They pick out a dress. A pair of riding boots Ivory hopes to use one day. Heels. A simple chemise. Along with the pants Ivory had first spotted, and a leather bag to fit all her newly acquired items. The clothes are all made from the cheapest fabrics Ivory could find, which, coming from Anna's store, means that they are still pretty expensive and worth the arms of two men.

“Are you sure you don't mind?” Anne asks Ivory, as she combs through her long, and now braided strands. “You won't have enough for an ornament to pin up your hair if you take all of this. The more… casual-wear, I mean.”

Ivory nods. “Your ornaments are charming, however,” she shakes her head, “I've no need for them. Once the ball is over, I cannot think of an occasion that would be suited for their beauty. They would certainly be much happier if owned by another, who would wear them on the daily, rather than myself.”

Anne laughs. “You speak like my accessories are human.”

“Well...” Ivory frowns. Her fingers bunch around the fabric that rests atop her knees. “In a sense, do you not think you have left a piece of yourself behind, in what you've created?”

The seamstress hums. She finishes off Ivory's last braid with a satisfied huff, then glances at the clock, and back at Robin again, who is still having the time of his life with a toy Anne gifted him—which is more a leftover feather from one of Anne's failed hats, rather than something made for a bird actually.

Anne clears her throat. “Maybe at first...” She shrugs. “Now that I view creating fashion as work, it's hard sometimes to remember why I do this, or if I ever loved it to begin with.”

“But”—Ivory glances at her from over her shoulder in mild disbelief—”what you make is so lovely!” A gasp escapes her parted lips. “You do not enjoy it? At all?”

“I wish it was as easy as the mere concept of liking or disliking something.” Anna sighs. She grabs a palette of makeup that had been left partially open next to a brush—one that soon finds itself painting lighter shades of pink over Ivory's cheeks. “I do enjoy it, yes, though sometimes I forget I do; or what led me to this line of work in the first place.” Her words leave Ivory with a cringe that slowly settles in her features.

Ivory wishes she could understand, though considering she has barely figured out what cause she would live and die for, it is complicated to do so. Maybe later she will comprehended it—later, when she has finally explored all that she had not gotten to in her short-lived lifetime.

Anna pauses. She smiles, and turns to face Robin who caws with enthusiasm over the shine in Ivory's new clothes.

“Were you born in Aglia?” the question leaves Ivory's mouth before she has thought it. “Ah, I'm sorry,” she quickly adds, “you don't have to answer.”

Anna raises a brow. “Why not? Is it taboo to ask? I’m not ashamed of my origins.”

“W-Well...” Ivory purses her lips together. She glances at the floorboards. “It's not really... related to the dress, per se.”

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“It's okay.” Anna shrugs. Outside, a couple women stop to look through the shop's window. “Sorry to disappoint though, but it's not very interesting.” The seamstress chuckles. “I'm from Linemell. It's a tiny village hidden amid the mountains that no one ever mentions. Doubt you've ever heard of it.” Ivory wishes she could say she has, but Anne's claims are true; the name doesn't even sound mildly familiar to her.

The women that once stood before the shop stroll away. They fan themselves from the heat with their various crescent and lavish handheld accessories. Ivory is persuaded they would not be in need such things, if they were more inclined to the concept of wearing less layers, and sacrificing superficial beauty, on warm days like these.

Anne huffs. “There! All done!” She steps back to admire her handiwork. She motions at Robin. “You can call back your little guy now.”

Ivory nods. With a grin, she whispers his name. The crow happily bobs his head before he takes off and lands against her shoulder once more. “Thank you,” Ivory tells the seamstress, who has broken down in a frown as she looks at them both. “Um...” Ivory gulps. “Is something the matter?”

The seamstress holds her finger up and cringes. “Something’s wrong…” She taps her jaw with the tip of her nail. Her squint forces her eyes to narrow. “Wait here,” she mutters, as she storms off, back into the room where all her dresses are stored.

No more than a minute later, Anne returns with a tiny top hat, whose eccentric green ribbon matches part of the shading in Ivory's gown. The seamstress ties it to the crow's head and gives him yet another seed to munch on.

With two palms glued to hips, Anne huffs. “There. Perfect!” She glances up at Ivory, who is watching her in silence stupefaction. “Oh, don't worry, it's on me. You don't have to pay for that one.”

As thankful as she may be, and as adorable as Robin may look, Ivory blinks twice in total and utter confusion. “But why?” she asks Anne, for she had always heard others say it was terrible for a business to give free things away—especially one owned by only a single person.

Anne scratches the crow's chin and chuckles. “He reminds me of an old friend.” Yet, the fondness in her eyes disappears when she walks them to the door. Her joy is quick to be replaced by bittersweet loss. “Come on, you don't want to be late,” she tells Ivory.

“Your friend—” Ivory rises to her feet. She reaches out hug Anne, but stops herself and gulps. “Is he—”

“They are not long-lived creatures, it was bound to happen one day or another.” Anne's voice is softer now, a whisper. Her back is still turned to Ivory. “Cherish the moments you have together, all right?” she says.

Ivory cannot take it anymore. She grabs Anne’s palm and gives it a squeeze, as if to say, I’m here. I’m listening.

When Anne faces her, she has tears in her eyes, and her nose is red, too.

“I'm sure your friend was very glad to have met you. I'm sure you changed their life.”

The seamstress laughs, though the sound is filled with the shadow of something other than relief. “Honestly,” she mutters. “I'm the one whose life was changed. This shop”—she forces a smile as her eyes trace their surroundings—”everything here, it would never have even existed if I hadn't tried to make her a cloak when I found her starving in the winter years ago.” To these words, Robin babbles. This time, Anne’s laughter is genuine. “They're wonderful little creatures. Incredibly smart, too,” she tells the both of them, as she leans in to pet him one final time. “I wish the people here would stop seeing them as pests.”

When they part ways, and Ivory finally sets out under the dying sun, she cannot help but agree with Anne’s words.

But their conversation is soon forgotten, once she focuses on following a trail of giggling women who gossip about the Prince and his attendants.

Ivory marches on. Toward the Palace, and a new tomorrow.