as written by Peachy00Keen and Steam Wolf
Staring up at the night sky and taking in a deep breath of fresh air, Karyyk felt a wave of relief wash over her. Looking around, she could see what looked like a small town in the not-too-far-off distance, and on the horizon, there was a great glow that filled the sky.
"Where are we...?" she asked with childlike caution. Excitement played at the edges of her voice.
"It's the village nearest the city. It has a very silly name." He bumped up against her and nuzzled her shoulder. "I think we should camp for the night. I don't want to overwhelm you all at once."
"Doesn't the town have a tavern or an inn?"
"Baby steps."
"But we're so close... Can't we just--"
"I would have thought you'd want to sleep under a big night sky after our harrowing sojourn." Greg spoke the final two words in a facetious tone.
"I'm too excited to sleep," she said, almost bouncing with barely-contained eagerness to explore. She began to walk toward the town, still looking around with wide eyes.
Greg shrugged and started taking out his kit. "That's fine. I suppose I'll catch up to you tomorrow."
She stopped in her tracks and turned on one heel and stared back into the night at Greg. "Why...?" she moused. "That's mean... I just want to see things and you want me to stay here." She walked back and took one of his arms in her hand and started pulling in the direction of the village. "Can I at least go look?"
"Ngh. Fine." He tossed the things back into his pack and allowed himself to get dragged along.
Karyyk barreled forth at a speed that had Greg skidding along on his heels behind her as he was pulled onward. At such a clip, the village came up quickly. She came to a halt at the edge of town and hid behind some trees. The streets of the central plaza were empty save for the warm glow of the streetlights and a single street sweeper with his broom.
"Now what?" she whispered to Greg as she admired the buildings from behind the branches. "The buildings are so big," she gawped, "but your city is a little smaller than you made it sound. I don't see any airships, either."
"Sure, let's go with that for now. Welcome to Angrah City. Let's find an inn for the night and tomorrow I'll shatter your illusions." He took her hand and pulled her in the direction of the town square. "I think the inn is called The Pig & Whistle or something like that." The square was lit by the occasional crystal street lamp as they made their way to the hanging sign for the aforesaid.
Reaching around to turn her pack to the front of her body, Karyyk fished through it for the coins Greg had placed on the counter back at Wygo's Tavern. "How much does a room cost?" she asked, pulling one of the coins out of the bottom of a pocket.
"One or two of those, typically. Likely only one, out here."
"Oh," she said as she recovered a second coin from the bottom of the bag, "That's not bad at all. Is that for one room or two? Does it include baths?" She paused and looked down at her clothing, "Are these going to stand out too much?"
"It's for one room. it includes a shower, and yes, they will stand out quite a lot."
Karyyk frowned and looked down at her clothes. "Well, I really don't have anything that's different from this besides my armor, and that'll probably stand out even more." She looked back up at Greg, "and I assume a 'shower' is some type of bath that only your strange people are familiar with...?"
"Something like that. We'll get you new clothing tomorrow." He checked the amount she put down, then looked at the innkeep expectantly.
"One room for the night?" the old woman clarified, clearly not listening for a response as she turned around and removed a key from a numbered peg on the wall behind her. She turned back to Greg and Karyyk carrying the key and a piece of paper. "Sign at the bottom, please."
Karyyk looked at the paper and looked to Greg. "Your language looks funny. It's like mine but someone messed up the spelling... I mean, not that there really ever was a right or a wrong way to spell things, mind you. Anyway, I think you should probably sign."
Gregory sighed and signed both their names to the register before holding out his hand for the key.
"We should probably address the whole language thing at some point," Karyyk muttered to Greg as the innkeeper exchanged the piece of paper for the key.
"Bring it back tomorrow by nightfall, if you please," the old woman said flatly, the lack of enthusiasm in her voice making her own exhaustion all too apparent. "Enjoy your stay, you'll be in room 23 -- up the stairs, take a left, and it'll be halfway down the hall, on your right."
"Only staying the night. Thank you." He scooped up the key and took Karyyk by the hand, leading her up the stairs. "Don't worry. Just take the language you're speaking and add about two-hundred years."
They arrived at the door and he opened it, stepping aside to let her through.
"That's not how language works..." she said, keeping her eyes on Greg as she moved into the room. As she turned to face the room before her, she found the layout to be strange, but not uncomfortably foreign. There was one large bed at the middle of one wall, a dresser at the foot of that bed along the opposite wall, a door just inside the room, which opened to a washroom of sorts, and a window on the far wall with curtains covering it.
"Where's the fireplace?" she asked as she set her pack down at the foot of the bed. Reaching out one hand, she felt the blankets. "What animal are these from? They feel woven, but they're soft like a fine fur. I've only felt something like it once before, when I was in Keno, but I never knew what it was. It's so much like Keno, here. I haven't seen stuff like this in years, and then there's even more."
"All right. To answer your questions in order, there is no fireplace. Buildings like this have a large furnace underground that heats water and pumps it through pipes in the wall." He pointed at the radiator. "As for what that is, it's called cotton. The fibers aren't from an animal, but a plant. The cotton plant. You should probably get out of your leathers if I'm going to show you how the shower works." Greg began removing his own clothing.
Karyyk blinked. "Uh, okay...? I mean, I was going to sit down for a second and look around, but sure. You're leading I guess." As she worked her way out of her leathers, the volley of questions continued: "Can't you just draw the bath and, you know, let it fill before worrying about this? This particular way of going about things seems like a good way to just get cold. Or maybe that's just customary here...?"
"I thought you were following my lead." Now entirely nude, he strolled into the washroom and adjusted the hot water dial until it was set to around three fourths, then pulled down on a handle to begin the spray, holding his hand under it to test the temperature. "It's ready."
Staring ahead at the falling water, Karyyk was silent for a brief pause. "I don't get it," she admitted finally.
Greg stepped under the spray and mimed washing himself, looking at her expectantly.
"What, you want me to get in there too? That's weird. People don't bathe together. Dirty water and the likes. And while we're on the subject of water," she gestured to the spray of water coming from above, "why? That can't possibly be enough to wash in."
He sighed, reached out, and pulled her into the shower without another word, taking a cloth from the wall and rubbing soap on it. Pushing her into the spray, he began scrubbing her back with the soapy cloth.
"You're weird. Have I ever told you that? You and your people are strange." She didn't say it, but she was enjoying the steady fall of warm water.
"Because sitting in a tub of your own filthy water is a great way to get clean." He worked over her shoulders, then down her arms, lathering then moving her in the spray to rinse.
"I mean, it's always worked for us." She snatched the cloth from him. "I can wash myself, you know. I'm a grown woman. I've been doing it for years."
"Excellent. That frees up my hands." He wrapped his arms around her, giving her a canny smirk before placing a kiss on the side of her neck and sliding his hands lower.
"You're incorrigible..." she sighed.
***
Karyyk woke the next morning to the brightest light she'd seen in days. "Gods above," she groaned, turning and hiding her face under the pillow. Pillow... Where...? Right, weird little town thing -- big town thing in... In the place on the other side of the mountains. With Greg. Gods, what am I doing? I mean, I'm getting out and seeing new things, but... But I need it. I can't deny it. I needed to do something different. I'm so not ready for this. Maybe he didn't hear me and I can pretend to sleep and mull things over for a while longer and--
Stretching and groaning, Greg pulled the blanket over their heads so it would shield them both from the morning light. "Mmmn. Good morning." He hugged her close and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.
So much for that.
"Morning. Haven't seen the light of the sun in ages." She paused, unsure of what to say next.
