The fabric stretched tightly across his thighs and hips, clearly not made for someone built like him.
When he pulled the linen shirt over his head, it clung to his shoulders and chest, the seams straining slightly as he rolled his shoulders.
He flexed once experimentally.
"…Tight," he muttered.
Olivia snorted softly beside him.
She stepped into her own trousers, tying them securely at the waist.
When she pulled on her shirt, it hung looser on her frame, sleeves slightly long, torso giving her room to move without restriction.
Then she grabbed one of the cloaks and swung it over her shoulders, fastening it at the collar.
Azreal followed, choosing the darker one. The heavy fabric helped hide his build a little though not by much.
Boots came next.
Belts last.
When they were done, the difference was clear.
The clothes fit Olivia like practical travel gear—comfortable, easy to move in, slightly oversized but manageable.
