He was obnoxiously casual in light of how last time had gone, but I reminded myself that it was allwater under the tree. He was clearly just better at embodying that than I was.
Chloe came back into the room just as I was leaving, clearly having caught the tail end of the conversation. She looked at me quizzically as she passed me, bouncing her eyebrows up and down. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, trying to communicate “there’s nothing to see here” as best as possible.
“Let’s take this chat to the bedroom, shall we?” Phil asked, faux-suggestively.
“At least buy me dinner first?”
“You’ll have to settle for a custom Ren Faire outfit, I’m afraid.”
Fatima’s house had two guest rooms; apparently it was the designated party house. I’d yet to meet her partner Jared, but given my situation, I felt quite jealous of the space, and the stability.
Phil opened the door to the first room we came to, and we sat down side by side on the double bed. I turned on my tablet and flicked to the drawings I’d been working on.
“This is so cool,” Phil said. “It’s kind of like ornamental armour.”
“Exactly!” That was how it had been described in the book I’d been reading, and precisely what I’d been going for.
“I’ll have to bust out the embroidery kit for the flowers, I think,” he said, zooming in on different parts of the outfit I’d drawn. “I’m not sure we’d be able to find a fabric that would replicate it like this.”
I frowned. “That sounds complicated.”
Phil shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I can probably do it with the machine, actually, which will be a lot faster.”
“If you’re sure,” I said, trying my best to give him an out, but I really, really wanted this outfit.
“I’m sure,” he said, smiling, and I let out a little sigh of relief. “Now, what are you doing for your Captain Morgana outfit?”
He looked mischievously over at me.
“Oh, I’m not sure yet,” I said. “She wears chain mail in the game, but that’s just because we don’t have enough money in-game for plate mail. And funny enough, I don’t have enough money in real life for it either. So honestly I was leaning towards a crap costume version.”
Phil’s shoulders sank. “You don’t want to try to make something?”
“I may be able to draw,” I said, lifting the tablet slightly, “but I’m far from crafty.”
“Well,” he said, wiggling his shoulders as if he just couldn’t contain his excitement, “how would you feel about some homemade chain mail?”
I balked at him. “I’m sorry, you know how tomakechain mail?!”
“It’s really not that hard,” he said, shrugging. “Just time consuming. But I’ve got nothing but time on my hands.” He said the last part quietly, as if it were an aside to himself.
“Well, I mean, I’d be up for it,” I said tentatively. “What kind of cost are we looking at?”
Phil looked pensive as he did his mental calculations. “If I use some plastic rings instead of metal, which is better for weight anyway, maybe seventy-five? We’d have to spray paint it silver, but that should be fine.”
Seventy-five pounds felt like a lot for a shirt, but the prices I’d seen online had been much, much higher. I reminded myself that it was just for one day, but then another, louder part of me insisted that looking cool on that one day was worth the investment. And hey, who knew, maybe I’d discover a new passion for cosplay, and it wouldn’t just be one day.
As I sketched it out on my tablet, Phil and I agreed on what the Morgana outfit would look like – we agreed that a surcoat or tunic may hide the chain mail a bit, but it would look more historically accurate, and keep me from getting fried alive by the sun – and then made a list of everything he’d need. I transferred him some money to start with the materials, making him promise to let me know if he spent more. Then we headed back downstairs, where the rest of the group was waiting for us. The tin of cookies Phil had bought was already down to just two, which had presumably been saved for us.
“Okay,” Fatima said as we sat down. “I believe you were about to enter the glowing chamber, right?”
“Damn straight!” Grey said. “Let’s do this.”
“I still think we need to strategise first,” Jack said, and everyone started arguing about what to do.
Without saying anything, Fatima slipped into teacher mode and brought everyone’s focus to her. It was always like this when we played – the anticipation was like sitting in a theatre waiting for a stage show to start, and I swore the lights even dimmed around us as she opened her notebook and picked up a handful of 20-sided dice.
Everyone took a coordinated sharp breath in as the dice clattered to the table, holding it as we all leaned forward to see the results, even though we didn’t know yet why she was rolling. Random dice rolls from the DM never bode well.