"A week, for goodness sake. Not so long."
"For a bat maybe," she scoffed.
"We have quite a day ahead of us, you know. A new wardrobe, then I have a surprise for you."
"Do I have to dress like you? The weird colors and everything? That's kind of a formal thing, isn't it? I mean, it is a nice outfit, the vest and all. Not very protective, but hey, new things, right?" She sat up in bed, keeping the covers over her chest. "What am I supposed to wear to the tailor's?"
"Wear your leathers there and he can take your measurements. We'll only likely buy you two dresses, some underthings, and a some petticoats, today, but you can get a hat and gloves as well, if you're inclined."
"Wai-wait," she said, holding her hands up in protest and confusion as she shook her head. "Dresses? Petticoats? What's the occasion??"
"Occasion? The occasion is having things to wear. I'm not sure I know what you mean."
"Why the frills and the dresses and stuff? That seems impractical for daily wear, don't you think? Why can't I wear pants and tunics and things like that? Last time I wore a dress was in Keno for that party thing. It was weird. I towered over everyone, especially in those odd shoes."
Gregory rolled out of bed and onto his feet, walking to the window. "Come here."
Taking the blankets with her, Karyyk followed him to the window. "What?"
He pulled the curtain aside slightly and pointed to the small crowds below, going about their morning business. The men were dressed more or less as he had been, only some more formally still. The women were, almost without exception, dressed in precisely what he'd just described purchasing for Karyyk. Most wore gloves, some carried shoulder bags, and others walked with parasols to shield them from the sunlight.
"Okay, but why? It seems so impractical!"
"We are a somewhat formal people. We enjoy looking good and dressing properly."
She sighed. "Fine. If it's what I need to wear to not be stared at, fine... But I won't like it." Karyyk moved toward her bag and began unpacking a fresh set of leathers she had packed for their arrival or if something happened to the other pair. "Let's just get this over with."
"You know, most of the women here find the fashion quite comfortable. The corset supports the lower back, making it easy to walk and sit with correct posture, and those dresses breathe much better than most men's clothing." He tried and failed to hide a slightly indignant tone.
"Like I said, I won't be happy about it, but I'll..." she sighed, "I'll get used to it. Let's just go before more people get outside and see me.
He grumbled a bit, feeling defensive, but pulled on his clothing with relative ease. Seeing that she'd also re-attired, Greg hastened them both out the door, dropping the key off at the front desk and and asking the day clerk for the nearest reputable tailor, indicating Karyyk and her attire.
The clerk, nodding his understanding, gave Greg an address and both he and Karyyk were soon away, moving down cobblestone walkways toward the opposite side of the plaza. The sign before them read, "Bernard & Sons: Fine Fashions, Accessories, and Bespoke. Alterations Made."
"Do I really have to get a dress?" Karyyk whined in disgusted protest?
"You were excited about it back in Torn." He intentially mispronounced it to needle her. "Did a casual stroll through some tunnels scar you so fundamentally that your basic preferences have shifted?"
"I said I liked getting dressed up for events. Wearing one every day seemskind of over the top," she explained. "Don't get me wrong. I love the idea of formal events and lovely dresses, but every day? How am I supposed to do anything?"
"Compared to Tork, every day here is a formal event. You see, it works like this. The clothing you wear in the street and for day-to-day activities is formal. When you're required or wish to do something for which normal formal clothing is impractical, you wear other formal clothing designed for that thing, whether it's hunting, riding, running, sport, climbing. Each has its own appropriate attire. Even combat."
"Stop butchering the name. It's Tor and you know it." She continued to grimace as he spoke, though her expression brightened when he mentioned riding and combat. "So you do have those things here!"
"Of course we do, just as in Torp."
Karyyk let out an exasperated groan and stormed ahead toward the shop.
Greg chuckled and followed.
As Greg and Karyyk walked through the shop door, a small bell rang and a young man apparently in his mid-thirties whisked around the counter from somewhere in a back room.
"Ah! Good day, good day! How do we do?" he sang. "My name is Micah Mayhew, I will be your master of frocks on this lovely day."
He reached out and shook Greg's hand and bowed to Karyyk before returning to a full stand and taking in both of their garbs. Micah gave an approving nod as he glanced over Gregory's attire, though when his eyes moved to Karyyk, he his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"Sir, will you be purchasing any fine attire for yourself today or are we to attend solely to your lady-friend here?"
"I'm afraid, my good man, much as I'd love to purchase a fine new suit this day, that you shall have to bring your full skill to bear on my compatriot. She is in need of two day dresses, petticoats, underthings, and a formal gown. Nothing too elaborate, mind. It should be somewhere between a visiting dress and an evening gown." Greg glanced back at Karyyk. "Hmn. And a longcoat, I think. something in an earth tone that will compliment her colouring."
"Shoes will be required. Please try to stick to flats if at all possible. She's tower enough with what was gods-given." His eyes scanned her again. "Gloves, two pairs, kid. One pair elbow-length, the other coming to mid-bicep... and actually, a third pair stopping at the wrist. Cream lace."
Taking a breath, he regarded the tailor. "Do you agree, or have I erred in some way? I trust you as a craftsman. I am an amateur at best when it comes to ladies' fashions."
"I believe I can find just what you need, dear sir," Micah said as he beckoned them to follow him. "Come, come. We shall get you fitted and into some lovely things, my lady. Given your graced height and fantastic physique, we will have to make some alterations to the standard garments, but that shouldn't take more than an hour or two altogether. We will move swiftly and have you on your way before lunchtime for certain."
Karyyk was caught in a bit of a daze. Words she hadn't heard in years and some which she had never heard before flew past her ears. She followed the seamster and awaited whatever fate lie ahead of her.
Micah gestured to a couple of plush chairs off to one side of the great fitting room in back. A stepstool stood in the middle of a workspace, and a fitting area lie off to one side, partly concealed behind a half-open curtain. Inside was a mirror and a chair.
"Sir, if you would care to take a seat there while we get to work. Demoiselle, if you would kindly step up on this bench, we can get your measurements and find some delicates to get you started while I find some dresses."
Hesitantly, she stepped onto the stool and waited.
"Arms out, dear," he said as he approached her with a tape measure and began finding several circumferences around her body. "I haven't fitted a lady of your altitude in some time. It will be quite the privilege to do so. All of the ladies I have met who even came close to your height have been of some importance." Micah chattered merrily as he worked. "Yes, I do trust you will like it here--" he ducked his head out from under one of her arms, "I trust you are from out of town, my dear, yes?"
Karyyk nodded, overwhelmed.
Micah continued his work. "Yes, I do say, you will greatly enjoy the city, or so I hope. It's a lovely place, and this gentleman friend of yours does seem to know his stuff, so I trust you will be in good hands."
He finished up taking measurements and began to wander off into another room of the shop. "Make yourself comfortable in the dressing room, luv, and relieve yourself of those leathers. I shall return shortly with something far finer and more suited to someone of your grace."
Once Micah had left the room, Karyyk turned to Greg, her eyes wide with confusion.
"Would you care to explain to me what is going on?"
"A transformation. One I hope will delight you. You have such a fine figure, Karyyk. I can see why Micah is so pleased to be working on you." He smiled and stood, taking her hand and planting a kiss atop it before resuming his seat.
Her face twisted in confused anxiety, but she took a deep breath and stepped back toward the dressing room. Turning and disappearing behind the curtain, Karyyk's voice drifted from the little room. "Greg, I don't think the coins I have are going to cover this. Is it really necessary?"
