooden jewelry. Despite having clothing that is meant to attract attention, there is the distinct sense that they are trying to make themselves a bit smaller while crossing the floor. Marinov stands with some momentary awkwardness as they decide whether they ought to remove the leatherette bandings around their lifted ankle that they use to at least have something on their feet as an accessories, lacking proper human footwear. They decide against it, enter after Daiki, and quietly shift the door back into place before their eyes scan around the room to take in the new surroundings, settling on Lucien. They nod deeply in greeting towards him as they find their place to follow suit and kneel down at and remark, "I adore your vest." Lucien lowers his cup when his company arrives, head dipping in a small nod as the others seat themselves. "Do you?" There's some amusement buried in his tone when Daiki speaks; he leans forward to upturn the other two cups, pour out tea for the others as well. For Marinov, more sincerely: "High praise, coming from you. Our paths have crossed regrettably infrequently but every time --" His hand tips out toward them, "you have looked nothing short of spectacular." A small twitch tugs upward at a corner of his mouth. "-- Though I spend enough time around Ryan that I do get to enjoy some of your spectacle with a bit of regularity." "Hope is a tricky beast," Daiki non-answers, "but I do appreciate the opportunity to be fashionably late without courting disaster." He studies Lucien's vest, too, but only nods his assent and murmurs a quiet "thank you" for his tea. To Marinov, "Your range is so much broader than your exposure, for reasons I'm sure no one can fathom. It's a travesty, and the world of fashion is poorer for it. But." He lifts his teacup in both hands. "Luci is both highly persuasive and acquainted with certain swaths of high society..." "Thank you," says Marinov, the perk in their ears and the curl of their tail showing how much they enjoy the compliments, "I can't think of a time in my life I wasn't obsessed with fashion, even when I was a kid, I would make sure that my dolls were the finest dressed in the neighbourhood. Even the exposure I've received has felt sorta like a dream come true." They cup the teacup in both their hands, inhaling the steam that rises off of it before drinking from it. "Based of what I've seen of you on stage and in passing, I had little doubt that you draw other talented people into your circle." There is a momentary glance towards Daiki as they mention 'talented', though their eyes move just as fast down to the tea. "So it feels kind of affirming that you noticed me at all." Lucien's eyes open a little wider, a soft huff of laugh escaping him before his next sip of tea. "Oh! Oh, what a delightful mental image --" quickly segues, with no actual change in the simple joy that's blossomed in his expression, into, "-- or perhaps a disturbing one, if I imagine your clients now with little dollhouse counterparts. It seems a perfect avenue for some sort of magical mischief." His head shakes, and he sets his cup back down. His head inclines in acknowledgment of Daiki's words. "The Hellfire Club and the stage both do bring me into contact with a certain set. I will consider my connections well-used if I can do my part to make the world a little bit sharper." "He can always use more talent in his circles." Daiki is aiming a meaningful glance right back at Marinov here, allowing a small lopsided smile. "It probably makes dealing with the rest of his circles a bit less tedious. Luckily, your clients don't need talent to pay you for dressing them sharply." The very slight widening of his eyes behind his glasses is the only tell for his delight, though probably Lucien can also sense the stronger pull of Daiki's powers, now -- to Marinov, it likely only serves to make his next words that much more interesting. "Magical Mischief with Taylor Marinov," Daiki intones, pulling one hand away from his teacup to sweep an invisible banner through the air, "is your new YouTube series teaching children to design and sew. It will be glorious until Hollywood somehow rips it off for next year's American Horror Story." Marinov giggles when provided such imagery. "As much as I agree it is delightful, I'm sure my clients wouldn't have the same appreciation of having their tiny, stylish selves looking back at them, or any other resulting mischief! I would very responsibly reserve any shenanigans for non-clients." They take a careful sip from the tea cup, their ears still swivelled in Daiki's direction even though they seem to speak more generally, "As fun as a YouTube vid for kids would be, I think that the algorithm would not show me favour. But," they bow their head, "In the physical world, I would for sure appreciate any attention I could get. Not just because fabulousness is its own reward-- and it is-- but at some point I would hope to have enough pull in the industry to better include people with... unconventional measurements." "Halloween