Peony Min (blackmagicks) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-04-12 14:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, !plot: founders festival, peony min, sayuri akiyama |
Who: Peony & Sayuri
What: Makeover time Sayuri buys Peony a dress
Where: A shop somewhere!
When: Backdated to yesterday!
Rating: Tame
Status: Complete!
Perhaps Peony ought to have expected this to occur when the subject of conversation over tea earlier that day had slowly shifted to the Founders’ Festival. The ball had come up eventually as an event that Sayuri seemed quite excited to attend. Peony hadn’t had the heart to tell her she only attended it as a formality -- instead, when the topic of gowns had arisen, she had been able to say, placidly, that she did in fact have something picked out for the final night of the festival, which she would be wearing to the event in question. Unfortunately, having seen the gown (perfectly appropriate to Peony’s admittedly inexpert eyes), Sayuri had very politely but also very insistently suggested a shopping trip after tea, and thus, here they were, in a dressing room full of chiffon and silk and lace, and Peony was exercising her admittedly impressive patience in allowing herself to be used as a sort of living mannequin as Sayuri searched for a dress which would serve as an adequate replacement for the one hanging in Peony’s closet. “None of these?” she asked mildly, draping the fifth dress she had tried on back on its hanger. Sayuri had almost been offended by what Peony had showed her and claimed was her dress. Though, examining her friend’s daily wardrobe, she shouldn’t have been surprised. The thing might have been fashionable ten years ago, but it wasn’t outdated enough to be considered classic, only woefully stuffy and tacky - so Sayuri decided to take the reins on the situation. It was exactly why they were in the dressing of room of one of Emillion’s most fashionable establishments. Sayuri lounged on a plush chair, waiting patiently for Peony to come out in dresses both Sayuri and Peony had picked. There was a slowly growing pile of rejects, placed delicately on their hangers by Peony and then thrown carelessly to the side by Sayuri, that spoke of their success so far. Or lack thereof. “No, no, none of them work,” Sayuri said, waving her hand. It wasn’t that they were bad - Peony had been gifted with a lovely frame, so she did look nice - but they hadn’t made her drop her jaw yet. That was what was necessary if you were going to show up at the Founder’s Festival Ball. It only happened once a year. Her eyes slid to their waiting pile of options. She grabbed a dark blue number, avoiding the red she had slipped in - she had to work up to that. She handed it to Peony. “Try this one on.” Obediently, Peony took this dress, too, and retreated into the dressing room with it as she had now with so many others. They all seemed fine enough to her -- she could hardly tell the difference, except in texture of fabric and cut of skirt. At least they had bypassed the glittering, strapless gowns on prominent display at the front of the shop; not even for Sayuri would she contemplate one of those. They looked uncomfortable, for one -- and cold. This one, which she struggled for a few moments to zip, was somber in shade, though she supposed the small silver beads along the slightly curved neckline were meant to take the garment into elegance instead (then again, what did she really know?). She left the dressing room once more, adjusting the capped sleeves and doing the slow turn which had been asked of her half a dozen times by now. “The skirt is comfortable,” she said; for her, far more important than the aesthetic value of the gown. “I think it may be too thin, however. The evenings are still quite chilly.” Sayuri waved a hand. “No pain, no gain,” she proclaimed, “besides, there’s so many people in the hall, everyone’s sweating within fifteen minutes.” She paused, chin in hand. “The color looks really good on you,” she conceded. “You know, you could be so beautiful if you just took the time to make yourself look nice.” A sigh, coming from someone who took at least an hour to get ready to just go training - that’s what sweatproof cosmetics had been invented for, correct? “If you’re going to be at the ball, you might as well put in the effort to make some jaws drop. Here, try this one too,” she handed over a dress in a similar shade but metallic, with threads of silver making the fabric glimmer softly. She knew the neckline for this dipped a little lower, but maybe she could coax Peony into something a little more exciting. Dare to dream. “I prefer comfort,” Peony disagreed, “and I am rarely too warm, even in a crowded room. Still, perhaps with a shawl.” If it would make Sayuri happy, she supposed this dress was a small enough price to pay. She took the next dress, though privately, she doubted it would suit even as she stepped back into the dressing room to put it on. It seemed a bit… flashy for her taste. Generally, she filled her closet with light colors and pastels, but better somber than silver, surely. Though the dressing room door, she said, for what felt like the fiftieth time over the course of their friendship, “I see little use for physical beauty; it does not aid me in completing my daily tasks, and I can usually find other uses for my time.” She was clean and tidy -- her appearance did not draw gazes but it did not repel them, either. Really, what else was needed? The zipper finally zipped, she stepped out in the next selection, though this time, she did not perform the slow turn, only looked blandly down to where the tops of her breasts were visible in the dip of the neckline, far more daring than anything else she owned. “This one,” she said with the sort of calm certainty of a tree rooting into the ground, a hint to anyone who knew her that she was in this rare instance set on her decision and utterly immovable, “is not suitable for me.” “Oh, please,” Sayuri said, leaning forward with interest, “this