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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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.