Netflix special," Lucien decides, after Daiki proclaims the title of Marinov's imagined show. His head inclines again at their words, hand tipping upward. "Mmm. If you do achieve that pull the world will no doubt be better for it. It's -- hardly the same, but I know I've been grateful beyond measure when I can find those willing to work around my own --" The hesitation in his words is noticeable, if only just, "-- sensitivities in costuming; I can only imagine it's magnified a hundredfold when everyday clothing isn't even made to your measure." His fingertip traces a slow circle around the rim of his teacup, eyes briefly drawn to the swivel of Marinov's ears before he lowers them. "Certainly, my influence can only work so far against entrenched bigotries, but. The promise of connections, of cachet, in the circles I move in these things conquer a good deal of people's tendencies. I cannot promise you Rihanna, but if there's a client you've been dying to try and land, if you've your heart set on a particular event, I will see what I can do." Daiki sips his tea delicately, his eyes keen with interest even if his body is still. "I truly do wish I were more at liberty to make help you make those kinds of connections, but my first obligation in that sphere is to Eli and by extension to Halcyon." He bows his head and sets his teacup down. "All the same, I will be very glad to see your designs in the limelights more for its own sake and yours, and gladder still to see your broader dreams realized." He glances at Lucien thoughtfully. "I doubt very much if there are many high-calibered clients who would care much about that cause, or any cause to do with mutantkind whatsoever, but I am sure there are a few who would be happy of the controversial attention they are sure to garner being seen in Taylor Marinov couture." He inclines his head. "But I thought it worthwhile to address whether or not you would be interested in or at least tolerant of getting exposure that way." Marinov nods a couple of times quickly, "Oh, yeah, and I've appreciated the advice I've received from Eli, and I definitely wouldn't want to put you in a conflict of interest or whatever when it comes to him." They place the cup back on the table and then fold their hands together in front of themselves. "Mm, comfort is often at the forefront of my mind. I don't like to be touched in certain ways or to feel too restricted in my motion, I try and be understanding when it comes to that sorta thing. It's only fair, yeah?" They tilt their head thoughtfully, their tail thudding against the floor a couple of times with a thud. "While I would prefer to work with people who respect my artistry, I do understand that sometimes it is worth courting controversy to get more eyes on something. I don't mind using it, but I would hate for that to become my entire career, seen as controversy without substance." They chuckle and add, "But if Rihanna even noticed me, I'd consider that a success in and of itself! I will appreciate anything you do to help me advance. There are for sure people I'd love to work with and events I'd like to be involved in." "I don't know," Lucien agrees with a small tilt of his head toward Daiki, "how much success I will have in finding people who share your ethical aspirations -- certainly openly supporting them will be a tough call. I think finding clientele disinterested in shock value and sincerely interested in showcasing your talents -- might be a slower climb," he says a touch apologetically, "but a more worthwhile one. For your brand and your soul both, I expect." He's pulled his phone out of a vest pocket, paging through it briefly. "The Club is having a gala later this month. If I were to find someone -- respectable. Non-odious. Perhaps few notches lower on the theatricality than Ryan. It will get a foot in the door with other such appointments." Daiki's eyes dip briefly to his hands, his smile light but pleased though his powers do not flutter, this time. "I look forward to doing a fashion exclusive with you -- if I may be so honored, and if you feel so moved." He leans forward, giving some small expression to the excitement he is skillfully containing. "I think that, soon enough, it will be gauche not to notice you." "An exclusive?" says Marinov, eyes bright at this, "The honour would be all mine!" They seem amused as they continue, answering Lucien, "I do not mind taking a few scuffs on my soul here and there in pursuit of my larger goals, but ultimately... I think a slower climb will be better for my overall integrity. Anything worth doing is worth doing right, yeah?" "Goodness, is the world ready for that much excellence?" Lucien's smile is visible more in the warmth that lights his ice-blue eyes than in the rest of his largely flat expression, but it's a clear satisfaction there all the same. He drains his cup, sets it down, his fingertips resting lightly on his menu and pulling it nearer, though he doesn't pick it up. "-- and I have always thought so. Life is too short to do things by half measures."