herr_bookman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
herr_bookman) wrote2013-06-02 09:47 pm
herr_bookman) wrote2013-06-02 09:47 pm
OOM: The Clothes Make the Man
After thoroughly embarrassing herself in front of Lohengrin, Autor holds her cloak shut and staggers up the stairs. She grips the banister and tries not to slide back down the steps, gritting her teeth. How those girls do ballet, I have no idea, she thinks, as she grits her teeth against a fresh wave of nausea.
'Moving is difficult' was not a side-effect the boy-turned-girl expected.
Once she manages to stumble to her room, she drops her cloak to the floor. Then she digs into the bundle Bar gave her for the Goldkrone Academy's girl's dress. The boy's uniform she's currently wearing is a little too recognizable--and it's a tiny bit too large, besides.
After setting the dress on the bed, she lifts a lacy contraption between two fingers and holds it out at arm's length. "The hell is this?" she says, marveling at the pitch of her voice.
It only takes her a few seconds, of course, to recognize what it is, and why Bar gave it to her. But that's long enough to shriek and toss it in the corner--which unbalances her just enough to tip over.
This... is quite possibly the worst idea I've ever had.
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"Autor? Is that you?"
Mia didn't quite see everything but her features don't match anyone else the Guildmaster would know from Gold Crown. After Autor's difficulty getting up the stairs, Mia wasn't sure she wanted to leave her completely alone.
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"No!" she says, digging her nails into the bedpost to drag herself to her feet. "I mean, yes! But I-I'm fine!"
Ack! I still sound like a girl!
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"Are you sure? I mean, if you need me to get you something..."
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She shakes her head at the lacy thing, coiled up like a viper in the corner of the room. This is ridiculously embarrassing, he thinks. But Mia won't talk.
"Okay," she says hesitantly. "You can come in."
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"Your first Cubefall," she observes with a small nod. "I remember mine well. I chose to turn into a fox."
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Autor smiles at her, sheepish. "Er," she says, rolling up the blue sleeves brushing the tips of her fingers. "That probably would have been a better idea than this."
She huffs, trying not to cling to the bedpost overly much. "I didn't realize that the center of gravity between the sexes was so different!"
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"I wouldn't know too much myself. I've never tried changing sex on this holiday."
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Autor grasps at the offered fingers with gratitude, but it's clear that she's still annoyed. "Mia. I can't change back," she says. "I'm stuck like this for three days, and I can't even get dressed."
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Mia looks at the dress on the bed before glancing around the room for a chair.
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There is one, thankfully, next to the desk.
"Fair enough," she says, and adjusts her glasses--or tries. Even her fingers are smaller than they were. "It's just difficult to remember why I chose this, that's all."
She stares at the floor and fiddles with the hem of her uniform. "Um. Thank you. For coming to check on me."
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Mia guides Autor to sit on the bed beside the dress before going to the chair. She pulls it away from the desk, bringing it closer to them.
"Of course, it's no trouble. Here, do you need a hand out of your blazer? Even just doing that will help, I think."
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Autor furrows her brow at that. "Strange creatures indeed."
At Mia's offer of assistance, she blanches. "Ah! I, um. I can get it," she says. "Really, I'm all right now. I should be fine dressing on my own."
As long as she doesn't mess with the lacy, pokey thing in the corner.
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It is a strange thing to ask, even if it is just helping a person out of their coat.
"Here, I'll go then," she says, turning to the door.
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"Wait!" she says, and looks anywhere by the corner as her cheeks flush. Prettily. "I still don't know how to put on that thing. That... the brassiere."
She curls her toes in shoes which are slightly too big and points them inward. "Could you show me how it works, maybe? Before you go?"
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Mia turns towards Autor again and looks near the dress for the bra in question.
"I probably could if I knew where it was."
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"Oh!" she squeaks, sitting up straight. "I, ah, threw it over there."
The hand gesture is vague, but is vigorous enough to push her sleeves back down over her fingers.
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Unlike Autor's previous treatment, Mia inspects the garment inside and out, testing the closure and looking for a tag for size.
"I don't know how comfortable this will be. Some like lace better than others. This will be all right for the meantime but I can get a couple of different ones for you."
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It should fit her perfectly. Bar gave it to her, after all. But Autor didn't even think about comfort when requesting a girl's uniform. She didn't think about that piece of it at all.
Lace pressing up against her chest--oh good heavens, I have a chest--is just another part of what is, as a whole, a terrible idea.
"It laces up the back," she points out, eyeing the frilly thing warily. "How am I supposed to put it on? And another thing: the dress doesn't have pockets. Women's clothing is so impractical. How do you even function?"
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"Backwards," the Guildmaster answers. "It's often easier to fasten a brassiere on backwards and then turn it around than trying to work behind your back."
She shakes her head at the mention of pockets. "I actually do have pockets up my sleeves but, yes, most dresses come without. I really don't understand why."
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"Oh," Autor says, to both of her explanations.
She fiddles with the buttons on her blazer--his blazer, he corrects himself--or is it? Her fingers aren't his own, but he still controls them. Am I really female, then? he thinks, tongue swollen. Or am I myself and just in a female body? I sound different, and walk differently, but... how different am I?
