“This is a car. Humans have spread out so far we need mechanical assistance to travel from place to place quickly, and magic … isn’t really acceptable here.” Reaching in, she popped the door open and scrambled awkwardly across the gearstick to the driver’s seat. “It won’t hurt you; she just makes a big noise.” Summer petted the steering wheel. “She’s a good girl, my Lypiphera. We’ll just go really simple on the fashion, then: jeans and tee shirts. Target.” She smiled at Fenrir. “It’s overwhelming, I know. Even for me, the big city is scary.” Gently, she pushed a feeling of welcome and safety at Fenrir.
He nodded, accepting her responses. He hesitantly climbed into the passenger seat of her car, feeling odd somehow as he sat on the leather seats. The interior was cluttered with a variety of things Fenrir did not understand. Midgardians had complex means of transportation. What ever happened to chariots and goats? “She? This car is a female?” Named Lypiphera, apparently. He nodded again, not really knowing what ‘jeans’ and ‘t-shirts’ were, but willing to act like he did. “Alright, that sounds nice.” He suddenly felt much more at ease, though, and even settled back into his seat. Perhaps he was getting used to the big city after all.
Carefully pulling out into the ever-present New York traffic, Summer laughed a little. “It’s a human tradition to, hmm, personalise many of the inanimate things around them. Especially vehicles. Interestingly, the gender is usually female.” She threw a swift glance at Fenrir, admiring his profile as he gazed around in wonder, and let silence fall for the rest of the short drive.
Inanimate. The car was not alive, but it was moving and making noise. And it had been given a gender… Midgardian culture today had surely changed. He nodded, staring out the window at what they passed by. “I see.” He muttered to himself, already distracted with what he was seeing. There were people everywhere—not to mention cars flooded every road. The city was alive with movement and noise, effectively culture shocking Fenrir with everything he had missed by spending his life in a cave.
“Here, keep hold of my hand,” Summer directed when they arrived at Target. It, too, was packed with people. Summer threaded her way swiftly through the throngs, picking up three pairs of jeans and five shirts of various colours. She shoved them into Fenrir’s free arm and pointed. “Go in there and try these on. We need to see if they fit. Clothing isn’t made to your measure any more, it’s made in preset sizes.”
Trailing behind her like a child, Fenrir kept his hand within Summer’s. The store held all kinds of things he had never seen before, as well as many people. The store seemed divided into loose sections, and Fenrir was surprised to find how many different items were sold here. It seemed that specialized skill was no longer the dictator of what the shelves bore. He accepted the clothing when it was given to him, intrigued to find just how light it was. No leather, no metal (save for on two places towards the front of the trousers). “Thank you.” He said before entering one of the little boxes and shutting the door, as another man had just done.
Fenrir looked at the already-made clothing before shrugging off the archaic scraps he had found in his cave. The material was oddly soft and offered little protection, but it was comfortable and easy to dress oneself in. There were odd accessories hanging off of the shirt and trousers that annoyed Fenrir, and he saw no purpose to their being there. They had English written all over them, and they hung on some kind of thick string. When he was properly dressed, he stepped outside the door, looking down at himself and adjusting the clothing here or there. “How is that?” He asked, honestly not knowing.
Summer bit her lip, smiling and looking him up and down. “You look human, certainly. Very casual. Now, if you want to dress up, that’s more work. But those fit well enough for your time here. Which reminds me, when should I have you back home?”