Scourge Thirty-Two - Dressed

Bianca pauses in front of one shop in particular, her neck straining back as she looks up at the store’s name. It’s called Garmaments, and it’s probably one of the nicest shops I’ve seen in this city.

“This is the place?” I ask.

“It is,” Bianca says. “I’ve heard good things about this store. I haven’t had all that many opportunities to shop for myself until very lately. Would you mind if we spent some time here?”

“I don’t see why we would,” I say with a grin. “We’re out here to have fun and relax, right?”

“Clothes shopping is relaxing?” Felix asks.

Esme nods. “It is.” She grabs Felix’s hand and tugs her forwards. “Come on! We’ll make you look cute, Felix!”

“Wait, no,” Felix says. “I don’t wanna look cute. I want to be rugged and tough and badass.”

Giggling, I follow after my friends and we barge into the shop proper.

There are all sorts of dresses on racks and carefully carved wooden mannequins in proper poses are standing next to each other, covered in gowns and dresses that trail down to the floor.

A pair of shopkeepers--both young adult women--glance up as we enter, and they immediately smile and bow in our direction in unison. “Welcome to Garmaments, where our fashion is your weapon.”

Bit of a weird slogan.

“How can we help you?” They both ask in unison.

Bianca brushes down the front of her dress before gesturing to us. “My companions and I are looking for new clothes. Specifically something to travel in? I like my current dress, but it’s becoming bedraggled from travel and I think it would be wise to find something more appropriate to wear on the road.”

The shopkeepers nod, and one of them comes over and guides us to one side of the shop. “If the lady doesn’t mind the impertinence of asking. How long will you be staying in Castenanda for?”

“A couple of days.” Bianca says.

“In that case, we can certainly tailor most garments that we have to fit. Though it would be difficult to make something entirely new in such a short period. Most of our outfits take weeks to sew and cut and perfect.”

I nod along, but in reality I have no idea how long it takes to make a dress. I just rely on mom to fill my wardrobe up, mostly. I glance down at my outfit. It’s a purple top and beige skirt, the hem of which has a bit of mud caked to it. I think it’s rather nice. Mom likes adding little touches of embroidery to outfits, usually flowers that have obscure meanings in them that no one but some other old god might understand.

I glance up at the dresses on display, and can’t help but notice that they’re very different to what I’m wearing. More sleek, with less poof to them and a very different style of decoration and lacework.

Am I unfashionable?

“I wouldn’t mind a new outfit either.” I say.

Bianca spins around. “Really?” she asks. I have this sinking feeling that I’ve made a mistake, but I can’t quite pin what it was.

Bianca grabs my hand and pulls me forwards and closer to the dresses. “Alright, we can work with this. Esme, you know Valeria well, what would you say fits her style?”

“Hmm,” Esme hmms. “Well, she usually wears skirts. I’ve never seen her wear anything too short though. So very modest. The cloak is a must. I think she sleeps with it.”

“I don’t!” I lie. The cloak was a gift from mom. It’s real comfy and warm.

“Sure you don’t,” Felix says. I think she’s just supporting me because she wants to get out of here. For some reason, she never likes it when Esme and I play dress up with all of Mom’s nicer outfits.

“So, skirts are a must. Which is fair, most ladies still wear skirts, though loose pants in the style of Iaria are becoming somewhat common.” Bianca reaches out to squeeze my bicep. “Maybe a loose dress robe? It would give a nice contrast to the skirt. Or... perhaps a doublet?”

“Aren’t those for men?” I ask.

“They have some for women as well,” Bianca says. I’m tugged along after her and past rows of outfits. Bianca touches a skirt here, or a robe there, feeling the fabric and swishing some things around. I have no idea what she’s doing until she starts pointing at some items here and there. “We’ll take that dress to try on. And that vest. The dress robes here as well. Oh, and the blouse there, is that silk?”

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“It is,” the shopkeeper says.

“She’ll try that on too.”

“Uh,” I say. “That seems like a lot of trouble, no?” I ask. Trying on a bunch of outfits at home feels different. I’m at home, if I get a stain on something or it doesn’t fit right, then I can toss it back to the monsters and it’s all fine. This feels a whole lot more awkward somehow.

By the time we reach the end of the row, the shopkeeper has her arms full of clothes. “Where’s the changing room?” Bianca asks.

“In the corner, my lady,” comes a reply from behind the stack of dresses.

Bianca leads me over to the changing room, which is an actual room with a full-length mirror and a bench to sit on, then selects a few things from the shopkeeper’s arms. “Try these on. I see that there are some pins in that basket there. If anything is too loose, just pin it tighter, and if we choose to buy it I’m certain they have a seamstress that can do the fitting.”

“Uh, alright,” I say.

Bianca leaves, and I’m left with a heap of things to try on.

Maybe this is why Felix doesn’t like it when Esme and I make her wear things? The sudden lack of agency isn’t a great feeling.

But I can endure a bit of bullying if it will make my friends have some fun. With a roll of my eyes I try things on.

When I step out of the room, I find that Bianca is studying a pretty grey dress held up by the other shopkeeper, Esme’s reading on a bench, and Felix has somehow found a long red scarf that she’s trying to the end of her staff.

“So, what do you think?” I ask as I give them a spin.

I’m very much aware that my face isn’t covered, nor my eyes for that matter. My pale skin does nothing to hide the blue veins just under the surface. I think they’re really pretty on mom. They make her look mysterious and powerful, but on me they look a bit weird. My eyes don’t help, being all black and monster-y. I make sure not to meet the shopkeeper’s gaze, but she’s making a point not to stare.

Bianca steps over and inspects me from top to bottom. “No,” she says. “Not quite right. Come, we’ll try something else.” Back into the changing room we go, and Bianca pushes another blouse at me, along with a dress robe. “The skirt can stay, it suits you, I think.”

“Alright,” I say.

“Try this, and this,” Bianca says as she places things onto the bench. Then she grins at me. “You’ll look incredible, I’m sure.”

“Uh, thanks,” I say. I rub at my nose while willing my blush away until Bianca leaves. “You’re such an idiot, Valeria,” I mutter to myself as I get dressed again.

When I step out this time, Bianca’s missing, Esme’s wearing a pale yellow coat and staring at herself in a mirror, and one of the shopkeepers is trying a red sash around Felix’s waist. “Hey,” Felix says. “Oh yeah, that looks good on you. What do you think about this red thing? It matches my staff!”

“Oh, thanks, and it looks nice. Your jacket too, Esme.”

“Really?” Esme asks. “Bianca tossed it at me. I guess it’s comfortable. I might buy it, it is getting cool at night.” She glances at my outfit, then grins. “She does have an eye for this kind of thing, huh?”

I stare over into one of the mirrors. The outfit has a beige skirt and a brown vest over a silky white blouse. All of that covered by a dress robe that flows down to the same length as the skirt. “I guess so,” I say.

“Oh, good,” Bianca says as she returns. She’s in a blouse and pants of all things, with long boots that stop above the knee. “That looks really nice on you. But I think we’ll need a belt or something around the waist to pull it all together. Maybe something that matches your cloak?”

“Won’t that be too many layers?” I ask.

“Nonsense! You can never have enough of them. Maybe once we’re back at the inn I can show you a few different ways to fix your hair. There are some styles that are quite popular around here.”

“Uh, sure,” I say.

I can’t help but feel a bit warm in my chest. Weird, I don’t think I really need that much positive attention to get by. Maybe it’s the people I’m getting the attention from that matters?

***