ιѕαвєℓα (rivaini) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-10-15 08:12:00 |
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Lina knew from the very start traditional bridal gowns were off the table. No shopping around expensive bridal boutiques or chains, not when it was something she was supposed to wear really only once, but she at least wanted something white-ish of sorts to set her apart from the crowd. So, technically, by that criteria alone, the search for some kind of dress that wasn’t exclusively bridal but was relatively nice for someone getting married couldn’t be that hard, right? Wrong. So wrong. Wrong like Donald Trump saying ‘wrong’ over and over on those piss-poor excuse presidential debates, for one thing. Just wrong, but this was what she got for telling her fiance that everything about this process had been easy thus far - she should have found something sooner and not been so caught up about picking the right food. It was a day of unsatisfying browsing and unsuccessful trips just about everywhere, and she didn’t know how the hell people shopped all day because it was one of the most exhausting things to ever do (oh god, her midget-feet huuurt), but that was why she’d brought someone who had some kind of flair for it. Mrs. Bela Hawke kept her sane. Her quips were funny, and was also very encouraging when the redhead decided to stop by a liquor store for a small bottle of golden rum to sip on while they journeyed through their quest of find Lina a fucking dress. The pirate queen and sorceress reached what was, hopefully, their final destination - The Hanger. A very boutique-like designer consignment shop, featuring new and gently used wares, some supposedly from the rich and famous after red carpet events. Fancy, but not pretentiously so. “If we don’t find anything here,” she groused after a sip of the glass bottle, right before passing it to her swashbuckling friend. Shots first before they went inside, it was the tradition of the day. “That’s it. Pete’s marrying me as I wear an inflatable T-Rex costume.” Maybe it was the rum talking, maybe not. Definitely the rum, and what a positive addition to this shopping trip it made! Bela had to commend that idea. Sipping on ambrosia that was sweet and subtle, with some lovely caramel components, really warmed her to the edges of her non-existent soul. “I’ve a good feeling about this one, love,” she promised as they went inside, and indeed she did. The Hanger. You were going to be the one - that tingly feeling was a connection to the shoppe, not just a buzz due to day drinking. She’d heard of this place - in order for your donated frocks to be accepted, there needed to be a first tier label. So Donna Karan was in, DKNY was out. And just look at all the Gucci handbags and the Chanel jackets! It was heaven, like meeting the well-dressed Maker himself and shaking his hand. “You did want white, I think you said?” she asked, and then turned to cut off a nosy saleslady at the pass. “We’ll call you if we need you, kitten, thanks.” A friendly brush-off on the surface, but watch out for thin ice there - no one was going to bother the bride-to-be with gushing and nonsense, not on Isabela’s watch. They’d get this done their way. Gucci. Chanel. Lina couldn’t tell the difference. All she knew about designer things were that they were expensive, highly sought after, and most of the time too ostentatious for a woman who preferred the leggings-and-tunic-and-boots combo of clothes that hailed from the land of Target. That, and the dry-cleaning bill for fashion was as pricy as the clothing themselves - she knew from experience when it came to her lover’s tastes of suits. “White, white-ish,” she shrugged. Ivory, technically? Although she wasn’t totally against the idea of actual color if she liked the dress enough. As they entered she tucked the bottle back into her purse to avoid the annoyance of judgmental stares (though if her patience was tested she’d tag-team with Bela on finishing the rest and being nuisances, just try it), and she went to sift through the closest rack of evening dresses. “Nothing that looks like a bunch of tulle or sequins threw up on it. Now I’m beginning to get why women give themselves months to find a dress, jesus christ.” Even if they weren’t exclusively bridal, but she guessed the idea behind it was just finding the dress that you’d be satisfied to see years to come in pictures, or something. “It’s a tough task, because you want something you can look back on in the photos and not question why you even put it on,” Isabela nodded, heading for a section that looked promising and beginning to rifle through the various frocks. “But the right one, it’ll just hit you. You’ll know.” She spoke from first hand experience, because Bela had chosen her own wedding outfit in a similar fashion - a day of shopping, nothing quite right yet, and then bam. A delicious