Greg reached out to the nearby table, coming back with a large bi-fold newspaper and leafing it open to the society pages. "We discussed this. I'm covering this. I swear, you're the only woman I know who would complain about having her beau buy her a new wardrobe." He gave a quiet cough to clear his throat, then turned the page, still scanning the paper.
A quiet groan came from behind the curtain. "I want to do something though. I'm not used to having someone provide for me like this."
Micah floated back into the room, his arms draped with countless garments. He set down the armful of dresses on a sewing bench before making his way over to the dressing room and knocking on the wall beside it.
"Alright, my dear -- oh! My goodness, where are my manners! I never got your names! Stars above, please excuse me. Dear, what is your name?"
"Karyyk..." she said quietly.
"Karyyk, what a fine name. I'm going to pass some items to you over the top of the curtain here. Try them on for size and let me know how they fit. Once we have that settled, I'm going to hand you a dress to slip into. It'll be a bit big, but that's alright. I'll have you come out here with it on and we can alter it to fit you."
Micah turned next to Greg and bowed deeply. "Forgive my rudeness, dear sir. I know I've seen your face before, or at least I could swear I have. Perhaps in the familiar visage of a dear friend of mine. Your name?"
"Goodness." He put down the paper and stood, removing a pair of stout reading glasses. Extending a hand, he made his introduction. "Professor Gregory Aloysius Ambrose, recently of Angrah University."
"A pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Professor Ambrose," Micah replied with a firm handshake. "I will be looking to you for feedback on the garments I have selected for Karyyk here."
He turned to speak over his shoulder: "How is the fit, my dear?"
"Good, I guess," she said. "I mean, I really don't know what to expect."
"Hmm," Micah ruminated. "One moment."
He called over his other shoulder, "Brialle! I know you're busy, but could you be a dear and come give my client a hand? She seems to be having some trouble with her ladieswear."
"Coming!" echoed a small voice from the side room. A quick-paced click clicking of heels pattered into the room and skittered to a stop. The young woman, a few years apparently the youth of Micah, stood in the doorway between rooms, her petite form was dressed in a pink frock and small pincushion hat. "Yes?"
Micah gestured to the fitting room, "Assist Miss Karyyk, if you please."
Gregory, positioning himself to resume his seat, paused and gave Brialle an appreciative look, taking in her outfit and general composure. With practiced grace, he took her hand and gave a slight bow above it in the gesture of an implied kiss. "Charmed, mademoiselle."
Brialle blushed and giggled before scurrying off to help Karyyk. She knocked on the wall beside the room. "May I come in, Miss?"
"I suppose, yes," Karyyk replied hesitantly.
Brialle swept the curtain aside just enough to let her pass through. "Alright, my dearie, what seems to be the problem here?" She looked Karyyk up and down with a smile. "You may have to crouch down a bit for me."
She did a full 360 check of Karyyk's current attire. "We could take in a couple of places if you really want, but these clothes are supposed to be relatively loose, darling."
Calling out to Micah, Brialle stuck her head out of the curtains, holding them close around her for privacy. "Could you be a doll and fetch me a corset for the lady, please? She's going to need assistance with it one way or another and we might as well get it done while I'm here."
"Of course," he responded, taking off once again into the side room, only to reappear moments later with a couple of corsets, one in each hand. "I'm not sure which one will be more comfortable, but have her try a full and an underbust. She measures like she hasn't been in one before so, please darling, do be gentle," and he handed the garments to Brialle.
Turning back to Karyyk, she held the two up. "Let's see if we can get you into the full corset first, and if not, we'll start with the other one. It's not customary, but one cannot rush a good fit." She twirled a finger. "Turn around, please."
Karyyk did as she was told, and Brialle laced up the full corset, pulling it tight. "How is that?"
"Tight-" she squeaked. "Is it supposed to be that tight?"
"Tight where, dear?"
"Everywhere, especially on top."
"Hmm... I suppose I can make it a bit looser, but if it's tight on top..." Brialle loosened the corset and swapped it out for the underbust. "Let's try this." She laced it up. "Better?"
"I guess...?" Karyyk said, this time with a bit more ease. "Am I supposed to not be able to breathe?"
Brialle laughed, "Oh, pumpkin! Yes, it's supposed to be a little tight, but if you feel yourself getting faint, that's what salts are for." She stepped back to take a look at the fit. Cupping her own breasts from below she asked Karyyk, "how's the fit through here? Any pinching?"
"No, ma'am," she replied, her cheeks feeling hot.
"Well, if there's no pinching, I would say it looks like a good fit!"
"But the breathing... And how am I supposed to get this on myself?"
Greg called into the booth from outside. "Breathe from your chest, not from your belly."
Brialle gave a nod of agreement in the direction of Greg's voice. "You would likely have assistance putting them on. That is the idea, unless you're quite stronger and more flexible than I! We can set you up. Now, for the next step." she took Karyyk by the hand. "Micah, I believe we're ready for the first dress."
"Ah, excellent!" came a chirp and a clap from the other side of the curtain from the ladies. "I'll pass it over presently. We'll start with the one that the Professor here believes she will prefer for regular use. Petticoats first!" Micah passed a set of white frilled linen skirts over the rail, "And here comes the dress. The accoutrements can be taken care of later. We need to get the fit right first."
"Indeed, indeed!" Brialle cooed as she took the garments. She hung the dress and accompanying overcoat on a hook on the wall and helped Karyyk into the petticoats. "Oh, these colors will go so well with your complexion and lovely hair, my dear."
Karyyk stepped into the pieces one-by-one. "This... petticoat? is a bit loose around the hips, don't you think?" she asked, holding a loop of the fabric in one hand to bring it in to her hip."
"Ah! So it is! One moment. Step out, please?" Brialle helped her out of the petticoat and disappeared to the other side of the curtain. Within minutes, she was back again. "Alright, try this," she said as she held the skirt out to Karyyk.
Buttoning it around her waist, she found the fit to be perfect. "That's... Yes, that's comfortable, thank you. Was there another one back there somewhere that was my size?"
Brialle giggled, "oh heaven's no. We don't generally keep stock in such long sizes, my dear. I altered it."
Karyyk's eyes grew briefly wide. "You altered it? But you weren't gone for more than a minute or two!"
"Some might say I have a certain gift, luv," she said with a wink as she produced a white blouse and a dress from the hanger behind her. "Blouse next, then the skirt." She let Karyyk don the blouse before presenting her with the deep brown, almost black skirt. "Alright, lets go out to see Micah."
As they stepped out of the dressing room, Karyyk felt decidedly embarrassed by the odd clothes. She shot Greg a worried look but continued walking toward Micah, who gestured for her to step up on the stool.
Gregory looked up from his newspaper and paused, eyeing her up and down appreciatively.
"Looks like it fits fairly well," he said as he began circling her, cinching fabric and inserting pins here and there. "Yes, yes... I think what I'll do is I will have Brialle help you out of this so you don't stick yourself with any of the pins, she can pass it to me, and I'll alter these items while you try on the next dress."
"Um, okay. Yes, sure. Please," Karyyk stumbled.
Micah clasped his hands excitedly, "Fan-tastic! Brialle, let's make a switch," he said, handing her a blue and white striped dress.
Brialle nodded with a small grin on her face and hustled Karyyk back into the fitting room, where she helped the tall woman out of the pinned clothing, passing it over the curtain rod as she did. Once the blouse and skirt were off, Karyyk began to step out of the petticoat.
