Two days later Biela demands me, in a very aggressive way may I add, to go see that damned seamstress.
"You think you can just walk around like some kind of an unwashed bandit. You are a part of the Court now and you will act the part," Biela says as she stares at me from above.
"I am not wearing some fancy dresses if that's what you mean. Your fashion doesn't suit my tastes."
Long story short, that's how I found myself in the seamstress' workroom. Biela literally pushes me in and slams the door behind me while I claw at them like an angry kitten and hiss.
When I finally make peace with my situation, I sigh and look around. Nobody is there. If I have to wait for her to appear more than five minutes I am honorably killing myself.
I see faint singing coming from another room and head that way. A Leptira pixie is flying and singing to herself, her mouth filled with pins and hands wrapped in silk. She has brown hair tied in a short ponytail on the back of her head, her wings fluttering as she flies around, moving from one doll to another, decorating them in fancy fabrics and silk.
"Hey?" I try to catch her attention.
She screams and the magic is broken - the pins drop on the floor, she gets tangled into the long strips of silk she was so carefully draping over the mannequins and drops down. I quickly catch her bridal style before she manages to hit the ground.
She looks at me surprised and blushes a bit before untangling herself and hopping off me.
"Oh my- I am so sorry, I didn't hear you enter! I just got- busy, as you can see!" She shows around the room.
'Creative mess' would be an understatement of century. It's more like a 'creative mayhem' or a 'disaster'. Luckily, I don't care about mess, and nobody's ever accused me of being a fussy-McFuss when it comes to cleanliness and order.
"Oh yeah, fuck, sorry too. Didn't mean to scare ya."
She fixes her hair and dress and smiles at me. "So, how can I help you?"
"Biela wants me to look more… presentable. We all know style is the most important of assassin's job. Skills with dagger and sword pale in comparison."
She chuckles. "The name is Vela." She bows a bit and flutters her wings. I do the same, forgetting about the guard etiquette that Allure was so intent on teaching me. Thankfully Vela doesn't seem to mind. After all, she is the queen of her little workshop. Besides, I immediately like her. She seems… non-pretentious. Unlike many fae here.
"Well style is still important." She immediately flies up and grabs the measuring tape. "Oh, I already have so many ideas! Something…"
"Practical," I cut her off. "I want to be able to move in it."
"Oh of course! Don't worry, I am a master of practicality."
One look at the half-decorated mannequins tells me that isn't true.
She starts fluttering around me and measuring me - my arms, my body, my legs. Usually it'd be annoying, but she has this cheery aura that delights me.
"So… for colours, I assume black, dark blue, something to fit in… But wouldn't it be more fitting to wear something bright, so you can assimilate into the court? Look less suspicious?"
"I am not wearing pink."
"Alright," she grabs the paper and the goose feather from her table. "And how many weapons do you plan on hiding?"
"…What?"
"Oh you know," she waves the feather around, "daggers, blades, needles… oh! A mace?!"
I blink. She seems thirsty for blood lust.
"I have these two blades and that's enough." I pat my two hooked blades that are hung at my waist. "I don't need any other weapons."
They were a gift, after all, and I don't plan to change them for any other weapon.
"And what's that?"
"It's a gift, Nyx. For you. Made of finest Kobold obsidian. They're unbreakable. Just like you."
"Well, fine, suit yourself. I added like twenty-five pockets for Vatra when she came to see me. Even I thought it was too much."
She flies to her desk and starts sketching. She works fast - it's miraculous to watch her, the way her feather glides over paper. Couple of minutes later she holds about ten different papers.
"Okay, let's now check which one would fit you the best…" She lifts the papers to the ceiling, getting a better look in the light that shines through huge windows of her work station. "Well, you do need at least two or three outfits."
"I need just one, actually."
"What? What will you wear when it gets dirty?"
"…I usually got by just fine." I'd just wash them and take a nice nap near the river or hot springs usually. I liked my clothes! They were practical and very tear-resistant, though they did have a few cuts and scraps.
"Oh that just won't do. You need something for day-to-day basis, at least two or three pieces, and something for fancy occasions…" She taps the feather against the desk.
"I don't plan to attend any 'fancy occasions'."
"I don't think that's up to you. There are dinners where everyone must be present. Oh, they even invite me!" She sounds so excited about those stupid balls and what not. I groan. That's going to be so annoying to live through.
Hours pass as she works, throwing fabric on me and cutting and draping them around me. I just patiently stand and wait.
"Oh this will go fantastic with your red eyes…" She sometimes throws in a comment.
I patiently stand and endure it as minutes roll by.
"So, what sign are you?" she asks as she deftly avoids stabbing me with all the pins shes using to keep fabric in place.
"…Sign?"
"Oh CELESTIA! You don't know?" she sounds shocked.
If she starts explaining astrology to me now I'm killing myself.