The Dressmaker

The Dressmaker.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the door to my studio closed for the final time.  I was done  Finished.  At last.  All the girl's dresses were measured, adjusted and fitted, and off with their respective new owners.  All the men's tuxes the same.  Though making adjustments for EmeraldNight's dragonic wings had taxed even my design skills.

All the same I was pleased with my efforts.  Most of my clients had been humans though, like Jillian, our local witch.  Even though they had no familiar animal attributes, I had no idea they came in such a range of shapes and sizes.  From my point of view, many of them appeared to be utter giants.  But I hoped... Oh how I hoped, that it was my designs and not the strange creatures wearing them, that would be the talk of the Prom.

I lifted my spectacles off my snout and rubbed at my tired eyes.  I put the glasses on the workbench in front of me.  The place where I created my designs.  I felt tired.  Drained.  I really shouldn't have gone to soccer practice before finishing the designs.  But how could I let the team down?  As much as anyone else, they were counting on me.

I was so tired.  Even my tail was starting to droop.  Next thing you know it'd be dragging in the dirt, and it was such a pain to work the dirt out of the scales.  So tired, the thought repeated itself.  Surely a little nap couldn't hurt.  Even if my own dress wasn't quite finished, I still had several hours before the Prom.  I crossed my arms on the bench in front of me, and was asleep almost before my head came to rest on them.

I awoke in darkness, suddenly panicked.  What times was it!  What day was it!  Was I too late?  Had I slept through the entire prom.  The most important social event of the year!  I scrabbled desperately for the light switch, finally finding it and flicking it on.  I directed a fearful look at the clock.  Six-Thirty.  Six-Thirty!  Only half an hour before the Prom was to begin.

I turned mournfully to my own prom dress sitting unfinished on the mannequin in the corner.  I had been so busy with everyone else's clothing that I hadn't even finished my own.  I clenched my fists in frustration, and screwed up my eyes tightly.  “It's not fair!”, I screamed, stamping my foot in a tantrum, not realising I'd actually voiced the thought out-loud.  I clenched my fists so tightly the nails bit into the tough, leathery skin of my palms.  I felt my bottom lip quiver, and then came the tears.  Tears of anger and frustration that came out in howling sobs.

…
..
.


I almost didn't hear the door go.  Alycia, the red-haired schoolgirl stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable.
“You didn't honestly think we'd do this without you, did you?”, she asked in a tone that was too surprised to be truly comforting.  

Other figures moved in the doorway behind her.  My eyes are pretty sharp, I picked them out.  Bantyr.  Jack.  Cleo.  William.  EmeraldNight.  Vipera.  Shavanna.  Giovanni.  Stella.  Scarlet.  Henore.  Shina.  Even Ren, who had somehow already rumpled his tux almost beyond recognition.  Each and every one of them had come to make sure I was all right.

The tears really did flow now.  But no longer tears of anger and frustration.  As the girls crowded into the room to comfort me, Bantyr; a king or duke or something in his own country, started issuing orders.  He had a strong, commanding presence and a deep, strongly accented voice.  But against the assembled ranks of womanhood, neither did him the slightest bit of good.  He and the other men were relegated to another room whilst the women took charge.

Shavanna, a water mage, dried my tears with a single touch, and then filled a bowl with water from the very air, for me to wash with.  Cleo, after a couple of false starts, summoned fire to warm the water, and to heat the curling tongs that Stella produced from her handbag.  Before going back to stand at the door, threatening physical violence on any man that dared try enter before I was presentable.

Whilst I washed away the marks of any tears, Alycia helped me wash my hair.  I heard her comment wistfully about it's blue colour.  I didn't understand.  How could anyone with hair like flame wish for something drab like my azure blue locks.  As she curled it with Stella's tongs, Vipera and Shavanna set about applying make-up.  After an argument over what would actually suit me, of course.  I wasn't allowed a say.  I wasn't allowed to do anything.  I had to sit absolutely still while everyone preened and primped me.

I'd never felt so useless.  I'd never felt so cherished.  I felt happy.  Distraught.  Loved.  Appreciated.  Embarrassed.  All at the same time.  I felt like I wanted to cry again.  But happy, happy tears.

And then, suddenly, they were done.  I turned and looked in the mirror.  And what I saw nearly took my breath away.  Every flaw, of which there were many, was neatly covered.  For all the make-up they applied it looked for all the world like they had barely dusted my skin.  The scales of my forehead glittered gently with gold sparkles and liner applied around my eyes made them almost jump out at you.  Grabbing your attention and holding it fiercely.  And gentle blue curls framed it softly.  If only for tonight, I was... I was beautiful.

I didn't dare cry, although the tears threatened again.  How could I dare spoil their artistry.

“But... but what will I wear?”, I whispered.  “My dress isn't finished.  I don't have time to fix it”.
Stella stepped away from the door with a mysterious smile on her face.  As I looked past her, six women carrying sewing boxes were on their way out of the door.  The last bowed to Bantyr as she left.  “As you command, my lord.  Exactly as the design”.  Her accent was so thick I barely understood the words.

And then Jack was there.  Handsome, beautiful Jack.  And my dress.  My masterpiece.  My finished dress.  Was in his hands.
“Ali-rella”, he said with his usual casual, understated, charm.  “You shall go to the ball”.