"Oh, no, dear. You'll keep that on. We'll get you another one later, but we already have your measurements for this one, so it will just be quicker to keep it on and alter another one afterward. Here," she handed her the blouse for the next outfit, "If you please."
After several minutes of fussing, the two of them emerged from the fitting room once again and Karyyk returned to the stool to be circled and pinned by Micah once more.
"Good, good. I have the last one all fixed up and we'll do the same with this one. The last dress is the formal one -- quite a fine choice, might I add," he said, nodding to Greg as he passed the deep red silk dress over to Brialle. "I'm confident I have the fit right on this one. Oh!" he exclaimed with a hop as he spun around and produced another petticoat and a cage-like contraption. "You'll likely want the hoops for that."
With a nod, Brialle accepted the new garments and back into the fitting room they vanished. "Your husband certainly seems to have a fine eye for clothing, my dear."
Karyyk made a small hiccuping sound. "Oh, he's not my-- We're not-- I'm not--" she faltered.
Brialle gasped quietly, "Oh, I'm so sorry. My apologies, Miss. -- Right! Miss. Goodness, I'm so foolish sometimes. Please, forgive my assumptions." A brief, awkward silence fell over the fitting room as Brialle hurried Karyyk out of the blue dress and presented her with the hoops and petticoat.
She stared at the hoop skirt for a moment. "What do I do with this...?"
"It's a skirt, luv. You--" she sighed, "I'll help you into it."
"Thank you," Karyyk replied bashfully.
"If you don't mind me asking, where are you from?" she chattered as she fastened the skirt around Karyyk.
"The, uh, the other side of the mountains, actually."
Brialle chuckled, "That's an interesting way to put it. You're from Yom, then, around the other side of the city, past the outcropping of the mountains?"
Karyyk shook her head. "No, I mean actually from the other side of the mountains. I'm from Parth."
"Hmm," she pondered, "I don't think I know where that is."
She tried to take a deep breath in, in preparation for a groan, but the corset cut her off after about a normal-sized breath. Instead, Karyyk settled for glaring at the blank wall before her. "Oh, yes. It was a dangerous hike through the Teeth, bringing me nearly to my death seven times at the foaming mouths of wild animals and the bitter cold," she explained sarcastically. "The journey surely isn't for the faint of heart. I highly doubt you've been there before, ma'am," she concluded, her tone flat.
"Well... I do suppose it would explain your curious accent -- welcome!" Brialle helped Karyyk into the formal gown. It settled perfectly onto her tall frame. "Well, now isn't that lovely! Let's show you off -- Micah, grab us some gloves if you're there!"
Moments later, a pair of silk gloves to compliment the dress appeared over the top of the curtain rod. Brialle helped Karyyk don them and whisked her out of the dressing room. "I present to you, the lovely Miss Karyyk!"
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Karyyk stepped out into the room, feeling somewhat out of place in the formal attire, yet radiantly proud. She knew she looked lovely, and somewhere, though she wasn't sure where from, confidence flowed through her. She smiled the most natural radiant smile Greg had ever seen, locking eyes with him.
"Professor," she purred, coquettishly.
Karyyk was rewarded with an actual double-take as Greg looked up from his paper, glanced back down, then looked back up at her with wide eyes. The hunger in them was unmistakable to everybody in the room, even Karyyk, and he failed to suppress a quiet growl. "It looks.. very well indeed, Miss Karyyk. Very well." The grip on his newspaper tightened as he tried and failed to tear his eyes away from her gaze.
A wicked little smirk played across her face.
While the peculiar couple exchanged uncomfortably personal looks, the tailors stood idly by, trying not to notice. Micah simply turned around and regarded items on his sewing bench for a moment, while Brialle ducked back into the dressing room to "retrieve" a forgotten item.
Once the tailors had returned, Karyyk turned her eyes away from Greg and regarded the tailors. "I believe this one will do just fine, thank you. An impeccable fit if I may say so, Micah. I'm impressed." She smiled pleasantly before switching her attention to Brialle. "Can we switch me back into the first number I tried on?"
Brialle seemed distracted, but nodded jerkily when addressed. "Oh, yes. Of course. Let me just retrieve it." She moved hurriedly as the lustful tension in the air between Karyyk and Greg slowly dispelled. "Here we are," she said, swiftly leading Karyyk into the dressing room. "I have an overcoat for you, as well as a pair of boots."
After a few minutes, Karyyk re-emerged from the little room dressed in a simple everyday outfit.
"Are we ready then?" she asked, giving a small, only slightly awkward twirl.
Something about being in nice gowns brings out an interesting sort of confidence in me. Huh. Maybe I can get used to this place after all.
As the initial surge of attraction passed and Karyyk came out in her walking coat, Greg seemed to beam at her with a peculiar sort of pride, sidling up to her and offering his arm, then taking her hand and placing it on the proffered arm in the customary fashion. "Well? Miss Brialle? Mister Mayhew? Are we a portrait, or aren't we?"
"Oh yes, sir," the two said in near-unison.
Micah spoke next, "Shall I get you some bags for the garments the lady will not be wearing home today, Professor?"
"Along with an additional bag for those leathers, if you please." He smiled at the pair and produced a checkbook from within his waistcoat.
"Um, actually..." Karyyk began, "We can just, ah... We really don't need to keep those." She blushed faintly.
"Darling, you needn't discard your past to embrace your future. It isn't as though you've gads of personal belongings. Why don't we hang onto them for a little while and you can make that decision when you aren't caught up in the joy of new dresses, eh?"
She sighed, "I suppose you're right."
Gregory wrote up a check for the garments, including a generous tip for the two who assisted, and placed it on the counter with a smile. His script was flowing and clear, the hand of somebody who'd studied calligraphic writing. "There you are."
Brielle handled the check to make notes in the ledger. She looked up over the tops of her reading spectacles, "Professor, I believe you may have-"
Micah placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Gramercy, kind sir," he said to Gregory with a bow.
Brialle stood for a moment, regarding the check with a bemused expression. Micah moved off with the slip of paper to place it in a strong box. With Mayhew thusly distracted, and Karyyk eyeing the parcels with delight, Gregory took to opportunity to give Miss Brialle a light pinch on the bottom and chew his lip at her. Shooting a wink her way before picking up the pastel packages of clothing, he indicated the door to Karyyk, being that his arms were now full.
Brialle jumped and gave a little squeak, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. Her cheeks burned a bright red and she pulled the brim of her hat down to cover her face.
Karyyk heard Brialle chirp and looked up from the parcels in time to see Greg making eyes at her. As the two of them walked to the door, Karyyk rolled her eyes and lightly hip-checked him, just enough to make him stumble slightly.
"Oops."
She opened the door and they made their way back out into the main square.
Greg grinned up a Karyyk, lightly pressing his hip to hers and twining her arm in his. He stood a little taller, evidently quite pleased to be seen with her, and lead her toward a ticket counter. "Two for University Square, if you please."
"Where are we going?" she whispered to Greg.
In response, Greg simply grinned up at her and accepted the tickets, gently guiding her to a boarding ramp. The ship it lead up to had the appearance of a schooner, with a few major differences. In this particular case, several sails, looking like large canvas reproductions of a lady's fan, protruded from port and starboard.
Karyyk gawped, taking in the ship with wide and curious eyes. "What is this thing?"
"Don't worry about it. This way." Greg lead her to the bow of the ship, still grinning from ear to ear.
"Aren't boats supposed to go on water?" She turned and watched the people milling about the deck.
Karyyk's companion was silent, looking out over the crowd then peering back as the final few passengers boarded. His hand tightened on hers in anticipation.
