#interestingly i have to rewrite a lot less of him in NCNE because the conceit was he masks significantly less with viren than anyone else

[kradogsrats]

I'm gonna have to rewrite several chunks of this fic, including this particular one, because I've apparently made Kpp'Ar about 80% too autistic... but the fact that I wrote it like 2 weeks ago made me have a wheezing fit at the line about Viren's "finery" in that one episode:

“Is that what you're wearing?” Viren, a spoonful of honeyed oatmeal halfway between the bowl and his mouth, looked down at his clothing, then back up. "What?" Kpp'Ar looked at him impatiently. “You heard me. Is that," he made a small gesture that nonetheless encompassed Viren's entire body, "really what you're wearing today?” Not long after he’d gotten settled in Kpp’Ar’s house, the irritable mage had marched him through the city to a tailor’s shop, where he’d simply tossed the tailor a small purse of coins and indicated Viren, saying only, “Make him presentable.” The next several hours had been a whirl of measuring and fitting and adjusting of more clothing than Viren had ever imagined wearing—shirts and trousers and vests, all in soft wool and fine linen. A few of the shirts and vests were even trimmed with gold thread at the cuffs or hem, which he'd been certain was far too much, but Kpp'Ar had only nodded.

It had been overwhelming, even if most of the new wardrobe—and what a thing, to have a wardrobe—was practical, sturdy trousers and undecorated shirts easily cuffed out of the way. He'd taken weeks to feel even slightly comfortable wearing them, and almost cried when he discovered he'd stained a sleeve carelessly leaning his forearms on the table. Kpp'Ar had received his stammered, increasingly frantic apologies with ominous silence, then simply showed him where the various solvents brewed for removing stains were kept and waved him away, untroubled.

About to affirm that yes, obviously the plain work clothing currently on his body was what he was wearing that day, Viren paused. It was far from the strangest abrupt questioning he'd received from Kpp'Ar, but still strange enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck with suspicion. "Why?" he asked, carefully. “What’s today?”

“We’re going to the castle,” Kpp'Ar said, as if that were something Viren had already been told and ought to remember.

“The castle,” Viren repeated. “As in, the royal castle?”

“Do you know of another one? Don't ask pointless questions, boy.”

Viren bit back a sarcastic reply regarding the pointlessness of Kpp'Ar's own rhetorical question. Such remarks were usually lost on him, anyway—Viren had yet to determine whether he truly failed to comprehend them or only pretended such, given the rare glimmer of his own, extraordinarily dry, wit. It was also possible that he was mistaking the occasional ironic coincidence around what was otherwise total sincerity for a sense of humor.

“Why are we suddenly going to the castle?” he asked, instead.

“Unfortunately, a royal summons cannot be refused.”

"A royal summons?" Viren finally put his spoon down. It wasn't going to make it to his mouth any time soon, and at the morning's current rate of stunning revelations, he'd probably wind up dropping it and splattering oatmeal everywhere. "What could the king possibly—"

Kpp'Ar silenced him with a look. "That is a matter between him and me, and thus no concern of yours. While I am occupied, you will avail yourself of the royal library."

Viren immediately perked up, any misgivings forgotten. The clerics of Katolis had collected and preserved texts on all manner of topics for centuries. Kpp'Ar owned more books than he had ever imagined in once place, but had mentioned several times—possibly with a touch of envy—that the royal library held even more. Given Kpp'Ar's general disdain for the city and even more so for the castle, he hadn't really expected to ever see it.

"If you’re going to get ready, go do it." Kpp'Ar's scolding voice interrupted his brief, book-filled reverie. "The carriage will be here for us in half an hour. If you're not on it, you'll be walking."

Viren shoveled the rest of of his oatmeal into his mouth as fast as he could eat, then scampered to his room.

Twenty-five minutes later, he joined Kpp’Ar on the front steps. There hadn't been time to bathe, but he'd scrubbed his face and managed to tame his hair by carding wet fingers through it, and he'd brushed his teeth. He'd also, of course, put on his best trousers and shirt, and the open, long-tailed vest that by its cut showed he labored with his mind, rather than his hands.

He’d been keen to see what his mentor considered to be proper dress for an audience with the king, and so was deeply let down when he clattered down the front stairs and found Kpp’Ar wearing exactly what he wore every time they left the house. Viren couldn’t tell if he had even shaved, though it looked like might have at least made an effort to scrub the more persistent ink stains from his hands.

Sensing his disappointment—or at least his scrutiny—Kpp’Ar gave him a brief glance up and down. “You didn’t have to change clothes,” he commented.

Viren's jaw dropped. “You told me to!”

“I am certain I did not.”

“You asked whether I was wearing my ordinary clothes to the castle, where you apparently have an audience with the king, himself—was that somehow not an implicit order to change?”

Kpp’Ar blinked several times, as if trying to wrap his mind around a completely alien concept. “I thought it was an odd choice for you, since you otherwise take such care with your appearance in public.”

Viren bristled, but fell silent rather than argue further. It had seemed so obvious, but now doubt needled at the edges of his mind. He wasn't ashamed of where he came from, but he didn't like to stand out and be marked as someone ignorant of the social context—that was when people began to treat him dismissively, or worse, with pity. Kpp'Ar obviously didn't care about such things, but he had also never needed to care. Still, the fact that he hadn't cleaned up more suggested that Viren might have overcompensated, and would be ostentatious—

“You look very fine,” Kpp’Ar added, awkward as always in his reassurance. “You needn’t worry that you’ll be out of place.”

“Thanks,” Viren mumbled, not feeling particularly better.