Tess wasn't much of a shopper; at least not for herself. The value of money meant very little to her, never known the value of it growing up. Despite her own parent's selfishness, appearances mattered, any gala for a "poor charity" meant that they would show up, buy things or auction them off for the better. And Tess knew this very well, and took advantage of it. She knew her privilege, nothing she would outwardly say or comment on, but rather in her way of acting. Things were bought for others, whether it be for people close to hers, or things for auctions that could be sold for a charity. Money was taken advantage of for the pleasure of others.

But now, now she was shopping for herself; ever since her stupid decision of cutting her hair, she felt so out of place. Her clothes weren't fitting, not properly especially with her hair cut. She felt like she was playing a role that didn't feel right. The dresses made her look like she was trying too hard, and things that weren't overly feminine meant that she looked like a boy. Her brother made her feel awkward enough. For example, at the moment, a rose-nude color on her lips, making sure people knew she was a girl, with a soft lilac sundress, and simple shoes, white. Trying too hard perhaps, but more like making sure people knew what gender she was.

And there she was, looking around for things that fit it perfectly with whatever she wanted to feel. But this was hard; usually things were brought to her. Her mother would send her packages of clothing, and she just packed it up and wore it if she remembered.

'I am a mess here' she thought.

Academic shopping was easy, but figuring out an identity, well that was a whole new thing altogether. Lifting up a dress, she wrinkled her nose, perhaps she should have gotten back up.

The day was warm enough, though Wendyll much preferred a few layers, as the wind could make it a bit chilly. Autumn was coming soon, and if you paid attention, it could be felt in the slight bite of the morning air. Today though, he strode calmly down the path, through the village. It felt like years since he'd been here, though it was only seven. He'd found no reason to go back, after graduating. And he'd never thought he'd end up teaching at the Academy.

Fate is fickle.

Adjusting his glasses, Wendyll stuffed his hands in his pockets as he peered into the shop windows. Memories flitted through his mind, of simpler and happier times. When he could spend all day lost in his books, or practicing his potions. When the next perfected spell could mean saving someone's life one day. Back when the world was black and white.

But then...it was never so black and white for him. Sighing, he spotted the sign for a clothing shop. Looking down, he took stock of his current outfit: worn jeans, black plain long sleeve shirt with a button down over top, sneakers that had seen better days. Probably not what Dorian has in mind, he thought with a smirk. Resigning himself to having to get a new wardrobe, he walked into the store, hearing the usual chime.

He spotted the more professional clothes off the the right. While he needed to be responsible and get enough to last him a while, he thought he'd at least spend some time on stuff he actually liked. Wandering over to the other end of the shop, he found a section of sweaters. There were some that were obviously the latest fashion, but his eyes were drawn to a sea foam green one. It had some green embroidered through, and some would call it ugly, but he kind of liked it. He'd learned long ago that his dress sense was a bit...different. As were other senses he had. It had taken him quite a while to accept that about himself, but he was happier once he did.

Grabbing the sweater, he continued searching the racks. His eyes landed on a girl across the way, looking at a particularly showy dress. Her face was scrunched up in what he assumed was great dislike. Though she didn't seem to sure about that. Walking around in her direction, he decided a little small talk wouldn't hurt.

"Don't know if that's the best choice," he smiled lightly at the young girl.

Was yellow a right choice? Or was red better? She couldn't just buy dark greens, she had passed the whole house rivalry long ago. Yet there she was, looking through knitted sweaters and wondering if she would wear them. Money wasn't the issue, but rather the space. Would they be good enough to take the place of her old clothes? That she didn't know. Who the hell knew if this was right? 'If anyone says anything I'll hex them' she thought with a smirk on her face. Putting those things back, she picked up a nude colored sweater, loose, possible two sizes too big. She wouldn't usually wear this, perhaps it would wash her out, but it was warm. Wrinkling her nose, she genuinely wondered what gender it was meant for, considering it had no shape.

"Don't know if that's the best choice,"

Turning around, she looked curiously at the man who had thrown his suggestion her way. Her brown eyes took him in, his clothes screamed I picked the clothes that were at the top of my drawer. With his faded jeans, and the plainest shirt she'd ever seen. She almost thought about snapping at him, as if he knew what the hell she should wear when he wasn't wearing anything fashion forward. Still, did she even know who she was? Not by a long shot.

Her eyes landed immediately at the sweater, nice color, but the embroidering was...well her great grandfather would most definitely enjoy it that much was clear. Yet his smile is what cut her sharp tongue, instead a small smile formed because of the atrocious sweater.

"Thank you" she said putting it back and covering her mouth, "I could say the same about your choice" she finished with a small laugh.