Staring up at the night sky and taking in a deep breath of fresh air, Karyyk felt a wave of relief wash over her. Looking around, she could see what looked like a small town in the not-too-far-off distance, and on the horizon, there was a great glow that filled the sky.
"Where are we...?" she asked with childlike caution. Excitement played at the edges of her voice.
"It's the village nearest the city. It has a very silly name." He bumped up against her and nuzzled her shoulder. "I think we should camp for the night. I don't want to overwhelm you all at once."
"Doesn't the town have a tavern or an inn?"
"Baby steps."
"But we're so close... Can't we just--"
"I would have thought you'd want to sleep under a big night sky after our harrowing sojourn." Greg spoke the final two words in a facetious tone.
"I'm too excited to sleep," she said, almost bouncing with barely-contained eagerness to explore. She began to walk toward the town, still looking around with wide eyes.
Greg shrugged and started taking out his kit. "That's fine. I suppose I'll catch up to you tomorrow."
She stopped in her tracks and turned on one heel and stared back into the night at Greg. "Why...?" she moused. "That's mean... I just want to see things and you want me to stay here." She walked back and took one of his arms in her hand and started pulling in the direction of the village. "Can I at least go look?"
"Ngh. Fine." He tossed the things back into his pack and allowed himself to get dragged along.
Karyyk barreled forth at a speed that had Greg skidding along on his heels behind her as he was pulled onward. At such a clip, the village came up quickly. She came to a halt at the edge of town and hid behind some trees. The streets of the central plaza were empty save for the warm glow of the streetlights and a single street sweeper with his broom.
"Now what?" she whispered to Greg as she admired the buildings from behind the branches. "The buildings are so big," she gawped, "but your city is a little smaller than you made it sound. I don't see any airships, either."
"Sure, let's go with that for now. Welcome to Angrah City. Let's find an inn for the night and tomorrow I'll shatter your illusions." He took her hand and pulled her in the direction of the town square. "I think the inn is called The Pig & Whistle or something like that." The square was lit by the occasional crystal street lamp as they made their way to the hanging sign for the aforesaid.
Reaching around to turn her pack to the front of her body, Karyyk fished through it for the coins Greg had placed on the counter back at Wygo's Tavern. "How much does a room cost?" she asked, pulling one of the coins out of the bottom of a pocket.
"One or two of those, typically. Likely only one, out here."
"Oh," she said as she recovered a second coin from the bottom of the bag, "That's not bad at all. Is that for one room or two? Does it include baths?" She paused and looked down at her clothing, "Are these going to stand out too much?"
"It's for one room. it includes a shower, and yes, they will stand out quite a lot."
Karyyk frowned and looked down at her clothes. "Well, I really don't have anything that's different from this besides my armor, and that'll probably stand out even more." She looked back up at Greg, "and I assume a 'shower' is some type of bath that only your strange people are familiar with...?"
"Something like that. We'll get you new clothing tomorrow." He checked the amount she put down, then looked at the innkeep expectantly.
"One room for the night?" the old woman clarified, clearly not listening for a response as she turned around and removed a key from a numbered peg on the wall behind her. She turned back to Greg and Karyyk carrying the key and a piece of paper. "Sign at the bottom, please."
Karyyk looked at the paper and looked to Greg. "Your language looks funny. It's like mine but someone messed up the spelling... I mean, not that there really ever was a right or a wrong way to spell things, mind you. Anyway, I think you should probably sign."
Gregory sighed and signed both their names to the register before holding out his hand for the key.
"We should probably address the whole language thing at some point," Karyyk muttered to Greg as the innkeeper exchanged the piece of paper for the key.
"Bring it back tomorrow by nightfall, if you please," the old woman said flatly, the lack of enthusiasm in her voice making her own exhaustion all too apparent. "Enjoy your stay, you'll be in room 23 -- up the stairs, take a left, and it'll be halfway down the hall, on your right."
"Only staying the night. Thank you." He scooped up the key and took Karyyk by the hand, leading her up the stairs. "Don't worry. Just take the language you're speaking and add about two-hundred years."
They arrived at the door and he opened it, stepping aside to let her through.
"That's not how language works..." she said, keeping her eyes on Greg as she moved into the room. As she turned to face the room before her, she found the layout to be strange, but not uncomfortably foreign. There was one large bed at the middle of one wall, a dresser at the foot of that bed along the opposite wall, a door just inside the room, which opened to a washroom of sorts, and a window on the far wall with curtains covering it.
"Where's the fireplace?" she asked as she set her pack down at the foot of the bed. Reaching out one hand, she felt the blankets. "What animal are these from? They feel woven, but they're soft like a fine fur. I've only felt something like it once before, when I was in Keno, but I never knew what it was. It's so much like Keno, here. I haven't seen stuff like this in years, and then there's even more."
"All right. To answer your questions in order, there is no fireplace. Buildings like this have a large furnace underground that heats water and pumps it through pipes in the wall." He pointed at the radiator. "As for what that is, it's called cotton. The fibers aren't from an animal, but a plant. The cotton plant. You should probably get out of your leathers if I'm going to show you how the shower works." Greg began removing his own clothing.
Karyyk blinked. "Uh, okay...? I mean, I was going to sit down for a second and look around, but sure. You're leading I guess." As she worked her way out of her leathers, the volley of questions continued: "Can't you just draw the bath and, you know, let it fill before worrying about this? This particular way of going about things seems like a good way to just get cold. Or maybe that's just customary here...?"
"I thought you were following my lead." Now entirely nude, he strolled into the washroom and adjusted the hot water dial until it was set to around three fourths, then pulled down on a handle to begin the spray, holding his hand under it to test the temperature. "It's ready."
Staring ahead at the falling water, Karyyk was silent for a brief pause. "I don't get it," she admitted finally.
Greg stepped under the spray and mimed washing himself, looking at her expectantly.
"What, you want me to get in there too? That's weird. People don't bathe together. Dirty water and the likes. And while we're on the subject of water," she gestured to the spray of water coming from above, "why? That can't possibly be enough to wash in."
He sighed, reached out, and pulled her into the shower without another word, taking a cloth from the wall and rubbing soap on it. Pushing her into the spray, he began scrubbing her back with the soapy cloth.
"You're weird. Have I ever told you that? You and your people are strange." She didn't say it, but she was enjoying the steady fall of warm water.
"Because sitting in a tub of your own filthy water is a great way to get clean." He worked over her shoulders, then down her arms, lathering then moving her in the spray to rinse.
"I mean, it's always worked for us." She snatched the cloth from him. "I can wash myself, you know. I'm a grown woman. I've been doing it for years."
"Excellent. That frees up my hands." He wrapped his arms around her, giving her a canny smirk before placing a kiss on the side of her neck and sliding his hands lower.
"You're incorrigible..." she sighed.
***
Karyyk woke the next morning to the brightest light she'd seen in days. "Gods above," she groaned, turning and hiding her face under the pillow. Pillow... Where...? Right, weird little town thing -- big town thing in... In the place on the other side of the mountains. With Greg. Gods, what am I doing? I mean, I'm getting out and seeing new things, but... But I need it. I can't deny it. I needed to do something different. I'm so not ready for this. Maybe he didn't hear me and I can pretend to sleep and mull things over for a while longer and--
Stretching and groaning, Greg pulled the blanket over their heads so it would shield them both from the morning light. "Mmmn. Good morning." He hugged her close and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.
So much for that.
"Morning. Haven't seen the light of the sun in ages." She paused, unsure of what to say next.
