Shopping

"No-- no, you're not getting me here. My point isn't that the dress is wrong, it's that-"

"Nonsense! I understand ye perfectly, lass, now if ye'll just stop makin' such a fuss, we'll get ye sorted out with somethin' that'll make ye look just as fabulous as anyone else!"

Lyra's complaining was, once again, cut off by Harriet's cheerfully authoritative rebuke, before she could even finish it. This was ridiculous; you didn't go shopping for a dead girl! They didn't make sizes that small, unless Paris Hilton was having them tailor made! You couldn't make a bag of bones, with greying flesh and straw-like hair look good! It was a stupid prospect, and this was a stupid shopping trip. The only reason Lyra had come was...

...well, it certainly wasn't because Harriet was a scary, scary woman. Nope. Nothing like that at all. What made you think that? Oh, you didn't? Never mind then...

The bustling noise of Wing City Mall echoed around them as they stood in the shop, metaphorically up to their armpits in beautiful gowns, dresses and accessories - everything to make a normal woman look 'fabulous'. There was a small child crying a few rows of hanging clothes over that Lyra was considering kicking, just to distract herself from...

"Here's a nice one, I think that black suits ye - I like the patterning on this one, don't ye?" Harriet had found yet another supposedly beautiful dress to offer forwards. It wasn't that Lyra didn't like the dresses, it was that she knew that they really made no difference. An eyeless, skeletal, rotting zombie wasn't going to look nice whether she was in a beautiful gown, or practical slaying gear. And practical slaying gear was what Lyra was comfortable with. The dead girl surveyed the latest offering (apparently able to see it, despite her state of eyelessness), to at least give the impression of caring. It was black, as Harriet had said, with a number of silver flowers patterned onto its breast.

"Look, Harriet... none of these dresses are going to do it, because you see; I'm dead, my arms are bones, I'm not pretty-up-able." the slayer insisted, scowling.

"Ahh, I get what ye mean now, dear..."

"So you're going to stop trying now..?"

"Not in the slightest! I just know to alter me searchin' accordingly."

"No, you don't... I mean... you're not... aaaahhhhg. Whatever! Go, do it! See if I care! I'll just take the next one, if you're going to bully me into wearing a stupid dress anyway. And no, I am not stropping! I may be giving the impression if it, but I am not stropping!" Lyra exclaimed, shaking her head. This was a losing battle, it only made sense to give in now rather than four hours later. At least this way maybe she could get some drinking in before the day was done...

---

...Harriet was not discouraged, the plump woman bustling off into the distance to root around further. She'd already picked out what she wanted, a wonderful crimson red piece that perfectly complimented her golden hair, and her ample curves. Because that was how you referred to it - ample curvature. You never called a woman 'plump' to her face. That was like giving the wrong answer to the 'does my bum look big in this' bombshell. Lyra was such trouble! The girl was set on the fact that she hated wearing dresses, and was using being dead and not entirely pleasant to look at as an excuse. Well, Harriet had seen undead that were far more hideous than Lyra, and she was determined that before the day was done Lyra would be suitably beautified. Harriet wasn't into girly shopping trips as a rule, but sometimes these things had to be done -- weddings were one of those times.

And then, Harriet saw it. It was a magnificent dress, as all of them had been - pure black silk, with a wide line of glitter leading up the side around to form a swirl on the right side of the chest, like a shooting star, and with several other sparks dotted around the left. The difference between this and the others was the sleeves. Wide, billowing silks that would perfectly conceal Lyra's fleshless lower arms, while looking perfectly elegant all at the same time! It looked something like an evil queen might wear to a ball, but that was little matter - Lyra was undead, anyway. The evil look tended to suit dead people.

Turning around on heel, the dress in hand, Harriet returned to find her companion staring rather intently at a small child several rows over. "Ahem." Harriet coughed...

---

...Lyra looked up with a start. "Oh, no - I wasn't..." she fumbled, before deciding that speech was only going to get her in worse trouble, and so she simply made an excellent job of looking everywhere else. "So, um... what have you got now, dare I ask?"

Harriet proffered the dress forwards; and truth be told, it was nice. It did seem to be of that style that screamed 'I kill people in my spare time, but you don't hear about it because you're busy drinking wine at my snazzy estate in the best part of town'. The first part was Lyra's style, the second part... well, a girl could dream, right? She idly wondered what a jacuzzi would feel like to a dead person. Lyra wasn't about to get excited about it, of course - a dress was a dress, and she much preferred her usual gear... but Harriet looked ready to clobber her if she rejected this one, and so Lyra forced a smile. "It's, ah.. delightful? Let's go with that, yes? Yes, good. Can I go home now?"