looks amazing on you. Come on, showing a little skin doesn’t make you a walking sex object.” She looked disappointed with Peony’s reaction - and she was, though it had more to do with her friend’s attitude than her own whims. It troubled her that someone who was clearly clever and intelligent was somehow rooted or tied to antiquated notions like someone’s stubborn old aunt. “Physical beauty isn’t everything,” Sayuri conceded, smiling, “but it’s fun. Don’t be a stiff and drop the act, putting a little effort isn’t going to ruin your boring reputation.” Really, Sayuri had more words to add - that acting like this certainly didn’t make her better than anyone and her reluctance to branch out was annoying the younger girl rather than endearing Peony to her - but she held her tongue for the moment, knowing Peony’s temperament from years of friendship. Still, she had to say her piece, even if she knew it was a moot point. “I am not comfortable in it,” Peony said simply. What it did or did not make her was largely irrelevant; she had no qualms if other women chose to wear revealing clothing, but it seemed not only wasted on her but somehow dishonest when she had no desire to attract anyone. “There is nothing wrong with beauty rituals if you enjoy them, but if I do not, I see no reason for them,” she pointed out. After a moment, she added, “I care very little about my reputation.” It was a byproduct of her actions -- those were what concerned her, but the reasons for her concern had very little to do with outside opinions. If her reputation was of someone boring, it was likely because she was indeed boring. It was not an adjective which displeased her (like many others, she was fairly indifferent to it). Then, just in case her refusal to purchase this dress had not been as clear as she’d thought, she prompted, “Is there another dress you would have me try?” Another sigh, and Sayuri stood up to her full height, towering over her older friend. “It’s just such a waste,” she said, perhaps a little more affected than she should have been. “You’re just so beautiful, you should really show it off. You know, flaunt it?” But she pulled back and pulled out another dress, this one lilac and probably more suited to Peony’s tastes, with long, tight sleeves of lace and an off-shoulder collar that showed skin - but nothing that dipped too low. “How about this one?” she said, holding it out, still looking at Peony in the dark dress with enormous regret in her eyes - silly, when it was just over a dress. “I feel no desire to flaunt anything,” Peony said with a small smile. “I would rather let my actions speak for me, I think. I prefer not to be at the center of attention. I’m sorry it distresses you,” she added. She examined the dress that was held out to her for a moment. Bare shoulders, she thought, but again, with a shawl… and it was a nice, pleasant color, the sort she preferred when given her own way -- unassuming, light, not too eye-catching. “Yes,” she said, “perhaps this one.” She took it back into the dressing room, taking her time hanging up the other, unsuitable gown before trying this one. The sleeves were not as relaxed as she might have liked, but that seemed a small concession to make, since her friend seemed to feel so strongly about it. It would be, she thought, a nice compromise. This time, when she left the dressing room, she did perform the turn as expected. “Your thoughts?” she asked. “I believe this color suits me better than red,” she added with a small, slightly amused smile. She had spotted the bright swatch under the pile of other items Sayuri had chosen, another garment certain to be denied. But if, perhaps, this one she wore now could be found acceptable to her friend's rather exacting taste, then they could finish before the subject of trying on the red dress came around at all. Sayuri’s smile was genuine, bright, and very approving. “Not bad, Peony,” she said, standing up to walk around her friend. As if to consider her from all sides, the same way someone might pick out a nice vase for their home. She wasn’t shy about how her eyes swept over Peony’s frame. “I always kind of think pastel colors are kind of gauche on gowns, but this isn’t terrible. It does actually kind of suit you.” It did, she honestly thought so. The lavender was a soft, cool shade, which would normally wash out someone as pale as Peony, but she looked delicate. Like a spring flower. Still, she had been dying to see Peony try on the red number, if only so she could say she had put it on… But the point had been to replace the ugly thing that was hanging in Peony’s closet, not amuse herself. Well, okay, maybe it had been partially for the latter reason. Either way, Sayuri was rather pleased that Peony had at least found a dress she liked. “Let me pay for it,” she said, meaning, let me put it on my family’s tab, which she was wont to do - almost carelessly, in all honesty. But that was Sayuri for you. Peony thought privately that she was probably often a little gauche when it came to formalwear, but saying so would only distress Sayuri, who seemed to believe this was a serious sin to be corrected. Best to smile and agree to the compromise. “I think ‘not bad’ is acceptable,” she said, returning to the dressing room and beginning the process of getting out of the dress as she continued speaking through the door. “If you are certain you wish to pay, thank you for the gift, but please do not feel obligated.” “Nonsense,” Sayuri said, waving it off. In all honesty, she would probably get scolded for it later - she certainly was no noble, though the Akiyamas did more than just well for themselves - but she would deal with that when it came up. Instead, she waited for Peony to come out, changed. She accepted the dress, laying it over her arm, and grinned at her companion as they made their way to the counter to pay, her mind already buzzing with the next item on her mission list. “Now, what are your plans for your hair? I was thinking we could do a low chignon...” |