Her hands still on his buttons.
Immediately, alarmed, he turns them over and spreads her fingers. Her hands are smaller, cuter, more delicate. But--he notes with relief--they still have his fine, white scars on her knuckles from all the times he split them open.
Interesting, he thinks, agitated. Slightly.
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The girl swallows and holds up her limp hands, fingers dangling. "I'm not used to these," he says, with her voice.
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"It'll be all right. They're stronger than you think."
She tilts her head a moment, suddenly curious.
"Does your sister look like you? I wonder if she might look like this when she's older."
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That... Isn't exactly his issue. But she reassures him all the same. Her question, however, startles him, as he'd forgotten he'd mentioned his sister to her at all. She knows so much!
"She does," she murmurs, holding out a few strands of hair to see if it matches his. "But I don't know if she'll grow up to look this way, because I haven't seen myself with this body yet."
Overall, she's smaller, softer, and has a strange swell to her hips. But what of her face?
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Once the mirror is in Autor's hands, Mia picks up the bra again and walks around the bed. She sits on the other side, facing Autor's back.
"I know this is probably going to be uncomfortable in more ways than one for you but, if you take your shirt off, I can help you put your brassiere on from behind."
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"Oh," she says, watching her soft cheeks grow more and more rosy in the mirror. Her features certainly mimic his. Wider eyes, smaller nose, thin jaw--the same, but different.
Are all girls this way? he thinks, brushing her fingers against thicker, redder lips. Do I just not pay attention to their faces?
Mia, again, startles him. "I don't--" she says, clutching her blazer closed in her distress. He'd close her eyes, but if he wants to pass as a female, he needs to know how to manage this garment. "I don't disrobe in front of people in my regular body. But I'm not going to figure that thing out by myself."
Off comes the blazer--his shield--ending up as a blue cloth puddle on the floor.
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But then, she had never seen a doctor until she was sixteen. She doesn't know how regular it is for people in Gold Crown to see the doctor.
"Even though I'd only be looking at your back, would it help if I turn away until the brassiere's in position? Then you'll be covered again and I can fasten it for you."
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She smirks at that, feeling just a bit more like himself. "As you've probably guessed already, I'm not one for visiting physicians."
Then she nods, and starts working on removing his shirt. "That's acceptable. Let's try that."
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Mia turns to sit on the other side of the bed, handing the bra to Autor without looking.
"Let me know when you're ready."
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Autor closes the bra around herself as well as he's able, given general awkwardness and the use of her newly-shortened and slimmer fingers.
"Okay," she says, marveling at the curve of her waist. "I'm ready."
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"Let me know if it's too tight," she says as she gently laces the undergarment.
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Autor slouches, gritting her teeth. The lace is the most uncomfortable fabric he's ever worn, and the texture is scratchy and the lines rub up against her ribs and... other bits which he's pretty sure are more sensitive now. Why do women even wear these!
If he doesn't think about it, maybe that will keep him from going mad.
So he changes the subject. "Say, Mia," she says, gripping the bedspread to keep from fidgeting overly much. "If I don't want people to recognize me, I'm going to need a girl's name, right?"
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Mia finishes with the bra.
"Does that feel all right?"
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"No," she says petulantly, and holds her arms against her chest, feeling exposed. "Ach, sorry. It's not your fault this thing is a torture device."
She pouts a little, furrowing her brow. "I'm not sure. Autumn would be easy to remember, but it's also too close to my real name."
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She hands Autor the dress.
"What about Audrey?"
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Autor has no idea what Mia is talking about, but he thinks it's about the strangely-shaped chest holder currently cinched around his new body's ribs. So he'll ignore that and worry about wires and closures when it becomes a problem.
"Audrey? There's Aubrey and Aura, too," she says, shoving her head through the dress top. She grins and poofs the sleeves to the level of ridiculous they're supposed to have. "Any more Au names, and I'll be golden."
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Unfortunately, Mia never did learn about the Periodic Table of Elements.
"Well, if Au names don't suit you, what about Laticia? Or Lihrina?"
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Autor smiles a bit. He didn't expect her to have known, but he figured he may as well try for the joke.
"Oh, I've got it," she says. "What about Annette?" She sits up straighter, chuckling. "Annette d'Auriville. The young Anne from gold town."
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Mia does like the sound of it.
"I hope I can remember that."
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"I do, too," Annette says, smiling. "Thank you for all of your help, Mia."
She knows most of my secrets and then some, he thinks, and is surprised to find that he doesn't mind.
"I'll see you in the bar, then," she says, ignoring the prickly bra scratching against his skin. "When I can walk properly."
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"All right Annette," she says, testing the name out.
She gets up and walks to the door only to stop and go, "Oh, did you want me to get those other clothes now?"
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"Yes, please," she says, tugging on her skirt. He hadn't realized just how exposed her legs would be. "I'd very much appreciate that. Thank you again for your help."
Maybe this won't be the worst idea I've ever had, he thinks, as she pulls herself to a stand on shaky legs. I have plenty of time to make dumber ones.