#xavierre

Most people hadn't known Esredes before his life completely changed, and because of this, they didn't know how it changed the way he dressed. The fact was, Esredes was a noble. He understood everything about how dress factored into a situation, how to attempt to use it to impress- so on.

But once he became a harrier, all of that mostly vanished. It was easy to blame that on his existence turning into survival in the wilderness- dress was nothing but practicality, at that point. Yet even when he was made legally a citizen again, some could argue it never recovered.

Someone once told Esredes, wearing his usual red tabard outfit, that he dressed like a classy homeless person. Whatever that oxymoronical description was supposed to mean. It was a strange playful insult to process, for he certainly never considered it so. It was just a plain outfit to blend in he found comfortable, and that was really the whole crux of it. Yet day in and day out, Esredes wore the same few outfits. Go to work in his business casual blue, change back into the tabard, layer on Heilyn's coat, or perhaps go in the middle and pull out his trusty winter coat holding on after all these years. Always straddle that line perfectly, never too formal nor informal. If there was a fancier venue, then use the bliard. If there was a ball, his formal outfit. Besides All Saints costumes collecting dust, his two sets of armor, and a few very specific occasion outfits, that was all he owned.

Dress was a strategic move to Esredes, for the most part. He needed to look right to fit the situation, which was usually to look unassuming and not draw attention. Esredes hated attention. "Yet you commonly wear bright red and dress to stand out in a crowd," Alvere once remarked back to that. "It's not bright red. It's crimson. That's not bright." "Among the blacks and greys of Ishgard... Its bright." "It's really not that impressive," Esredes argued back. "People only remark on me not wearing red if I'm not. It becomes my entire identity, just a single color. And it might as well be." Who cared what he said about it. The point was, when all possible situations had articles of clothing accounted for, what was the point of owning anything else? Maybe he did look like a classy homeless person. That just meant he wouldn't stick out in the Brume, right? So it was all perfectly fine. The less impressive, the better.

In light of the Final Day's events on Limsa Lominsa, there was a ceremony held where the Admiral herself gave people medals for their deeds in defending the city-state. Esredes was already beside himself with surging emotions at being so close in proximity to the Admiral of Limsa Lominsa, but if that wasn't already enough, he felt underdressed. No one told him the Admiral would show up. He thought it would just be a celebration party. He didn't bring, hells, he didn't have anything to wear to a formal military ceremony. And so he stood there awkwardly in his plain red tabard as he made eye contact with the Admiral, and got a medal just for being stabbed by a Sahagin.

If being stabbed was all it took to receive a wounded medal, his house would be overflowing.

Still, the whole ordeal left something behind in him, like an aftertaste, but not enough to make him truly act upon it without the whispering of someone more professional wanting to encourage him to go a Knight ball he was worried he'd ruin if he showed up to. He'd always had Heilyn, the weaver next door at work, he'd made the coat Esredes wore nearly every day, after all. But the twin brother of one of his movement's spies, Xavierre, a professional tailor, had his own visions in mind for the man. Esredes knew his motivation, of course. Xavierre had made it no secret he desired him, even knowing Esredes would never, ever reciprocate. Of course he wanted to make something for him that would add to that physical desire. Esredes had already made it obvious it was unrequited. He simply figured the desire would allow him to ensure Xavierre listened to him when needed, though whether that actually worked was another matter for another day.

It took some convincing to allow Xavierre to measure him and come up with something, but what eventually came back was so much more than he could've imagined. It was a merging of styles to create something that spoke to Esredes in ways he didn't even know possible. Sure, he loved his formal outfit, he loved Heilyn's coat, he was attached to his tabard, and his new combat gear he'd been donning ever since his red chainmail was singed was a much needed- but there was something about the perfect fusion of combat and formal in this top reminding him of so much. The long collar, the belted tunic base, the sash across the middle- every piece of it just felt right. In truth, it reminded him of his days in ballrooms back as a Temple Knight, when he felt, or tried to feel, like he was on top of his world. And each time he'd worn the outfit he came up with around this top since, he felt an even greater sense of personal joy than his formal outfit.

Still, those occasions were very limited, few and far between. It was far too formal for everyday wear, and so the same loop repeated. Still he spent the majority of his time in his so-called classy homeless tabard, and still he tried to avoid attention in his hues of crimson. For what reason was there to branch out, and try anything new? Perhaps he had lost his sense of fashion in the wilderness after all, because nowadays he couldn't imagine what else to wear. It was too much effort just to come up with an All Saints costume by himself. Coming up with the perfect symbolic outfit for a special occasion or a practical outfit was easy, but beyond that?

It was easier to stick with what was safe, what he knew worked. In his dull and repetitive wardrobe of red, blue, gold, white, black, and grey, there was the comfort of knowing. Each outfit was like the various uniforms he found comfortable in their repetition during his military career. And who was he to break a natural order that made sense to him, in a world that often refused to?