Altair rose like a winter sunrise. Tentatively at a slow pace, until he was sitting fully erect. When Diens had been untying him, the man stilled himself; not in a fearful way, but in the way an injured mutt would offer his paw so that a thorn could be extracted. That same demeanor persisted as Altair met his gaze with a neutral expression, wiped clean of opinion.<br/><br/>“Shall I be provided something more to wear or will I be going as I am?” Altair asked.<br/><br/>Diens had pondered where Altair would obtain clothing, and while the slave slept he had gone in search for some. His search proved difficult; though there were several garments of Altair’s size to be found, the head seamstress of the hold vehemently objected to allowing none other than nobility to wear them. Eventually he managed to procure a garment; the head seamstress, in quick time, changed a lifeless gray dress into a tunic large enough for Altair. It was not perfectly tailored to the man, but it would suffice. Finding matching trousers proved easier, with the head seamstress surrendering an old pair of trousers large enough to fit two hams into.<br/><br/>“Few common folk are much taller than I, so there is little demand for large clothing. Fortunately, I found some garments that could fit your willowy stature,” said Diens. “Unfortunately, they are within my room. I thought it would be strange to carry around garments on my person as I ventured the hold, so I left them behind. When you are confident that you can wander on your own two legs, I shall go and retrieve them.”<br/><br/>It was then that Altair beckoned his legs to strength and tried to stand up. The slave’s legs quivered like a dying spider’s, against the weight of all of himself. He wobbled over to Hillard’s work desk, leaning towards where a bucket of fresh, cold water had been perched. The man hadn’t bothered to hide himself, and he stood at the bucket nude whilst refreshing himself. Vainly, Altair plaited his hair, though Diens thought that little would come of trying to do so with a mouse nest of tangled threads.<br/><br/>“Perhaps both. I am the only one capable of being your aide, but I did not actively seek to be so. Although, I guessed that in due time you would ask of either Lord Siennought or I. You are confused, and rightfully so. A slave of Dusan is ill adjusted for a life in snow.”