Harriet chuckled, folding her arms. "Nonsense lass, we have your hair to do yet!"

"...oh good grief..."

"Vhat? I zhought it looked perfectly fine, myself. Ah.. no?"

Kastner stood admiring himself in a mirror - well, admiring was a strong word; surveying, or observing was perhaps more appropriate, conveying the rather... passive role he had in this affair - and examining the garment which he had on. It was a dress robe, royal purple and covered with golden marking, lace and embroidery... all the over-the-top nonsense that a practical robe avoided. Apparently, however, it was not extravagant enough for someone...

"No! It's awful! Can't you see it, the red there clashes with that purple! It's ugly! Take it off!" Elaina instructed, standing arms folded behind the exiled mage, glaring at him in the mirror over his shoulder. Turning with an exasperated sigh, she walked to a nearby chair and picked up on of the many bundles strewn across its back, gathering all the folds of the fabric up before marching over to Kastner once again and shoving them into his arms. "Here, try this one on." she ordered, "Go on, back in you go, mush mush mush! We don't have all day here!"

"Uh, yes dear. I ah, I shan't be long..." Kastner murmured, bustling away into the changing rooms once again. "Goodness, zhis is all such a stressful affair. Here I zhought zhis would be a quick, in-and-out trip, but nein! Vhat is quite wrong vhiz ze ozher robes, I have no clue!" he muttered, pulling the curtain to behind him and setting about undoing the many clasps and clips that held the complex robe together.

As Elaina paced back and forth outside, arms folded and eyes directed at the ceiling, a small crowd of shop attendants observed her from just out of sight warily. They had gathered slowly over time, to observe what appeared to be a rather volatile situation. The attendant that had tried to approach and offer aid was nursing bruised pride after this obviously very important mage's - if the robes he was considering were anything to go by - partner had de-manned him and belittled any knowledge of fashion he might have thought he possessed, sending him on his way in short order with a string of criticisms a mile long.

Kastner was not, in fact, a lord amongst mages; quite the opposite. But it was Elaina's intent to rub it in the face of all the snobs at the wedding that the man they had exiled by merit of the types of magic that he practised (whilst allowing the likes of Godeaux to remain accepted, after the tales of torture that had carried even as far as the Academia Everia) was in fact far more important than any of them in the world of magic. He had made far more advances in his lifetime than they could have even hoped for, and if Elaina had her way he would be garbed to suit it. The politics behind robes were rather intricate, she found, and observing circles of mages it was clear that one only wore a robe that befitted your station - it was incredibly insulting to wear a robe more extravagant and luxurious than your superior, and a matter of great amusement if a more powerful and influential mage wore a robe that was below their status. Elaina had every intent of dragging Kastner to that wedding wearing a robe suitable only for a Lord of mages, just to deliver a kick to those slimey bastards' shins.

As Kastner emerged from the curtain, Elaina turned to survey the latest choice, the attendants watched on in anticipation, and Kastner let out a sigh.

And so the cycle began again...

"So what are weddings like for -- for your people?" Though it was nearly ten years ago, Liesha could still recall the voice just perfectly -- low, quavering, not quite willing to believe. "Dances? What are the vows like? The minister? Does the bride have magic woven into the dress, or something? Do your people even get married, or .. "

"We have normal weddings. We use normal bridal shops." Special Agent Kennicot was fresh from the Academy way back then -- smiling patiently across a desk at her first Know-Nothing witness. "We say normal vows. We're really just normal people. Like you."

"Except .. magic?

"Except magic."

Liesha opened her eyes, pushed past the memories, and was brought back to Kleinfield's Bridal on the corner of W Clark and Houston.

A flurry of attendants had Gina Tedrick swarmed up on her pedestal. The slender slayer had her arms stretched to the side, an expression of intense concentration multiplied by the tri-fold mirror. Aubrey, the seamstress, took in the bust while Chloe, Jessica and Margot -- (the former their lead sales consultant, the latter two being trainees) -- commented on the fabric, the folds, and how best to accent Gina's heart-shaped face. They were speaking in very fast, loose, disconnected sentences. There were a lot of tape measures, and shaking of heads.

Liesha had been standing, arms crossed against the far wall with her attention wandering. She caught herself wishing there was more color in the room. Everything was white, fluffy, and exceedingly expensive. Needless to say, Liesha wasn't looking very cheerful at the moment, and those poor sales girls kept glancing over at the SCD Director -- not sure if the blonde woman was a disgruntled mother, an aunt, or a sister.

But the mother was there. Marie Tedrick hovered at the heels of the Klienfield staff, a bit sour and cranky after being told for the eight time to put out her cigarette -- but otherwise sweet and nonthreatening. Her eyes teared up either from joy, or from the price tag poking out from the bottom furls of Gina's current dress. Liesha had been watching closely. Marie didn't look any more psychotic than, say, her own mother.

