As she pondered whether they could be altered to fit given the tools at hand a faint buzzing static washed over her legs. Having noticed that this feeling typically meant something arcane was at play she tried to pull them up again, and a barely-visible amount of Fog rose from the fabric as they stretched to fit - even though they were slightly loose in some places, and rather tight in others. The waistband in particular had only stretched far enough to fit, and the belt that was inside it hadn’t become even a little longer. “Limitations, limitations...” a thought crossed her mind as she reached for the other belts, trying them one after the other - somehow, they were all too short to tie around her waist, apparently having been cut short near the ends at some point. They were, however, long enough for her to better secure the trousers around her thighs, and that’s what she did.

The boots were all too big, with a substantial amount of empty space around the foot. Nevertheless, she expected they would self-adjust similarly to the trousers, and waited for a few seconds to let the effect take place. Her expectations were met when the buzzing came again and the boot squeezed down and molded itself to fit, accompanied by the squeaking of leather against leather as a small amount of Fog came off it. Even the metal plating deformed with a loud creak, though unlike the leather it didn’t change volume - only its shape - the massive shin-plates having become even bulkier as a result. The last piece was one of the armored bracers, which fit as it was.

It was all in all rather comfortable, enough so that she wasn’t even annoyed at the absence of a shirt. “Binding’s good enough,” she thought, the living forest’s humidity and lack of constant wind having made the ambient temperature quite a bit higher. Her left arm’s wrapped state was much more obvious without the cloak to partly conceal it, but she wasn’t too concerned about it. Just as she finished up, she heard heavy, violent footsteps approaching the transport, followed by three forceful knocks on the wall. 

“Y’done?” the Swordsman asked, his voice filled with the same aggression as Wire’s.

“Yeah,” she answered, prompting him to step in and beeline for the sink without giving her so much as a second look. His forearms were drenched in what she at first thought to be blood, but it was far too red. He ducked down under the sink and grabbed the seal-covered bottle, ripping out its cork and placing it to his mouth. Only, he didn’t drink.

He just… Sat there, holding the bottle to his mouth with his left hand while he did strange gestures with the right. The Rubedo coating his forearms was absorbed into his skin, his tattoos having turned the same shade of bright red, two thirds of the way from his elbows to his wrists.

He suddenly balled his hand into a fist as if to crush something, causing him to retch into the bottle as he reached up to hold his nose closed, holding the cork between his fingers. The bottle rang with a sound not unlike someone pouring water down a well, small wisps of bright red Fog escaping his ears.

When the flow stopped he hurriedly corked the bottle shut, coughing up a few puffs of Red Fog. “It gets easier the more y’ do it my ass…” he grumbled, placing the seal-covered bottle back in its place and reaching for a green one. The motion of his arm wafted a small portion of the Red Fog towards her before it could dissipate. It carried the smell of combat, of blood and fear, but also of excitement and exhilaration. The smell of battle and survival. For a moment, it was as she was in the middle of a fight for her life, adrenaline surging and her survivor’s instinct going off. Then, it was over - the Swordsman had very literally snapped her out of it with a snap of his fingers in front of her face.

“And here I was thinkin’ I’d have to purge your system as well. Just the snap usually ain’t enough,” he remarked, taking a seat on the bunk across from her. Zelsys felt his eyes tracing her skin, following her markings with a curious glint to his hardened gaze - a glint almost bright enough to overshadow the undertone of carnal appreciation. She didn’t mind, such things weren’t a one-way street after all. 

“Good to see the self-adjustment still works on those,” he continued, gesturing at her trousers. His gaze drifted towards her open fly, a mutter of “...Mostly.” punctuating the action of his eyes snapping upward to Zelsys’ grinning, smug face. 

“Before y’say anything, you and I both know this is the kinda shit Rubedo exposure does to someone with a tolerance,” he excused himself and took another swig of Viriditas, some of the redness fading from his tattoos.

She didn’t know that, but she didn’t mind him thinking she did, and so gave a small nod of agreement with that amused grin splayed over her features. Her silvery-white eyes observed the hardened soldier with an equally amused curiosity as she crossed her legs, leaning back in the bunk a bit. 

“I don’t recall pure Viriditas being that light a green,” she said smugly, trying to get him to explain more without betraying her own lack of knowledge. She was certain he had fallen for it when he let out a sarcastic chuckle, cleared his throat, and in an exaggerated, patronizing tone began to recite a spiel, gesturing with the bottle as he went.

“Mix together two parts of distilled water, two parts pure Viriditas, and one part Ethanol to produce a most wondrous of concoctions - Liquid Vigor!” recited the Swordsman, chortling at the absurdity of it before he took another swig and his tattoos returned to black. He corked the bottle and put it next to his bunk, a third of its contents still swirling inside. For a brief time they remained quiet, only the rustling of the leaves and the muffled, unintelligible conversation between Spliteye and Wire to break the silence.