"A week, for goodness sake. Not so long."
"For a bat maybe," she scoffed.
"We have quite a day ahead of us, you know. A new wardrobe, then I have a surprise for you."
"Do I have to dress like you? The weird colors and everything? That's kind of a formal thing, isn't it? I mean, it is a nice outfit, the vest and all. Not very protective, but hey, new things, right?" She sat up in bed, keeping the covers over her chest. "What am I supposed to wear to the tailor's?"
"Wear your leathers there and he can take your measurements. We'll only likely buy you two dresses, some underthings, and a some petticoats, today, but you can get a hat and gloves as well, if you're inclined."
"Wai-wait," she said, holding her hands up in protest and confusion as she shook her head. "Dresses? Petticoats? What's the occasion??"
"Occasion? The occasion is having things to wear. I'm not sure I know what you mean."
"Why the frills and the dresses and stuff? That seems impractical for daily wear, don't you think? Why can't I wear pants and tunics and things like that? Last time I wore a dress was in Keno for that party thing. It was weird. I towered over everyone, especially in those odd shoes."
Gregory rolled out of bed and onto his feet, walking to the window. "Come here."
Taking the blankets with her, Karyyk followed him to the window. "What?"
He pulled the curtain aside slightly and pointed to the small crowds below, going about their morning business. The men were dressed more or less as he had been, only some more formally still. The women were, almost without exception, dressed in precisely what he'd just described purchasing for Karyyk. Most wore gloves, some carried shoulder bags, and others walked with parasols to shield them from the sunlight.
"Okay, but why? It seems so impractical!"
"We are a somewhat formal people. We enjoy looking good and dressing properly."
She sighed. "Fine. If it's what I need to wear to not be stared at, fine... But I won't like it." Karyyk moved toward her bag and began unpacking a fresh set of leathers she had packed for their arrival or if something happened to the other pair. "Let's just get this over with."
"You know, most of the women here find the fashion quite comfortable. The corset supports the lower back, making it easy to walk and sit with correct posture, and those dresses breathe much better than most men's clothing." He tried and failed to hide a slightly indignant tone.
"Like I said, I won't be happy about it, but I'll..." she sighed, "I'll get used to it. Let's just go before more people get outside and see me.
He grumbled a bit, feeling defensive, but pulled on his clothing with relative ease. Seeing that she'd also re-attired, Greg hastened them both out the door, dropping the key off at the front desk and and asking the day clerk for the nearest reputable tailor, indicating Karyyk and her attire.
The clerk, nodding his understanding, gave Greg an address and both he and Karyyk were soon away, moving down cobblestone walkways toward the opposite side of the plaza. The sign before them read, "Bernard & Sons: Fine Fashions, Accessories, and Bespoke. Alterations Made."
"Do I really have to get a dress?" Karyyk whined in disgusted protest?
"You were excited about it back in Torn." He intentially mispronounced it to needle her. "Did a casual stroll through some tunnels scar you so fundamentally that your basic preferences have shifted?"
"I said I liked getting dressed up for events. Wearing one every day seemskind of over the top," she explained. "Don't get me wrong. I love the idea of formal events and lovely dresses, but every day? How am I supposed to do anything?"
"Compared to Tork, every day here is a formal event. You see, it works like this. The clothing you wear in the street and for day-to-day activities is formal. When you're required or wish to do something for which normal formal clothing is impractical, you wear other formal clothing designed for that thing, whether it's hunting, riding, running, sport, climbing. Each has its own appropriate attire. Even combat."
"Stop butchering the name. It's Tor and you know it." She continued to grimace as he spoke, though her expression brightened when he mentioned riding and combat. "So you do have those things here!"
"Of course we do, just as in Torp."
Karyyk let out an exasperated groan and stormed ahead toward the shop.
Greg chuckled and followed.
As Greg and Karyyk walked through the shop door, a small bell rang and a young man apparently in his mid-thirties whisked around the counter from somewhere in a back room.
"Ah! Good day, good day! How do we do?" he sang. "My name is Micah Mayhew, I will be your master of frocks on this lovely day."
He reached out and shook Greg's hand and bowed to Karyyk before returning to a full stand and taking in both of their garbs. Micah gave an approving nod as he glanced over Gregory's attire, though when his eyes moved to Karyyk, he his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"Sir, will you be purchasing any fine attire for yourself today or are we to attend solely to your lady-friend here?"
"I'm afraid, my good man, much as I'd love to purchase a fine new suit this day, that you shall have to bring your full skill to bear on my compatriot. She is in need of two day dresses, petticoats, underthings, and a formal gown. Nothing too elaborate, mind. It should be somewhere between a visiting dress and an evening gown." Greg glanced back at Karyyk. "Hmn. And a longcoat, I think. something in an earth tone that will compliment her colouring."
"Shoes will be required. Please try to stick to flats if at all possible. She's tower enough with what was gods-given." His eyes scanned her again. "Gloves, two pairs, kid. One pair elbow-length, the other coming to mid-bicep... and actually, a third pair stopping at the wrist. Cream lace."
Taking a breath, he regarded the tailor. "Do you agree, or have I erred in some way? I trust you as a craftsman. I am an amateur at best when it comes to ladies' fashions."
"I believe I can find just what you need, dear sir," Micah said as he beckoned them to follow him. "Come, come. We shall get you fitted and into some lovely things, my lady. Given your graced height and fantastic physique, we will have to make some alterations to the standard garments, but that shouldn't take more than an hour or two altogether. We will move swiftly and have you on your way before lunchtime for certain."
Karyyk was caught in a bit of a daze. Words she hadn't heard in years and some which she had never heard before flew past her ears. She followed the seamster and awaited whatever fate lie ahead of her.
Micah gestured to a couple of plush chairs off to one side of the great fitting room in back. A stepstool stood in the middle of a workspace, and a fitting area lie off to one side, partly concealed behind a half-open curtain. Inside was a mirror and a chair.
"Sir, if you would care to take a seat there while we get to work. Demoiselle, if you would kindly step up on this bench, we can get your measurements and find some delicates to get you started while I find some dresses."
Hesitantly, she stepped onto the stool and waited.
"Arms out, dear," he said as he approached her with a tape measure and began finding several circumferences around her body. "I haven't fitted a lady of your altitude in some time. It will be quite the privilege to do so. All of the ladies I have met who even came close to your height have been of some importance." Micah chattered merrily as he worked. "Yes, I do trust you will like it here--" he ducked his head out from under one of her arms, "I trust you are from out of town, my dear, yes?"
Karyyk nodded, overwhelmed.
Micah continued his work. "Yes, I do say, you will greatly enjoy the city, or so I hope. It's a lovely place, and this gentleman friend of yours does seem to know his stuff, so I trust you will be in good hands."
He finished up taking measurements and began to wander off into another room of the shop. "Make yourself comfortable in the dressing room, luv, and relieve yourself of those leathers. I shall return shortly with something far finer and more suited to someone of your grace."
Once Micah had left the room, Karyyk turned to Greg, her eyes wide with confusion.
"Would you care to explain to me what is going on?"
"A transformation. One I hope will delight you. You have such a fine figure, Karyyk. I can see why Micah is so pleased to be working on you." He smiled and stood, taking her hand and planting a kiss atop it before resuming his seat.
Her face twisted in confused anxiety, but she took a deep breath and stepped back toward the dressing room. Turning and disappearing behind the curtain, Karyyk's voice drifted from the little room. "Greg, I don't think the coins I have are going to cover this. Is it really necessary?"
