poor delicate tiny scholarbaby

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.