Elisabet did see the difference. The sight of her bare arms made her hair stand up. Surely Felicia would hand her one of the jackets to cover that up...right?
Oh how that color blinds her eyes. It glared at her, blared at her so loudly. How could she walk around looking like that? Perhaps in that aspect alone, Elisabet was concerned of what other people would think, but not because she did not want to be jeered, but because she would be doing that piece of...what was that...Rose...Hemming...(even the name sounded so far and important!) clothing sheer injustice. She did not want to attract attention and that outfit would beg for it.
For some reason, Felicia was not aghast over it as she should be. Shouldn't she be laughing now?
Elisabet's clipped nails pierced her palm as she let Felicia zip the dress. Felicia had such a different point of view of clothes. Wasn't fighting ability the proper extension to one self? After all, she was taught primarily to deal with monsters, not fellow human beings. She had it so much easier then.
"But..." Elisabet said in a tiny squeak that probably only insects could hear, "It's okay....it doesn't matter..."
Elisabet faced the mirror--the mirror that was only there for her to check if she braided her hair right, if she had anything on her face, or if she did the tie properly, and for no other reasons.
What she saw confused her. She did not know what to think of it. It was herself, wearing a dress...that belonged to other people. It seemed like stealing, it seemed so wrong. And yet Felicia was giving her support. Felicia who was very pretty, very popular, very critical...
The throat of her reflection went down in a prominent gulp. Her thick lips puckered out in worry.
“Not half-bad, is it? You read poetry, right? Then you read all the shit people write about beauty, right? So why would you want to run away from looking pretty? It’s absurd.”
If Elisabet would be poetry, it would probably be a grotesque one.
"I'm not..." She shook her head fervently, continuing to fail to produce anything else intelligible verbally, "It's....It's different..."
Then Felicia asked the question. The eyes on Elisabet's reflection grew into saucers. Her head turned to Felicia in a snap. She had to say something, even as to stammer, before it's too late, "N-no..." She held her hands out, "It-It's...really...okay Felicia. You don't--"