My nuzzles against Yuri's cheek as she purrs, purring herself.  She grins and bats her eyelashes at Yuri's statement of never wearing pants again.  She can't disagree, given the comfort of the skirt and the delightful feel of having her nethers open to the air.  Yuri'snext words and action reinforce that feeling as she feels Yuri's hand giving her bare bottom a playful squeeze.<br/><br/><em>"I might have to tolerate Adelaide hanging off of me more, since she turned you on to this!" she practically growled just before opening the door and heading outside.</em><br/><br/>My laughs lightly, "you just might... I like her.. like a sister..."<br/><br/>As they get closer to the bazaar and the growing crowds, My feels none of the apprehension she felt in the past, comfortably weaving among them with Yuri at her side.  As they stop, My listens and smiles, "yes my Yuri..."  She does nothing suggestive, nothing to arouse her lover, anymore than she did naturally in Yuri's eyes.  With a soft giggle and smile, she turns towards the bazaar, eyes open and wandering back and forth for the traders of cloth and clothes...<br/><br/>She walks among the many tables, pausing at each vendor with women's clothes on display, asking each about the clothes and the quality of the cloth, and the prices.  She buys nothing at first, just circulating among them, weighing quality and prices in her mind.  She finds most to be similar in price for similar quality.  She is about to return to a table, when she spots a different looking pair of vendors.  It is a gypsy couple, man and wife, selling wares from their rather ornate wagon.<br/><br/>She makes her way to them, greeting the with a smile.  The husband wears a light leather vest, with pins and needles sticking from it in every direction, and several measuring tapes draped over his neck.  He greets My in a melodic tongue she does not understand, and she gives a questioning smile.  He nods in understanding and gestures her to come closer, with My stepping closer to the couple and gesturing to her skirt and shirt.  While the husband takes measurements, the wife simply stands there, letting her eyes wander over Mylanna's form, then stepping very close to run  her fingers through her hair, noting the true color, how it moves though her hands, how it lays against her and over her shoulders, then looks to her eyes, the shape, color, and tilt, followed by the rest of her facial features and the paleness of her skin.<br/><br/>The two step back and begin talking quickly in their alien tongue, including the many gestures of their hands.  The wife continues speaking to her husband as she steps back to Mylanna, touching and lifting at the fabric of her shirt to show how it lays and flows about her form, as well as the skirt.  He nods and smiles, clapping his hands together once before turning back to the wagon.  He ignores the clothes laying there and instead picks out fabrics, one of a slightly off-white lace, one of light moss green, one of a deeper leaf green, one of ivory, and one of the same brown as she wore.  Taking th fabrics, he goes to the back of the wagon , opens the door, and steps inside.  There is no doubt in Mylanna's mind that the wagon is magical, as it was too small on the outside for him to enter as he did.<br/><br/>The wife gestures Mylanna to join her near the back of the wagon, and Mylanna does so.  Turning away from the crowd, she opens a small box.  Inside is what appears to be a simple linen loincloth, though very soft and supple.  The wife pulls out a piece of parchment, and My notes there are words written in a multitude of languages: Self Cleaning, Absorbant, One Size Fits All- will adjust to fit any wearer- 100 gold.  The woman smiles at My and nods, to which My chuckles softly and nods her head.  Setting the box aside, she gestures to a pair of chairs nearby, with a small table on which rests a ceramic tea pot and 2 cups, and gestures out towards the rest of the bazaar.<br/><br/>My takes the hint and has a seat, as the woman pours her a cup of tea.  The aroma is strong, but not bitter, and taking a sip, My is amazed at the myriad of flavors within.  She sits there, drinking the tea as the woman deals with several customers.  After about 20  minutes, the husband comes out from the wagon, one arm laden with fabric, the other with her finished clothes.    The wife takes the clothes as the husband puts the cloth back.  She holds each up for My's inspection: 2 skirts matching hers, one of moss green, one of matching brown, a 3rd skirt of dark green with a long slit up the left side, an ivory hued shirt matching hers, followed by one of see through lace, with a sheer white backing.<br/><br/>My smiles and nods happily as she is shown each piece, but it is the last piece that truly catches her eye and causes her to gasp.  2 pieces of sheer fabric, one of pale blue, one of pale green.  Each piece is cut to hang off one shoulder, with a steep angle cut at the bottom.  When worn on opposing shoulders, the overlapped fabric takes on a pale sea green hue, a plunging neckline, and a tulip like shape at the bottom.  The light airy fabric was such that it would lay and almost cling to the body underneath, almost identical to one of the clothes worn by the Pristesses of Corellon in her former home.  My smiles widely and nods her head vigorously, and is quite surprised when the woman speaks next, and even with her own unique accent, My has little trouble understanding her, "Aa’ menle nauva calen ar’ ta hwesta e’ ale’quenle (May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back)."  Clutching her hands to her chest, My bows her head, and the woman, smiling equally as wide, return the bow.<br/><br/>The husband stands back from the two women, simply watching.  The wife gestures to the collection of clothes, as well as the boxed underwear, and gestures to Mylanna the total sum of 120 gold pieces.  Mylanna, so moved by the dress', gives no thought to bartering and hands over the gold, while standing close to the woman so no one else is likely to see the bag of coins.  The woman does not look down as My pulls the coins from the bag, but rather looks to her husband, who collects the clothes and the box, and loosely wraps the bundle in simple brown paper, tying the package with twine.  As My takes the package, the man puts his hands on her shoulders and leans in to kiss each cheek lightly, and then the wife does the same.  Feeling as if she is floating above the ground, My takes her leave of the couple on light and unhurried steps, weaving her way back to the rendezvous point.