Greg reached out to the nearby table, coming back with a large bi-fold newspaper and leafing it open to the society pages. "We discussed this. I'm covering this. I swear, you're the only woman I know who would complain about having her beau buy her a new wardrobe." He gave a quiet cough to clear his throat, then turned the page, still scanning the paper.
A quiet groan came from behind the curtain. "I want to do something though. I'm not used to having someone provide for me like this."
Micah floated back into the room, his arms draped with countless garments. He set down the armful of dresses on a sewing bench before making his way over to the dressing room and knocking on the wall beside it.
"Alright, my dear -- oh! My goodness, where are my manners! I never got your names! Stars above, please excuse me. Dear, what is your name?"
"Karyyk..." she said quietly.
"Karyyk, what a fine name. I'm going to pass some items to you over the top of the curtain here. Try them on for size and let me know how they fit. Once we have that settled, I'm going to hand you a dress to slip into. It'll be a bit big, but that's alright. I'll have you come out here with it on and we can alter it to fit you."
Micah turned next to Greg and bowed deeply. "Forgive my rudeness, dear sir. I know I've seen your face before, or at least I could swear I have. Perhaps in the familiar visage of a dear friend of mine. Your name?"
"Goodness." He put down the paper and stood, removing a pair of stout reading glasses. Extending a hand, he made his introduction. "Professor Gregory Aloysius Ambrose, recently of Angrah University."
"A pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Professor Ambrose," Micah replied with a firm handshake. "I will be looking to you for feedback on the garments I have selected for Karyyk here."
He turned to speak over his shoulder: "How is the fit, my dear?"
"Good, I guess," she said. "I mean, I really don't know what to expect."
"Hmm," Micah ruminated. "One moment."
He called over his other shoulder, "Brialle! I know you're busy, but could you be a dear and come give my client a hand? She seems to be having some trouble with her ladieswear."
"Coming!" echoed a small voice from the side room. A quick-paced click clicking of heels pattered into the room and skittered to a stop. The young woman, a few years apparently the youth of Micah, stood in the doorway between rooms, her petite form was dressed in a pink frock and small pincushion hat. "Yes?"
Micah gestured to the fitting room, "Assist Miss Karyyk, if you please."
Gregory, positioning himself to resume his seat, paused and gave Brialle an appreciative look, taking in her outfit and general composure. With practiced grace, he took her hand and gave a slight bow above it in the gesture of an implied kiss. "Charmed, mademoiselle."
Brialle blushed and giggled before scurrying off to help Karyyk. She knocked on the wall beside the room. "May I come in, Miss?"
"I suppose, yes," Karyyk replied hesitantly.
Brialle swept the curtain aside just enough to let her pass through. "Alright, my dearie, what seems to be the problem here?" She looked Karyyk up and down with a smile. "You may have to crouch down a bit for me."
She did a full 360 check of Karyyk's current attire. "We could take in a couple of places if you really want, but these clothes are supposed to be relatively loose, darling."
Calling out to Micah, Brialle stuck her head out of the curtains, holding them close around her for privacy. "Could you be a doll and fetch me a corset for the lady, please? She's going to need assistance with it one way or another and we might as well get it done while I'm here."
"Of course," he responded, taking off once again into the side room, only to reappear moments later with a couple of corsets, one in each hand. "I'm not sure which one will be more comfortable, but have her try a full and an underbust. She measures like she hasn't been in one before so, please darling, do be gentle," and he handed the garments to Brialle.
Turning back to Karyyk, she held the two up. "Let's see if we can get you into the full corset first, and if not, we'll start with the other one. It's not customary, but one cannot rush a good fit." She twirled a finger. "Turn around, please."
Karyyk did as she was told, and Brialle laced up the full corset, pulling it tight. "How is that?"
"Tight-" she squeaked. "Is it supposed to be that tight?"
"Tight where, dear?"
"Everywhere, especially on top."
"Hmm... I suppose I can make it a bit looser, but if it's tight on top..." Brialle loosened the corset and swapped it out for the underbust. "Let's try this." She laced it up. "Better?"
"I guess...?" Karyyk said, this time with a bit more ease. "Am I supposed to not be able to breathe?"
Brialle laughed, "Oh, pumpkin! Yes, it's supposed to be a little tight, but if you feel yourself getting faint, that's what salts are for." She stepped back to take a look at the fit. Cupping her own breasts from below she asked Karyyk, "how's the fit through here? Any pinching?"
"No, ma'am," she replied, her cheeks feeling hot.
"Well, if there's no pinching, I would say it looks like a good fit!"
"But the breathing... And how am I supposed to get this on myself?"
Greg called into the booth from outside. "Breathe from your chest, not from your belly."
Brialle gave a nod of agreement in the direction of Greg's voice. "You would likely have assistance putting them on. That is the idea, unless you're quite stronger and more flexible than I! We can set you up. Now, for the next step." she took Karyyk by the hand. "Micah, I believe we're ready for the first dress."
"Ah, excellent!" came a chirp and a clap from the other side of the curtain from the ladies. "I'll pass it over presently. We'll start with the one that the Professor here believes she will prefer for regular use. Petticoats first!" Micah passed a set of white frilled linen skirts over the rail, "And here comes the dress. The accoutrements can be taken care of later. We need to get the fit right first."
"Indeed, indeed!" Brialle cooed as she took the garments. She hung the dress and accompanying overcoat on a hook on the wall and helped Karyyk into the petticoats. "Oh, these colors will go so well with your complexion and lovely hair, my dear."
Karyyk stepped into the pieces one-by-one. "This... petticoat? is a bit loose around the hips, don't you think?" she asked, holding a loop of the fabric in one hand to bring it in to her hip."
"Ah! So it is! One moment. Step out, please?" Brialle helped her out of the petticoat and disappeared to the other side of the curtain. Within minutes, she was back again. "Alright, try this," she said as she held the skirt out to Karyyk.
Buttoning it around her waist, she found the fit to be perfect. "That's... Yes, that's comfortable, thank you. Was there another one back there somewhere that was my size?"
Brialle giggled, "oh heaven's no. We don't generally keep stock in such long sizes, my dear. I altered it."
Karyyk's eyes grew briefly wide. "You altered it? But you weren't gone for more than a minute or two!"
"Some might say I have a certain gift, luv," she said with a wink as she produced a white blouse and a dress from the hanger behind her. "Blouse next, then the skirt." She let Karyyk don the blouse before presenting her with the deep brown, almost black skirt. "Alright, lets go out to see Micah."
As they stepped out of the dressing room, Karyyk felt decidedly embarrassed by the odd clothes. She shot Greg a worried look but continued walking toward Micah, who gestured for her to step up on the stool.
Gregory looked up from his newspaper and paused, eyeing her up and down appreciatively.
"Looks like it fits fairly well," he said as he began circling her, cinching fabric and inserting pins here and there. "Yes, yes... I think what I'll do is I will have Brialle help you out of this so you don't stick yourself with any of the pins, she can pass it to me, and I'll alter these items while you try on the next dress."
"Um, okay. Yes, sure. Please," Karyyk stumbled.
Micah clasped his hands excitedly, "Fan-tastic! Brialle, let's make a switch," he said, handing her a blue and white striped dress.
Brialle nodded with a small grin on her face and hustled Karyyk back into the fitting room, where she helped the tall woman out of the pinned clothing, passing it over the curtain rod as she did. Once the blouse and skirt were off, Karyyk began to step out of the petticoat.
