On the inside, the tailor shop was well-populated with dresses and suits draped on wooden mannequins, displays of designs and images of fashionable women and men. Notably, in one of the paintings on display, a handsome man with dark features holding a rapier was also wearing the shirt they had found, proudly displaying enough chest hair to make a pirate queen swoon.<br/><br/>It was a little sparse on people, though! By the looks of it there were three people currently manning the shop; a man with a dustcloth doing his best to flyspeck everything and make sure the floors were immaculate, an elven woman in an apron, with tape measure and pins, and their teenaged half-elven daughter who was trying very hard to look like she didn't care about the people coming into the shop, even as she snuck peeks at them from across her diary.<br/><br/>"Oh dear! Oh dear! A princess?! And a wedding?! Oh, you've caught us at such a bad time," the elven woman with the apron lamented, fanning herself,  "the proprietor is not in right now, he is making a house call. But I would be happy to assist you!" She promptly hurried out from behind the counter helped Sophie ease off the elf's cloak and other accoutrements, bringing out a tape measure and taking her measurements with no regard to personal space, "the bride will of course want something customized to her features? These displays are but a taste of what the master is capable of, a princess deserves something that will be talked about for generations. Is it to be a spring wedding? An autumn? We will want to match you and contrast you with the leaves..." she babbled in this vein for a little while, writing down notes and figures. "Oh! Filauria dear," she addressed the half-elf teenager, "would you take care of these two ladies? They want something matching to try on. And her knight-protectors?" she asked of Kairen and Evan.<br/><br/>This Filauria rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and got up from her corner, "ugh, fine. You can..." she looked between the three humans and a faint blush crept up her cheeks, "the fitting rooms are this way. Red? We can try red." She pointed further toward the back of the store.<br/><br/>"Red's no color for bridesmaids, dear," the elven woman said, "you don't want them to stand out."<br/><br/>Amidst the elven tailor's fussing, it was sharp-eared Lauriel who heard it.<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Lauriel</div><div class="spoiler_body">The faint singing. It wasn't nearby, but she could make out the words, <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">"With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal! In silence dread, upon our way we feel!"</span></div></div>