Dragons Folly (Brea x neobendium )

Marisol was so content. It was....frustrating. The old woman could look at the pain, at the suffering her people put others through, and still manage to hum and look outside with a smile? Zariah couldn't help but feel indignant at that, though she tried to remember things from the woman's point of view.

There was no point in being resentful- she was saving that for Richard.

The woman procured a towel from the closet, and as she did so, the man in question called impatiently from the hallway. She could practically see his expression in the tone of voice he was using, and she sunk down into the murky water even further until Marisol returned with the towel.

It was thick and fluffy and white, and Zariah took it quickly, quietly thankful that the servant was looking away this time. The dragon girl stepped from the tub and wrapped the towel around herself, shivering slightly as the outside air hit her. She was wearing it almost like a toga, with her fists balled in the corners and her nose pressed into the cloth.

Then Marisol returned with clothes. She knew she would be expected to wear whatever Richard deemed fitting, but the humans' outfits were impractical and frustrating, and she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose a bit at the dress that the servant brought. It was a simpler thing, slave garb, really, a simple light blue dress with a leather belt along the waist. The simple nature of the thing wasn't the thing that upset her, though- her own clothes were much wilder than that- rather, it was the skirt, and, most prominent...the shoes.

Zariah had never worn shoes a day in her life, and she glared at them when the woman brought them with all the hatred anyone could muster toward an inanimate object. Still, she reached out after a moment to take the outfit, dark eyes examining the dress as if it were a great mystery.
 
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Color Ref: C97507
Marisol: FF81BC


For a moment Marisol watched Zariah examine the clothes. The dress used to belong to her eldest daughter, before she moved away to marry a man down in town. Now, her daughter's figure was so different, due to multiple pregnancies, that Marisol knew she'd never be able to wear it again. So, she felt just fine giving it to Zariah. She was curious to see how it would clash with the dragon girl's hair, anyhow.

"Come out once you're dressed," she instructed the young girl before turning and walking out of the room. As she exited she came face to face with Richard, who was now standing impatiently. She could tell by his expression that he was growing antsy, as he always did whenever he had to wait around. "How extensive would you like me to be?" Marisol questioned him.

"I want her to look as human as possible," Richard answered. "Waxed, hair fixed up, perhaps something done about those finger nails of her's." He thought back to how much they had bothered him on the wait here, all the dirt underneath them. It was just gross to look at, and he couldn't fathom how she could justify touching anything with filthy hands like that. To be fair, though, he hadn't really given her a chance to clean up until now.

"I better get my waxing strips then," Marisol said, turning to head to her cupboard. She kept homemade waxing strips on hand, which came in more handy a few years ago when her girls were still in the house than they did now. Still, she was glad she had some ready to go. She also grabbed a nail file, a pair of scissors and a brush while she was there. She placed all of her items in a woven basket before returning to the prince.

As Marisol approached Richard he impatiently called out to Zariah, "Finished?" He was only going to give her so long before he went in there to check on her. Or, maybe he'd just drag her out by her leash, to teach her a lesson about wasting so much time. He hadn't decided yet.
 
Zariah stared down at the dress, a sick, twisting feeling entering her gut. Everything here was so foreign, and it didn't help that she had no choices in, well...anything. Everything she did was scrutinized, every move guarded, and her culture was being stripped away.

Finally, though, deciding that taking too long would lead to something more embarrassing than that, she started to dress. The only problem was her wings. The dress was made for a human, and she wasn't about to stuff her wings in the fabric. So, using the only tool she had on hand (her teeth), the dragon girl tore strips out of the back of the dress before wriggling her way into it. It was made doubly difficult by the rope around her neck, and she half considered trying to untie it before deciding against it. Finally, though, she had wrestled her half-dry body into the cursed clothing. It fit her well, or at least as well human clothes could on someone with wings. The light turquoise color stood out with her hair, but not quite in a bad way.

The whole time, she listened to the quiet conversation going on outside, and her scowl deepened with every word. It wasn't like she could do anything about it, but...

Richard called impatiently just as she stepped out of the bathroom. Her hair was still wet and slightly messy, and the shoulders of the dress were wet here and there from the drips from the red strands. Her feet were still bare, and she held the shoes back out to Marisol, steadily avoiding Richard's gaze as she spoke. "They're too small," she mumbled, prompting the woman to take them.

The dress did look nice on her, though...at least, if one could look past the clear discomfort and the fact that the back had been torn a bit to accommodate for her wings.
 
3d30ab17d0c9797bf7d2b9de690a08a5.jpg


Color Ref: C97507
Marisol: FF81BC


For a moment Richard stood and studied Zariah. The dress looked nice enough- nicer than her own attire, anyway. But Marisol lacked a pair of shoes big enough for the dragon girl, leaving her barefoot still. And, as Richard began to circle around Zariah, the rips in the back of her dress became more apparent. His solution to this problem had been the same, but now that he was seeing it in person he knew that cutting slits into the back of all of her dresses simply wouldn't do. It made her look too beastly.

"I'll have to get my tailor to work on some clothing for you," He concluded out loud, his deep voice cutting through the silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Richard saw Marisol nod her head in agreement. It dawned on him that this dress had been somewhat special to her at some point, was she upset seeing what the dragon girl has done to it?

Shaking his head, he decided that it didn't really matter. If nothing else, it would help the all-too-kind old lady to see Zariah for the monster that she is. "Thank you for your time, Marisol, I think we will be on our way now," Richard added after a few more moments of silence.

"No stew?" Marisol questioned.

"No, actually, I don't think I'm in the mood. But thank you," Richard said as he looped Zariah's leash around his hand a few times. Giving it a gentle pull, Richard led Zariah out of Marisol's little hut. He continued over to Bentley, where he fastened his end of her rope to the saddle before climbing on. With one last small wave to Marisol, who saw them off from her doorstep, Richard started them back in the direction of the castle.
 
Zariah, despite knowing that was to come was probably worse than what would have happened if they stayed, couldn't help but deflate in relief that they were leaving the kindly widow's house. Richard had forgotten about waxing, it seemed, and she hoped that his attitude toward shoes would be just as lenient.

He would likely remember before too long, but she wasn't about to remind him.

They started making their way back to the castle once more, the pain in her heart growing steadily with every step she took away from her old outfit. She would never see it again, she knew- it had been bloodstained and worn beyond repair, no doubt- but it still hurt. Now, instead of the loose, tunic-like shirt and baggy, knee-length trousers, she'd been forced into a long skirt that tangled her ankles when she walked and a tight belt that strangled her stomach. How was one supposed to live in this sort of thing?

Scowling slightly, she kicked at the skirt while she walked, moving it out of her way with every step in hopes of keeping herself from tripping over it. Clearly, she didn't know what to do with herself in it, and she looked very, very out of place in such a garment- her tattoos, clearly visible just under the short sleeves of the dress, only helped add to that.

She just didn't look...right, and even an outsider would agree that she didn't look quite so impressive as she had when she was in her tribal clothing and covered in dirt.

"Where are we going now?" she asked after a long few minutes of silence, avoiding Richard's gaze and instead staring up at the sky opposite him, seeming to gauge how long it would take to fly away.