Preparations….

I can’t stand it, you guys. The ball is TOMORROW! A whole DAY away! I’m trying to buy myself off with “preparations”, but I’m so excited I can’t stand it!

Previous: An Invitation Arrives

I remembered at the last minute that I was the author, and I could bypass whatever scenes I wanted to. Zig was pouty, but when I reminded him of the last time he went to Liza’s, he suddenly stopped complaining. Mhmm.

Luckily, Liza’s gift for reading people and situations worked just as well for the author as it did for proper characters, and while she did make me try on a handful of outfits for her enjoyment, the final dress was perfect, as she knew it would be.

I cheated, and stole a photo from the internet, because I’m just not that into clothes. Into it enough that googling pretty dresses was fun- for about five minutes- but writing about them was right out. For the sake of those that were into it, I took a moment to consider hair and shoes, but I was pretty sure this scene was gonna get cut anyways, so I didn’t bother with too much detail. An elegant coif that showcased my natural curls, studded with random sparklies, because everyone loved sparklies. Black suede boots that laced all the way up my considerably long legs – what is about fiction that makes long legs need to be “considerably long”? Is that a rule somewhere? I wasn’t sure, but I knew I was gonna encase every last inch of those three feet in suede, because there was no way I could afford boots like this in real life. Ok, so maybe I spared more than a few details for shoes, but anyone that knows me isn’t surprised, and anyone that doesn’t- I have a thing for shoes. Ask anyone. When you wear a size 12 AND A HALF, you take what you can find, but oh! do I dream of being able to walk into any story and just BUY SHOES.

…anyways.

The boots would serve the double purpose of being stylish and comfortable. No way did I need heels with my height, and it’s not like I could dance in them anyways. I’d rather go barefoot for dancing, but I knew I’d be grateful for something on my legs out in the cold October night. And, ya know, the yummy factor. This was my fantasy, I could wear whatever shoes I wanted, and I wanted thigh-high suede boots.
Dress and shoes went lovingly into a garment bag, with a smaller bag for sparklies hung over the hanger neck. My hair would do whatever glorious mess it wanted to, and no amount of styling would stop it, so I just hoped that it was in a good mood tomorrow night.

Next: To the Ball!