Rodentia Adventures

CHAPTER 12: PRESTIGE

Jerin looked out from his rusted perch far above the lower city. This wasn't the same Jerin who had fought Seraphim recently before, of course, rather another mouse living within the overcity, who would likely have gotten along quite well with the young heroine. The pair were fated to never meet, however, for a lot of different reasons, not the least of which being that it would cause a great deal of confusion, and make it difficult to identify which of the two was speaking at any given time, were they to converse. 

He softly hums to herself, somewhat taller and notably thinner than the adventurer, as so many within the overcity were. There were no reliable sources of food up here, and while there were the occasional ladders and ropes which led down to the trading hub below, it was a long trip which the residents made a point of taking as seldom as possible, even if that meant finding themselves significantly underfed when compared to their brethren below. Even if not the most heavyset of rodents, the people of the overcity weren't weak, however, this mouse being no exception. A life of constantly climbing around obstacles, minding your balance and lugging around metal and other debris ensured that a set of strong, ropey muscles existed beneath his tan fur.  

Aside from the many colored bandana's and scarves which were tied at assorted places along arms and around neck, a style of fashion which proved to be all the rage up here, all that he wore was a long, off-white skirt, slit up one side for ease of mobility. Mice, of course, lacked the countless generations of civilization and social construction, and with it the steady evolution of things such as proper fashions. As such, gendered clothing wasn't really a thing which existed so far as most of the citizens were concerned. Most mice would simply wear whatever they felt looked good at the time and happened to be available, with some mind (even if not quite enough, using the current mouse as an example) paid to practicality as well. There were, indeed, messages one can put forth based purely off of your style of dress: Intelligence, wealth, confidence, even physical power in the case of certain armors, but masculinity and femininity were not considered to be among them. Beyond a strictly physical sense, such terms had very little meaning within mouse society. There existed one non-trivial caveat to this, of course, which involved the tailoring guilds. While the average mouse may not have seen clothing as gendered of existing for a very specific purpose, the actual creators of such items would militantly disagree. For these dedicated artists, each and every article of clothing had a specific use. There were clothes to eat in, clothes to sleep in, clothes for the old, clothes for the young, clothes for work, clothes for play and even specific outfits designed purely to be changed into when one found themselves bored or otherwise idle. The average mouse had no interest in these intentions, of course, and seeing as how the clothing makers of the city were part of a mysterious and secretive society, they knew enough to simply quietly seethe at all the improperly worn articles of clothing that they had constantly encountered, rather than shouting in anyone's faces. This worked out fairly well for both sides of the equation: The commoners could wear whatever they wished without fear of harassment, and the tailors and seamstress' were still able to maintain their sense of superiority and elitism, a nice fringe benefit for any passionate artist. 

Back to Jerin, the male Jerin, the mouse laid back across a rusted metal beam. It was not the sort of thing that most would consider to be particularly comfortable, but a life of sitting on, walking on and essentially living on hard, jagged or otherwise rough materials toughened the body up considerably. He didn't even notice the bits of metal jabbing into his back or legs, as up here you were constantly finding yourself poked by, scraped by or stepping on something sharp to the point that one quickly grew to ignore it. His clothing, as little as there was, offered minimal protection, his entire tan colored frame essentially a single large callous. With physical comfort not a priority, all that remained was to focus on his work.