Finally, Leonotis finished his run and met Gethii, who opened the clinic door as he approached.
"Finished your run?"
"Yes, Master Gethii."
"Was that even an hour? Alright, well, drink this. We've got a demon to find," Gethii said, tossing Leonotis a water bottle.
"Wait, I have to get something from my room," Leonotis said, running into the clinic to his room.
The morning sun slanted through the windows of the clinic, illuminating Leonotis as he meticulously draped a length of roughspun cloth over his t-shirt and shorts. He'd managed to secure it at the shoulder with a crudely fashioned bone clasp, attempting a look that was somewhere between "noble warrior" and "slightly disheveled laundry accident."
Gethii, who was adjusting his own, considerably more authentic-looking, warrior's toga (worn with a distinct air of someone who'd been doing this for decades), paused, his brow arching slightly.
"And what, precisely, is that you're wearing, Leonotis?" Gethii asked, his voice carefully trying to hide a laugh, though a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
Leonotis puffed out his chest, adjusting the folds of the cloth. "It's my battle attire! A warrior's… uh… toga! For facing the fearsome fox demon!" He struck a dramatic pose.
Gethii blinked slowly. "A toga. Over your… 'fearsome' shirt and those shorts that appear to be held together by sheer willpower?"
"It adds… gravitas!" Leonotis insisted, his voice a little less certain now under Gethii's scrutiny. "And… and it's traditional! You wear one!" He gestured to Gethii's own expertly draped garment.
"Indeed I do," Gethii replied. "Mine is made of sturdy, demon-hide fabric as strong as chainmail and is secured with actual, talisman clasps made by the Mmoatia. Yours appears to be… a repurposed bedsheet that could fall off at any moment."
"It's… secure! I already tested it!" Leonotis countered, demonstrating with a sudden lunge that nearly sent him sprawling.
Gethii sighed, a hint of amusement finally breaking through his stoic façade. "Take that off; you'll be tripping over your own feet."
"It's… a symbol!" Leonotis declared, striking another pose, this time managing to stay upright. "A symbol of my devotion as your pupil! And my… my spiritual readiness!"
Gethii finally conceded, putting his hand on his hilt, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, always keep your shorts on under that thing. Your 'spiritual readiness' looks like it would expose your… less spiritually ready undergarments to the general public. Perhaps a belt?"
Leonotis glanced down, suddenly aware that a particularly enthusiastic movement had indeed caused the toga to shift precariously. He quickly adjusted it. "I think I have a belt inside."
Gethii chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Right then. Go ahead and get it." He gestured towards the door, a genuine warmth in his eyes. Despite the ridiculousness of Leonotis's attire, there was a spark of the brave, determined boy Gethii had come to care for.
Leonotis, beaming, adjusted his toga one last time. "Lead the way, Master Gethii!" He followed Gethii out the door, his makeshift toga flapping heroically in the breeze, a brown belt securing his attire around his waist.
Chinakah leaned against the cool stone of the window frame, tracing the path of the two figures as they passed through the outer gate. Their matching green garments billowed slightly in the morning breeze, looking almost ceremonial. A soft smile touched her lips at the sight of their coordinated departure. Then, her gaze sharpened.
The smile vanished, replaced by a sudden furrow between her brows. She squinted, focusing on the drape of the fabric on Leonotis just before they disappeared around the bend. Was that... the faint dark green embroidered hem? The one from her good linen set? Her breath hitched.
"Oh, wait a damn minute, that better not be my good bedsheet," she muttered under her breath.