little red number that clung to her so fantastically, it was like the dress was made only for her rather luscious curves. And Maker forbid Bela wear white either - no, she’d wanted to make a colourful splash for their Vegas photos. Examining a short, ivory, satin number with a sweetheart neckline, she gave a thoughtful hum. “Suppose we can narrow it down by style - you want something a-line, something with shimmering accents, or something lacy? I also think silver’s kind of a nice choice, or champagne-coloured. Looks like they’ve got a few cute flapper-style beaded frocks if that’s your thing.” Personally, due to Lina’s small stature, Isabela didn’t think a long and slinky number was right - something cute and short, fun and bold, just like her, was more appropriate. Really, she’d drown in something long or even remotely ball-gowny; most the time outfits weren’t meant for someone with such a vertical disadvantage. They’d end up too long, and she’d either trip on them or have to get it hemmed. There were small people and then there were small and short people, which sucked all around, and she was the latter. In the new set of dreams she was actually the smallest she’d ever been, measuring a whopping height of four feet and seven inches - it was fucking awful there and no wonder she was pissed all the goddamn time. Maybe she shouldn’t really complain about being five foot tall here and in the other two sets then. Short people problems. “I can do a-line,” Lina replied, mostly sure? At least she knew what that kind of dress looked like. “And I want something to that accentuates the boobs, y’know? Having a baby moved me up a cup-size, and that cleavage is going to come out and play. I just don’t want something obnoxious or flashy that’s got my armpits itching left and right.” Then there was also the topic of shoes. It was a park, she didn’t want something too pointy in regards to heels that’d just have her sink into the ground every time she walked - but she guessed she could tackle that part of the wedding ensemble once she found the dress. Easier to pair up with that already in hand. “Oh! By the waaaaaaaay…” Her outburst gleaned a look from the sales lady, startled, but her brief glare back could have been easily translated to eat my ass and mind your own business. Anyway, back to Bela. “Don’t tell your husband, but Amelia’s Halloween costume’s going to be a spider. We’re kinda hoping for photos where he’s teary-eyed and looks like he’s running from her.” “Ooooh!” Bela was already laughing, because how hilarious would that be? Poor Hawke, caught in the grips of a cold sweat and heart palpitations upon seeing a baby spider with her eight gangly legs. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she winked. “Both he and Trevelyan will shit themselves. They’re terrified of spiders, it’s nearly irrational.” Most fears were though, to some degree - even facing those fears, battling giant arachnids, hadn’t really allowed for much conquering. She knew Garrett still hated anything creepy crawly like that. “I’ll be glad to take as many blackmail photos as necessary though.” Finding two potentials, Isabela pulled them out and held them by their hangers, studying each a-line frock. “Start with this and this,” she advised, handing them both over. “They’re strapless so your newfound tits will fill out the top portion, see?” The material was nice too - the first felt soft, despite the shimmery metallic vibe it had going on. It was a little mean, almost - even she had a phobia (slugs) but spiders were more prevalent around these parts, especially the big ones. Under ground, from out of the sea and stepping on every goddamn Best Buy in Orange County existence, or if they were ‘benign’ in terms of carrying a gunslinger on their backs and crushing demons for the greater good. People who shuddered at the sight of them - Max and Hawke, for starters - were just so easy to poke at because of it. Pete also took some sinister glee in making his ‘favorite plonker’ sweat a little. “Strapless is going to make me think my spawn is going to find some kind of Herculean strength within her and pull out a boob,” Lina smirked (the things to look out for when a grabby baby was involved, seriously), but she’d try ‘em on - she’d been doing that a lot today, she might as well have been dressed in a bathrobe for all the unclothing she’d done today. The goldish one looked like it’d go well with the glow of the wedding’s decor, and she entrusted Bela with her bag (that had the rum in it). “By the way, we’re going to have some of your Thedosian mead at the wedding. Max has a shitload of drinks in that fortress of his, are you guys gonna try and recreate any of those for the Hanged Man?” Maybe when she and Pete spent their wedding night at Skyhold they could maybe taste some of that notorious dwarven ale. After the bed-splintering sex, that was - she didn’t want to