Don’t blame me for this one… this is all Yva‘s fault. And yes, there will probably be a bit more to this story. If nothing else, this is a study in putting your character in a situation WAY outside their comfort zone. Also, for what it’s worth, when I say “smallclothes” I mean something like a sports bra and a pair of capri-length sweatpants.
Aelflaed stood in front of the small mirror in her apartment, peering at the woman in her smallclothes that peered back. An unusual occurrence, to be sure, given that most days she barely glanced at it to make sure that she’d gotten all her hair in her braid, that her shirt wasn’t on backwards, and that she wasn’t wearing any of her breakfast.
Carefully untying the leather cord that held her hair, she slowly unwound her braid, using her fingers to work out the largest of the snarls.
Rain Boleyn’s voice echoed in her head.
She looked at her hands. They were clean, and her nails were short – mostly in good shape, but the one purple one looked somewhat unfortunate. Well, th’ Zombie made owt worse frae tha’ affair… She had callouses, of course, but nothing too terrible looking. Her feet, on the other hand, were kind of a mess. Cracked toenails, callouses from her heavy boots, and one fading greenish-purple bruise from where someone had set a gurney on it.
She pulled on a pair of fuzzy wool socks.
Nail lacquer? And a lingerie fitting? A CORSET? Aely looked down at herself, trying to imagine wearing such a piece of equipment. Wearing specially made lingerie was foreign enough – but to do so just to “play dress up”? And nail lacquer just sounded ridiculous.
Next Tuesday would definitely be interesting.
… Oi, lass, ye’ve y’rself in a heap ay mess. Guess y’r goin’ t’ pub night like’at.
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