The finished dresses are, admittedly, not nearly so instantly eye-catching as the bolt of cloth is, but that's less a criticism of the dresses and more just a reflection of how extra the cloth of gold is, in and of itself. But that doesn't mean she fusses over them any less; each one gets its turn beneath her scrutiny, lifting them up and turning them over to examine the fastenings and the craftsmanship, in part out of wonder and in part from the sheer practicality of, well, she's never actually worn such a thing before, and doesn't precisely know all the ins and outs of how it works.
But she's nothing if not ambitious, and so it happens that the one she ultimately selects is the soft green one, mostly on the principle of "go big or go home". So she re-folds the others and replaces them back in their lump, before tiptoeing over to the door and closing it to ensure against any random passerby seeing what she's doing (there are only two other people in the entire castle but OH WELL) before returning to figure out the trappings of this dress.
There are, unsurprisingly, several false starts, in which she's not entirely sure if she's supposed to step into it or pull it over her head, and where to loosen what cleverly-crafted pieces to get her limbs where they belong before tightening things up again. But eventually she's pretty much worked out the basics, and she wriggles into it carefully to avoid the risk of pulling out any stitching, and she...actually discovers she can't get it properly fastened on her own because she can't reach it but she does the best she can at making it halfway to functional, at least.
And then she looks at herself in the mirror, and the sight nearly bowls her over. She's so used to the Speakers' atmosphere of conformity and androgyny that it's startling to see herself like this — narrow-waisted, long-sleeved, full-skirted, femininity shouted to the world instead of kept under wraps.
She stares at herself awhile, twisting and turning and discovering with pleasure how every movement makes the skirt swish. Then, when she's had her fill of staring, it's off to find Alucard, with her skirts lightly picked up to keep them clear of her feet — and that affords her no small measure of girlish glee in and of itself.]
no subject
The finished dresses are, admittedly, not nearly so instantly eye-catching as the bolt of cloth is, but that's less a criticism of the dresses and more just a reflection of how extra the cloth of gold is, in and of itself. But that doesn't mean she fusses over them any less; each one gets its turn beneath her scrutiny, lifting them up and turning them over to examine the fastenings and the craftsmanship, in part out of wonder and in part from the sheer practicality of, well, she's never actually worn such a thing before, and doesn't precisely know all the ins and outs of how it works.
But she's nothing if not ambitious, and so it happens that the one she ultimately selects is the soft green one, mostly on the principle of "go big or go home". So she re-folds the others and replaces them back in their lump, before tiptoeing over to the door and closing it to ensure against any random passerby seeing what she's doing (there are only two other people in the entire castle but OH WELL) before returning to figure out the trappings of this dress.
There are, unsurprisingly, several false starts, in which she's not entirely sure if she's supposed to step into it or pull it over her head, and where to loosen what cleverly-crafted pieces to get her limbs where they belong before tightening things up again. But eventually she's pretty much worked out the basics, and she wriggles into it carefully to avoid the risk of pulling out any stitching, and she...actually discovers she can't get it properly fastened on her own because she can't reach it but she does the best she can at making it halfway to functional, at least.
And then she looks at herself in the mirror, and the sight nearly bowls her over. She's so used to the Speakers' atmosphere of conformity and androgyny that it's startling to see herself like this — narrow-waisted, long-sleeved, full-skirted, femininity shouted to the world instead of kept under wraps.
She stares at herself awhile, twisting and turning and discovering with pleasure how every movement makes the skirt swish. Then, when she's had her fill of staring, it's off to find Alucard, with her skirts lightly picked up to keep them clear of her feet — and that affords her no small measure of girlish glee in and of itself.]