Chapter 18 - Dolls and Dresses

Wherein shopping for dresses is a whole lot different than Rose had guessed, and Valentina doesn’t learn much about Bosra.

Four days after meeting at the Paragon's Cup, the three women met at the seamstress. 

The shop was more akin to a salon than an actual store, with fashion books lying about and boxes with ribbons and buttons being passed around. Flutes of champagne were offered upon entry.

Rose was perplexed. Her mouth would not close as she looked around. There were no other customers. Lace drapes covered the window, letting in enough natural light to see clearly, while at the same time giving the room a more secluded ambiance. 

"Tina..." she started in a whisper, suddenly aware of where her boots had been all day. "I'm gonna mess up the carpet, and they’ll have conniptions over the state of my undies."

"Don't worry, they won't tell. That's partly why they ask such a high price." Tina’s reply did not bolster Rose's spirits. 

"This ain’t no place for me," she hissed at her friend. 

"Yes, it is. Now sit. Ask for sherry if you don’t like the champagne, and let me handle the rest." 

Rose promptly sat on an ottoman and tried to keep her feet in the same spot so as not to mess up the exotic carpet. 

She listened in on the conversation Valentina was having with the mistress of the shop. The words didn't make much sense to her, however. Taffeta. Tule. Bustline. Bustle.

The mistress promptly sent two girls over; they flitted about, prodding Rose, prompting her about colours and types of lace. After a good fifteen minutes of this, she was pushed into a dressing room in the back. Mirrors covered all the walls, even the little door that seemed placed at an odd height. 

"Undress, darling, and show me what we're working with. We'll make you look pretty," the mistress cooed. 

Extremely self-conscious, Rose did as she was told. The mirrors magnified every bump and freckle.

Bosra had never been to this specific seamstress before, but she had been to comparably fancy places. She let herself be given a glass of bubbles. She also accepted a booklet of fashion plates. She sat and leafed through it whilst the Pupper was undergoing everything with astonishment. 

Tina appeared to be in her element, biting her lip in excitement and making simple suggestions here and there. It was good to see the girl did have Pupper's best interest at heart. 

Bosra switched booklets partway through the first one, the style of the dresses not doing much for her. 

"Will this be your first time at court?" the shop mistress asked her, providing her with a refill on the bubbles. 

"No."

"You know... a few years back there was gossip about a Highlander woman at court. She came with a group of adventurers. They were lauded for saving the realm."

Bosra shrugged. "I reckon it happens."

"Hmmm." The mistress gave her another once-over. "She had clan markings just like yours."

"It's a Highlander thing," Bosra tried to dismiss the attention. 

"Just like yours," the mistress emphasised. "I remember because I studied the quick-sketches for days. I couldn't understand why any of my colleagues dared dress up such a magnificent frame with that lollipop dress. It was ugly as sin."

"Hmpf." Bosra had to agree with that. She had been assured it had been what was in fashion, and that she would not stand out negatively. 

The woman smiled knowingly, then winked. "Don't worry. I will make sure you look like a queen." It would be her reputation at stake if she failed to make good on her promise.

Sizing the mistress up, Bosra decided the woman had ambition and could therefore be trusted to design something striking. "All right then."

She looked over at the Pupper who emerged from the changing room, looking spooked.

"Take care of my girl, too." She was sure her tone made it clear what she meant. 

The mistress took a step back, cleared her throat and nodded. "Yes, of course." She intercepted Rose, and with a few words made the girl feel more at ease.

Bosra looked over at Tina. "This was a good plan."

"Thank you," Tina replied, smoothing her skirts and looking very pleased with herself. Very pleased indeed. "I want you both to like these parties, you know. And for people to like you." Which was something that simply wouldn't happen if her friends showed up in adventurer-chic outfits. 

"They will or they won't." Bosra didn’t worry about that. She wondered if she could avoid being recognised in the high circles, as she had just been by the shopkeeper. The real hobnobs might not remember yesterday's hero, but the servants... They had better memories by far. If not her clan markings, then the gold bow on her shoulder would give her away as ‘blessed’.

