Nice to Meet You...Again (Tags M'ta)

[Requiem]

M'ta blinked at her, a little surprised by how blunt she was, but rather relieved in his own way. It was good he couldn't pull off disguising himself as a female, right? (Considering before he came to Selenitas it was actually a possibility, yes, there was definitely some relief in that realization. But then, fifteen-turn-olds who hadn't yet hit puberty tended to have an easier time of it as a general rule.)

Then he flushed. Shards! That was so obvious! Mer was the woman...why in Faranth's name was he the one wearing the skirt?! To be fair, though, he kept on forgetting Mer was female. She didn't much look it, after all.

And...the flush only grew more as she began to strip down, apparently not at all concerned with modesty. He'd gone out of his way to make sure she didn't catch an eyeful, and here she was sliding her pants down...and making it abundantly clear that, despite all appearances, Mer most certainly was not male. He visibly twitched. Turning away from her, the brownrider took to studying the wall and trying to poke out his mind's eye, which insisted on replaying the scene.

Honestly! "Tell me when you're done," he managed, forgetting he was still dressed in drag.

[Rowana]

Mer shrugged at M'ta and finished undressing. She had never been bothered with modesty before and she wasn't likely to start now. She tossed the shirt and pants over his head with a grin. "Wait just a second," she advised, pulling out a second set of female clothes from the drawers. She scowled at them for a second. Who had ever thought of such impractical clothing. Sighing, she pulled the blouse over her head and hitched up the skirt. She was sure she must look even worse than M'ta. Maybe this wouldn't work after all.

"Alright, I'm done," she told him in a grumpy tone. "You're turn not to laugh." She tugged at the folds self consciously and ran fingers through her short hair. How had she ever agreed to this? She felt almost naked without pants. Ironic, since nudity had never bothered her before. Oh well, at least no one was likely to recognize her now. It would be funny to see the looks on their faces if they did!

[Requiem]

M'ta was currently engaged in his own little wriggle dance to be free of the skirt, the blouse having been discarded in short order, when the clothing landed on his head and startled him. The brownrider squeaked (a most unusual sound coming from the northern teenager, to be sure) and physically flailed at the clothing that had metamorphosed into a bag thrown over his head when met with the overactive, imaginative paranoia that remained alive and well to this day. So awkward was the reaction - and so weakened the man - that he managed to get himself tangled up in it and, tripping on the edge of the pants, went down in a rather inelegant heap.

By the time he calmed enough to realize what had happened, Mer was mostly dressed. M'ta quickly worked off the skirt - which had managed to slide down to the mid-thigh and hadn't helped at all when it came to freeing himself - and was pulling on the pants rather awkwardly from a seated position when Mer spoke up. M'ta spared her a glance. And froze. He blinked. She actually looked...like a she...and then he realized he only had his pants just past halfway up and the brownrider flushed, scrambling up and tugging at the trousers at the same time. He twisted away from her.

"Um, not laughing," he managed, pulling at the belt to tighten it as much as he could. Looked like it would still ride low, though. Normally his waist wouldn't be so much smaller, but he was so thin from his illness that he could probably turn sideways and vanish behind a sapling. The shirt was quick to follow, covering up his growing collection of scars and the odd truth that, but for the hair dusting his navel, M'ta was strangely...hairless. And the shirt itself didn't fit. Mer had no chest to speak of to make up for M'ta's broad shoulders, and he ended up leaving the garment completely open because it simply wouldn't fasten.

Plucking at it, he glanced at Mer. "I'll say you pull off that clothing better than I fill out yours," he managed graciously, the blood still high in his cheeks. "Maybe we should get out of here before the owner comes back and wonders what we're doing in her weyr, though."

[Rowana]

Mer's face flashed with concern as she noticed M'ta's trouble. It reminded her that he shouldn't really be up. He was technically still sick otherwise the Healer's wouldn't be keeping him in the infirmary, whatever conspiracies M'ta thought up. Still, he had recovered and her thoughts ventured back to the issues at hand. Even if he clothes were ill fitting, at least he didn't stand out so much anymore. She was more worried about her own attire, so it surprised her to hear his answer.

Mer's eyes narrowed suspiciously, wondering if he was mocking her. But he seemed sincere, so she managed an embarrassed smile. "You don't look that bad," she told him. "A." Nodding in agreement, she folded the discarded clothing and put it back in the drawers. "Anywhere specific you'd like to go?" She grinned and waved a hand. Auran was already winging outside and sending back that the cost was clear for the moment. Now was there chance. She inch to the door, glancing at M'ta for an answer before she moved further.

[Requiem]

She didn't look convinced, but M'ta didn't figure it was his job to make her believe she looked halfway-decent. He didn't know why it was so much of a struggle, either; he'd only said that those clothes suited her better than hers suited him. That shouldn't be that hard to believe, should it? Nodding at her compliment, he tucked a stray strand of overlong hair behind his ear and muttered an absentminded thanks, still working to get the images of her changing out of his mind.

Since when did these things linger for M'ta? He used to never even notice.

Oh. Right. M'ta had been so concerned with getting away that he hadn't even given a moment's thought as to where they should actually go. "A lot of things have changed, haven't they? Maybe you can just...show me around?" At least until he could come up with a better idea. "Just nowhere healers are likely to be," he added drolly.

The brownrider slipped out the door before Mer could respond, feeling more than just a little self-conscious with the shirt hanging open. He was, after all, still bandaged up across the chest. (Did it usually take six months for a wound to heal? Apparently so when it festered.) "You know," he commented, for something to say. "It probably wouldn't hurt to wear things like that more often. You look...like a woman..." Nice. Could he get that any more tactless if he tried? M'ta mentally winced.