The professor, too, dropped his pack, and after a glance at the directory map on the wall, started down the tiled path towards Maiden’s Wear. He turned, when the girl didn’t follow, and held out a hand.
“Come along, girl,” he said.
At that, she shifted her distant stare to the brown-haired man, then at his outstretched hand, only then lifting her hand to his. Once his grip tightened around her hand, her eyes returned to whatever it was that was just over his left shoulder.
When he walked, she walked. When he slowed, or stopped, she did the same.
“What about something here?” he asked, turning the glowstone’s light on a rack of prefabricated jumpers.
The girl blinked, then lowered her gaze when the man repeated his question, this time pointing.
“Well? No,” he said, when he saw her gaze starting to drift. He pointed again. “Take one of these to try on.”
Again, the girl blinked, then nodded, and took the garment closest to where the man pointed. She then reached for the knots in the greenish-gray medical robe.
“No!” the dark-haired man said, closing his hand over hers. “In there.” He pointed to a line of curtained alcoves at the edge of the glowstone’s circle of light.
When the girl did not move, he reiterated the motion. “Go in there to try that on, please.”
A glance towards the alcoves, and then a slight nod, and then the girl made her way towards them, garment in hand. She stopped in front of the row of curtained openings, and looked back towards the professor.
“Whichever you want,” he said. When she didn’t move, he waved a finger. “The alcove on the left.”
The briefest of nods, and the girl stepped to one side, then slipped through the curtain.
The professor removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Insellegath’s teeth,” he muttered. As he slipped his glasses back on, he called over towards the curtained doorway.
“When you’ve changed, step out.”
A handful of breaths later, the curtain rippled, and then the girl stepped out, and the man shook his head.
The jumper hung off one shoulder, the sleeves hanging nearly to the girl’s knees. The hem of the dress portion, which should have hung to her knees, was nearly to her ankles.
“That’s—” The professor caught himself. Much too large, yes, but it was the one he’d indicated. Only following instructions, he thought to himself. Only… He took a calming breath.
“Find yourself something to wear. That fits. Easy to move in. Traveling garb. Once you have it, return here to change into it.”
The girl gave another barely perceptible nod, then looked slowly across the expanse of racks of clothing. Once she’d completed her sweep, she turned, and picked her way through the fixtures, plucking this or that with barely a glance.
Though the professor held his glowstone over his head to illuminate as much of the clothing as possible, the girl didn’t seem to need it. Several times, she walked completely out of the circle of light, without so much as a falter or hitch in her step.
“Undergarments, as well,” he reminded her, as she made her way back towards him. This brought a pause, nod, and she turned in a circle, her eyes darting from one rack to the next. And again, without hesitation, she marched out of the glowstone’s light. When she returned several minutes later, she did not even give a sideways glance to the professor, simply walking past him to the same fitting alcove, arms full of garments.
She had surprisingly good taste. A pair of faded indigo twilled trousers, a collared, button-down blouse of similar fabric. Calf-high boots of sturdy but supple leather, without much heel and good soles. It would have taken the professor hours of picking through the racks to find as much.
“Good,” he said, after he’d remembered to tell the girl to step out, and got a look at what she’d chosen. “Gather two more sets of traveler’s clothes of similar make, and a pack or satchel to hold them.”
Was it his imagination, or did the girl’s pale lips turn up ever so slightly at his praise? The quirk was gone as she nodded in acceptance of his instructions, and then she was off again, without so much as a bump or stumble in the dark of the farther reaches of the store’s expanse.
* * *
The corporal raised an eyebrow, as the professor and the girl approached the ever-stairs.
“What?” the professor asked.
“You couldn’t have picked her a pack that was maybe a little more…” He shrugged, and indicated his own pack, by his feet.
It was the professor’s turn to shrug. “I told her to pick one herself, and that’s the one she wanted.”
“There wasn’t one with a little less… pink to it?”
The girl watched the exchange, glancing back and forth between the two men. She hitched the brilliant pink backpack, settling it a bit higher on her back. She began drawing her hair — still streaked and caked with fine particles from the ash fall— out from under one of the straps, when the sharp crackle of gunfire echoed up the ever-stairwell.
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