'If I look like I swallowed a lemon before coming here .. ' Liesha felt like clarifying after one-too-many curious glances -- though she said none of it aloud -- 'It's because when I said I had a war to organize, I did not mean the war of cycling through every size zero your warehouses have to offer.'

'Also .. ' She would mentally continue. ' .. it is not because of jealousy. I could be married now, if I wanted to be.'

"So if you're normal .. except for the magic .. then why aren't you married?"

" .. let's just review your statement for arraignment, okay?

As the nostalgia swirled again, Liesha gave a snort.

The snort was a bit louder than what she had planned it. Instead of just the new girls, Liesha found herself attracting five complete sets of eyes -- one of them a glittering, narrowed shade of violet.

Alright, make that eight. Jadeling, Jacey, and Cloasse weren't too far away, safely staying out of any strike zone while Gina glided back and forth. The three girls knew each other by name, by face, and watched Liesha expectantly.

"What?" The witch scowled. She seemed to slouch further into the wall. "Carry on. Or something."

"You know .. " Jadeling leaned in to the other two girls, grinning. "Liesha's so pretty. I wonder why she's not married .. ?"

While Jacey and Cloasse appeared to be in some high foul temper, Jadeling couldn't stop grinning. She was done with school (thank Aramei!) and would (hopefully) be off to the SCD Academy in the fall -- once she passed the entrance exam, and once she explained to her family that she would not be pursuing her studies in applied Runic cryptography.

None of that mattered now. She was in New York City on a fine summer's day -- only a few afternoons from what was going to be the most exciting wedding on the face of the planet!

The memories of the Hollow Men, Rita, Malachi, and Saen's murder were still fresh in her mind, but for the most part things had settled down, right? Zane was no longer under Rita's control, and wasn't too bad once you got to talking. Ignore the fact that there was still no information on who had controlled the Hollow Men, and things were just hunky-dory! Jadeling reached down subconsciously, her pack of throwing cards always at her side. Alright, since Aramei had collapsed, she was a little jumpy ..

.. but it was nothing she couldn't handle. She was, after all, going to be an SCD Agent someday. Hopefully.

As Jacey had wandered off by Liesha, now, this left just both the scrit girls. Jade cast a curious eye at the spine of Cloasse's book.

"Vogler's work, huh?" Jadeling grinned, and wrinkled her nose. "God, that stuff is boring, right? I endured four years of it, you know. All his talk on single-base figures and differing sets droves me abso-freakin-lutely insane. The worst part is I won't even be using any of that theory stuff, since I'm going to the SCD Academy anyways. Hopefully."

She spoke flippantly, but not in an intentionally cutting way -- more like, 'I'm a fairly average American teenager who hates a lot of studying. Never midn the fact that the relations of High Wizardry are hinging on my being successfully sworn in as the first classroom-taught scrit'. She was pretty, and out going -- turning eighteen on the day of this charmed, chaotic wedding -- and besides the fact that her friends had been wanted dead for half a year, the world was her oyster!

The cluster of women in their pointy, pointy heels suddenly withdrew. Gina stood fettered and fixed up with her hair down, eyes bright. The dress hung elegantly, short enough for a June wedding, the cut of the neck matching her chin. The train billowed just slightly, and now that the attendees were done fussing it looked like a cloud behind a radiant, violet-eyed beam of sunlight.

"Well?" Gina glowed. "What do you think?"

Amid the cries of 'beautiful!' and 'perfect!' there came one very flat, very unamused -- 'Terrible."

Liesha's reply was as brusque as she was. The witch hardly looked up, more intent in her phone and its recent text. "You think you'll be able to fight anyone in that?"

Gina gazed steadily at the witch, who gazed right back, eyebrows raised. Those aware of Gina's more .. ambitious abilities knew that in the blink of an eye, she could have been off the pedestal, and a stiletto heel could have been growing out of Liesha's chest.

But the slender slayer only clicked her tongue, and turned -- still beaming -- back to the group of very confused Klienfield's employees.

"She's right. Absolutely right. I need something a bit shorter, I think, either that or can you alter the train so that it rips right off? This isn't .. no. This probably isn't fire proofed .. " Gina gathered the folds of the dress, swished them around.

"We .. " Aubrey, the seamstress, blinked. " .. we'll see what we can do, Miss Tedrick?"

"Excellent!" Gina was nothing but smiles and happiness. She spun a dangerous pirouette on the pedestal, and Mrs. Tedrick almost lunged to catch her daughter as she danced off and onto the floor. "Now .. let's talk bridesmaid dresses .. "