"Oh, no, dear. You'll keep that on. We'll get you another one later, but we already have your measurements for this one, so it will just be quicker to keep it on and alter another one afterward. Here," she handed her the blouse for the next outfit, "If you please."
After several minutes of fussing, the two of them emerged from the fitting room once again and Karyyk returned to the stool to be circled and pinned by Micah once more.
"Good, good. I have the last one all fixed up and we'll do the same with this one. The last dress is the formal one -- quite a fine choice, might I add," he said, nodding to Greg as he passed the deep red silk dress over to Brialle. "I'm confident I have the fit right on this one. Oh!" he exclaimed with a hop as he spun around and produced another petticoat and a cage-like contraption. "You'll likely want the hoops for that."
With a nod, Brialle accepted the new garments and back into the fitting room they vanished. "Your husband certainly seems to have a fine eye for clothing, my dear."
Karyyk made a small hiccuping sound. "Oh, he's not my-- We're not-- I'm not--" she faltered.
Brialle gasped quietly, "Oh, I'm so sorry. My apologies, Miss. -- Right! Miss. Goodness, I'm so foolish sometimes. Please, forgive my assumptions." A brief, awkward silence fell over the fitting room as Brialle hurried Karyyk out of the blue dress and presented her with the hoops and petticoat.
She stared at the hoop skirt for a moment. "What do I do with this...?"
"It's a skirt, luv. You--" she sighed, "I'll help you into it."
"Thank you," Karyyk replied bashfully.
"If you don't mind me asking, where are you from?" she chattered as she fastened the skirt around Karyyk.
"The, uh, the other side of the mountains, actually."
Brialle chuckled, "That's an interesting way to put it. You're from Yom, then, around the other side of the city, past the outcropping of the mountains?"
Karyyk shook her head. "No, I mean actually from the other side of the mountains. I'm from Parth."
"Hmm," she pondered, "I don't think I know where that is."
She tried to take a deep breath in, in preparation for a groan, but the corset cut her off after about a normal-sized breath. Instead, Karyyk settled for glaring at the blank wall before her. "Oh, yes. It was a dangerous hike through the Teeth, bringing me nearly to my death seven times at the foaming mouths of wild animals and the bitter cold," she explained sarcastically. "The journey surely isn't for the faint of heart. I highly doubt you've been there before, ma'am," she concluded, her tone flat.
"Well... I do suppose it would explain your curious accent -- welcome!" Brialle helped Karyyk into the formal gown. It settled perfectly onto her tall frame. "Well, now isn't that lovely! Let's show you off -- Micah, grab us some gloves if you're there!"
Moments later, a pair of silk gloves to compliment the dress appeared over the top of the curtain rod. Brialle helped Karyyk don them and whisked her out of the dressing room. "I present to you, the lovely Miss Karyyk!"
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Karyyk stepped out into the room, feeling somewhat out of place in the formal attire, yet radiantly proud. She knew she looked lovely, and somewhere, though she wasn't sure where from, confidence flowed through her. She smiled the most natural radiant smile Greg had ever seen, locking eyes with him.
"Professor," she purred, coquettishly.
Karyyk was rewarded with an actual double-take as Greg looked up from his paper, glanced back down, then looked back up at her with wide eyes. The hunger in them was unmistakable to everybody in the room, even Karyyk, and he failed to suppress a quiet growl. "It looks.. very well indeed, Miss Karyyk. Very well." The grip on his newspaper tightened as he tried and failed to tear his eyes away from her gaze.
A wicked little smirk played across her face.
While the peculiar couple exchanged uncomfortably personal looks, the tailors stood idly by, trying not to notice. Micah simply turned around and regarded items on his sewing bench for a moment, while Brialle ducked back into the dressing room to "retrieve" a forgotten item.
Once the tailors had returned, Karyyk turned her eyes away from Greg and regarded the tailors. "I believe this one will do just fine, thank you. An impeccable fit if I may say so, Micah. I'm impressed." She smiled pleasantly before switching her attention to Brialle. "Can we switch me back into the first number I tried on?"
Brialle seemed distracted, but nodded jerkily when addressed. "Oh, yes. Of course. Let me just retrieve it." She moved hurriedly as the lustful tension in the air between Karyyk and Greg slowly dispelled. "Here we are," she said, swiftly leading Karyyk into the dressing room. "I have an overcoat for you, as well as a pair of boots."
After a few minutes, Karyyk re-emerged from the little room dressed in a simple everyday outfit.
"Are we ready then?" she asked, giving a small, only slightly awkward twirl.
Something about being in nice gowns brings out an interesting sort of confidence in me. Huh. Maybe I can get used to this place after all.
As the initial surge of attraction passed and Karyyk came out in her walking coat, Greg seemed to beam at her with a peculiar sort of pride, sidling up to her and offering his arm, then taking her hand and placing it on the proffered arm in the customary fashion. "Well? Miss Brialle? Mister Mayhew? Are we a portrait, or aren't we?"
"Oh yes, sir," the two said in near-unison.
Micah spoke next, "Shall I get you some bags for the garments the lady will not be wearing home today, Professor?"
"Along with an additional bag for those leathers, if you please." He smiled at the pair and produced a checkbook from within his waistcoat.
"Um, actually..." Karyyk began, "We can just, ah... We really don't need to keep those." She blushed faintly.
"Darling, you needn't discard your past to embrace your future. It isn't as though you've gads of personal belongings. Why don't we hang onto them for a little while and you can make that decision when you aren't caught up in the joy of new dresses, eh?"
She sighed, "I suppose you're right."
Gregory wrote up a check for the garments, including a generous tip for the two who assisted, and placed it on the counter with a smile. His script was flowing and clear, the hand of somebody who'd studied calligraphic writing. "There you are."
Brielle handled the check to make notes in the ledger. She looked up over the tops of her reading spectacles, "Professor, I believe you may have-"
Micah placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Gramercy, kind sir," he said to Gregory with a bow.
Brialle stood for a moment, regarding the check with a bemused expression. Micah moved off with the slip of paper to place it in a strong box. With Mayhew thusly distracted, and Karyyk eyeing the parcels with delight, Gregory took to opportunity to give Miss Brialle a light pinch on the bottom and chew his lip at her. Shooting a wink her way before picking up the pastel packages of clothing, he indicated the door to Karyyk, being that his arms were now full.
Brialle jumped and gave a little squeak, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. Her cheeks burned a bright red and she pulled the brim of her hat down to cover her face.
Karyyk heard Brialle chirp and looked up from the parcels in time to see Greg making eyes at her. As the two of them walked to the door, Karyyk rolled her eyes and lightly hip-checked him, just enough to make him stumble slightly.
"Oops."
She opened the door and they made their way back out into the main square.
Greg grinned up a Karyyk, lightly pressing his hip to hers and twining her arm in his. He stood a little taller, evidently quite pleased to be seen with her, and lead her toward a ticket counter. "Two for University Square, if you please."
"Where are we going?" she whispered to Greg.
In response, Greg simply grinned up at her and accepted the tickets, gently guiding her to a boarding ramp. The ship it lead up to had the appearance of a schooner, with a few major differences. In this particular case, several sails, looking like large canvas reproductions of a lady's fan, protruded from port and starboard.
Karyyk gawped, taking in the ship with wide and curious eyes. "What is this thing?"
"Don't worry about it. This way." Greg lead her to the bow of the ship, still grinning from ear to ear.
"Aren't boats supposed to go on water?" She turned and watched the people milling about the deck.
Karyyk's companion was silent, looking out over the crowd then peering back as the final few passengers boarded. His hand tightened on hers in anticipation.
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