blackout on her wedding night before the consummation happened. “Do this one too, it’s bloody adorable,” Isabela added, tossing the third lacy frock over the dressing room door. “No chance for your boobs to be pulled out but it’ll still show them off.” Then she waited outside, dutifully guarding Lina’s bag (and reaching in to grab the rum bottle - Andraste’s tits, it seemed like everything but the kitchen sink was in here) to take a quick nip of their libations. “I think Garrett talked to him about replicating some, yes!” she said, picking a chair that was velvety and plopping down into it. Seeing these dresses on Lina was going to be so much fun - maybe the roguish pirate looked like she was of a lower class (more so in the dreams, really, and Aveline never ceased to point it out) but she actually did enjoy swathing herself in finery sometimes. Like from fancy hat shoppes, for example. “The honey mead is delicious though, that’s a good call. Thedosian liquor in general is strong, but it’d have to be given the shit people deal with. I think we’ll try our hand at brewing mead and whiskey, probably blackberry brandy too. I know Trevelyan’s got some of that also.” That additional dress landed so kindly on her head. Today, officially, she was a redheaded Russian Barbie - saying she had tried at least twenty or more outfits today wasn’t actually an over exaggeration. At least Bela had patience but the rum was also purchased for that reason, aside from making the tedious process as numbing as possible. There were a couple dresses in here not returned to the racks, too (employees be a slackin’!), so that caught her somewhat exhausted curiosity. “Yeah, I figured it’d be a fuckton better than champagne, the bubbles in ‘em make me too burpy,” she admitted without much shame. Last thing she needed was getting caught belching on camera. “But one-of-a-kind alcohol you really can’t get anywhere else? It’s a sweet selling point. My parents have a knack for brewing their own booze - it’s vodka here, and in the dreams wine, if you want some advice. Just beware for the hints at swinging.” Well, if she and Hawke were into that sort of thing that’s fine, but she never wanted to know anything her parents did. Poprock hummers were enough. Behind the closed door she went to align the chosen dresses, trying to select one to try first until something caught her eye - lace, which she never wore much of, but it was a decent cut with a flared skirt. Ohhhh. And the potential for cleavage. Tunic and leggings hitting the ground, she managed to slip into that one without much fuss or yelling for Bela’s assistance in zipping (that had happened a couple times). The sleeves could serve as some warmth for what could be a chilly night, but the dress overall seemed charming without going too crazy or too plain. “Okay, uh - not one on the line, but? I think I’m actually digging this one.” Lina stepped out, pushing her modest boobs together because heeeeeeeeey, tits. It was doubtful an autumn night in California would actually be chilly, but not like those sleeves were made of polar bear fur or anything; ergo, they looked plenty suitable for a fall wedding. Isabela hummed, getting up to assess the way the dress looked from all angles. “Not bad,” and then came a whistle. “Probably best to just go for some pasties and not even bother with a bra, I’d say.” Especially the way the front was cut. But overall, she liked it - and if Lina liked it too, that was what mattered the most because it was her special day. She stuck her thumbs up in an enthusiastic bit of approval. “I bet we can find some cute shoes with a bit of colour to really put everything together - something sparkly, to go with that detail ‘round the waist. At least put the ivory goldish one on though, I want to see you in it!” Trying on tonnes of dresses was just par the course, and once the one was selected, Bela was going to advocate for celebratory food and drink too. Like cupcakes or something stupid that she never ate. It was a good length, too - the perfect amount of shortness for an already short woman, and the sleeves weren’t as stiff-feeling as she thought it be. Lina wanted to make sure she could move comfortably considering they’d be outdoors. Might be too early to guess but the fabric seemed to breathe well, and for once she looked actually satisfied. There was a light at the end of this shopping tunnel, jesus fuck. “Alright, just for you,” she smirked, disappearing off into the dressing room to undress, and dress again into the one with the gold embellishing. It was a nice one, too, and she didn’t have too many dresses of this type so why the hell not get it? Considering she wasn’t a splurger when it came to the art of shopping fashionably, but she was a fan of having ‘nice things.’ She spun around a little bit, a show for the pirate queen. “I’m betting you can provide much needed wisdom in the shoe department, too, something that won’t make me wish death on my toes out of mercy.” It’s not like she never wore heels, but usually after being an hour in them she felt like ripping them off her feet and walking around barefoot. Bela’s advice on the pasties thing was also sound. Lina let out a sigh, hands cocked onto her hips. “Thanks for letting me drag you along for this trip - I figured out of everyone I know you’d be the best to go shopping with. Considering your wedding wasn’t all that traditional, either.” Hawke had showed them the pictures. Elvis, Dog in a bowtie, the giant sign above them while they said their touching vows. It really was them. Aw, the spin from Lina was met with a delighted chuckle, and Isabela giving her a round of light applause. “You can wear that one to a party or something! I don’t know which one yet, but surely someone will throw a schindig soon,” she nodded wisely. Or even on a date night out with the soon-to-be husband. Deciding to be helpful, she collected the rejects on their hangers to bring back up to the front of the store. Maker, had they really just picked out a wedding dress? As in, for real, one was actually selected? After about ten-thousand stores? This certainly required a celebration of sorts. “Shoegasm will have you what you need, when it comes to footwear - of that I’m sure. No need to wander all over creation. And you’re quite welcome, it was fun.” She really did enjoy a bit of shopping here and there. It provided for a bonding experience, and wasn’t as much fun yourself - kind of like fucking, or something. “Traditionalists can stick with their frills and whatnot. But we wild ladies need a bit more excitement, I think.” Oh yeaaaaaah, Shoegasm. The boutique Bela’s other redhaired friend ran - though that one actually had a flair for the whole fashion scene, with her designer tastes and designer wares. Lina doubted she’d go through hell and back for a pair of fucking shoes, and she meant that seriously this time. Just something on her feet that didn’t make them ache or look like a disaster. “If I’d brought my sister along she would have been pushing towards the frills and all that crap,” she sourly said, happy to go back inside the dressing room to finally be dressed for the last damn time. Next time these things were coming off she was going to make Pete do the clothing removal because you can bet your damn sweet ass she’d be that lazy (and who else knows what that could lead to, that was always a perk!). “But nope, I’m satisfied with the loot we’ve got. All the dress-shopping’s just given me the itch to do something a little more…” Lina’s tongue clicked in thought. Once she emerged out, dresses over her arms and back in her casual yet cute ensemble, she looked to Bela with a raised brow. “Adventurous. When’s the last time you’ve beaten up a crook and taken all their shit?” Drinks and cupcakes could be involved, of course, but this was obviously for the greater good of cleaning the streets and getting stuff. Adventurous was the magic word, and truly music to the rogue pirate’s ears. Isabela visibly perked up. “Let’s see - clocking some thug in the face, taking their shit? It’s been far too long, love, I do believe we’ve got to remedy that. I’m now craving something of a parting gift, yes? I'm sure we can find some crooks with the good stuff.” Now she was just in a hurry to book it for the thrills and chills. Lina just had to pay for her frocks, stash them in the car, and then they’d be off. “I always knew you and me had similar interests,” Bela added with a smirk, and hell. They even had similar taste in men too, being that their beloveds were such adorably cute boyfriends and all. Cupcakes too, Bela wanted everything. She was a greedy pirate, really, but what else was new. Her reputation as Bandit Killer came about for a reason, even if she wasn’t exactly enthralled with the title - it was an itch that needed to be satisfied every now and again, a habit that refused to completely die but at least she wasn’t sneaking out at night on Pete like she’d done with Gourry in the dreams (he took the ‘protector’ thing too seriously) to do her rounds. With modern times the whole thing was a little more difficult to do - not to mention responsibilities like, oh, motherhood - but she’d made it work. Violence was therapeutic. So was the bit of extra cash flow. Lina’s eyes had that devious spark and she bit her bottom lip, waggling her eyebrows at Isabela. “And I always figured you wouldn’t say no to a request like that. Alright, I’m going to go pay for these and stow it safely somewhere - and then we’re going to finish off the rum being heroes or something.” It’s not like they were targeting civilians. Just thugs, who targeted civilians, and needed a little bit of justice to hit them square in the face and their valuable belongings taken away. Not entirely illegal and only a tiny smidge immoral. |