"Hmm." Tina scrunched her nose and brows like she was deep in thought. "How old are you?"

"Does it matter?" Highlanders, like humans, were not particularly long-lived. Not like gnomes, or dwarves, with a lifespan of centuries, and certainly not like elves. They did live longer than the average green-skin, but then again, only animals had shorter lifespans than them. 

"Well... No... I guess it doesn't. I was just wondering... How come you're always so... stoic?"

Bosra shrugged. "There's no use in getting riled up until there's something to get riled up about. Just makes you tired."

"See! That! I have never heard anyone speak like that."

"Ain't telling you nothing that's not true."

"Exactly!" Tina nearly bounced off her chair like a particularly bouncy bunny. 

Bosra didn't have an answer for Tina, though it was probably a clan thing. She had never known Highlanders that were easily riled, save for those that used anger as a combat tactic. And that was more of a choice, anyway. 

Maybe it was a giant-kin thing. She simply took longer to process and by the time she had, the issue had been resolved. 

She didn't think it had much to do with her age. She was nearing the end of her fourth decade. She'd been through her fertile cycles in her second and third decade and would be safe from the hormones until she was nearing the end of her next. She figured the choice to have more kids or not would be settled.

The death of her son was the reason she left the Highlands and started wandering into more civilised territories, where she had been picked up by a group that could use a survival expert and longbowman. She had been able to fill both positions at once. There had been a short romance with a green-skin at one point after that, in her late twenties, but... He had been eaten by a monster because he had been an idiot. She had kept to loving pets and friends after that. 

Now, she was out of the wandering life and intended to keep it that way. 

"You still didn't answer me on how old you are," Tina prodded again. 

"Does it matter?"

Tina scrunched up her nose and brows again. "Maybe it does." 

Valentina was quieter than usual on her way home with Rose and Bosra. The conversation with Bosra kept playing through her mind. Did it really matter that she didn't know the age of the giantess? No, not really, she thought. Would that knowledge change how she viewed her friend? Probably. It would lead to other topics to explore, meandering paths to follow to a bygone past. 

Rose and herself were of an age, the girl only four years her junior. Bosra seemed... timeless. The grey skin and clan markings aided in this. It was difficult to read age on her face, yet the dark eyes spoke of experiences neither she nor Rose had had. 

All their lives had been different before they met each other. 

They were still living different lives even now.

Valentina was quiet during dinner, too, and retired early. 

Though she had not slept much, she had an epiphany about the jewellery issue. There was one place she knew with certainty that she could find what she needed for her friends.

The next day she waited to come down until both women had left. She had dressed in a pencil skirt, silk stockings and a cute frilly blouse, a string of pearls adorning her neck. She slipped into high-heeled shoes and a coat that was more for show than for warmth. She called a private carriage and waited in the hallway for it to arrive. Like she would poison the house with her presence dressed in what felt like a uniform to her. 

She breathed deeply before opening the door and tried not to rush into the cab. A lady never rushed. One foot set sedately in front of the other.

The weather was turning. Cold sleet made the street hazy. A cutting wind turned tiny droplets into needles that pierced through cloth and skin. Winter had arrived.

If they were lucky, they would get some snow in the new year. But snow or not, there would be rain or hail-storms until spring. Nothing too dramatic of course; the high-thaumic weather-speaker would make sure of that. 

Already chilled to the bone and soaked, she slipped into the mechanised cab, tucking herself in beside the thaumic fluid cylinders protruding from the luggage compartment. She gave the driver her father's address. 

"Effyne Palace?" The man regarded her like he didn't believe she would enter his cab in this neighbourhood if she wanted to go uptown. 

"Yes." She handed him a handful of sesters. "This should suffice, if you do not believe my father will recompense you for your effort."

"Honest work, honest pay." The man ignored the sesters. "Pay me when we get there."

"Alright." She put the coins back into her reticule. As the carriage set itself into fluid motion, she shivered, knowing she would have to tell her father the truth about her friends. More than coming clean with him, she dreaded facing her mother.

~

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