<Sirena: Yo, you still singing to your tree?>

<Fey: Yup.>

<Sirena: Only you could spend this much time singing to an inanimate object.>

<Fey: Hey, at least it’s not offended when I go off tune.>

<Sirena: Anyways, get your butt over to the tailor shop in Capital City so we can do a fitting.>

<Fey: Coming.>

 

Fey patted her mana tree, which had now exceeded her in height after several long Tree-singing sessions augmented by Amethyst’s ability to secrete mana potions. Her status screen showed that she was 15% bonded to the tree, though this had yet to produce any noticeable effects.

Making sure Amethyst had a secure grip on her shoulder with the curious claw-hand she had developed on her bubble, Fey took off at a fast run towards the teleportation gate near the Moonwood. The pace was not a headlong sprint, given the lack of a path and the dense tree growth, but she covered several kilometers in a matter of minutes, enjoying the boundless energy and ease of movement that came with high agility, high stamina, and a lightened avariel body.

 

Weaving quickly though the small crowd always gathered around new arrivals and departures, she stepped into the gate before anyone could talk to her.

◊◊◊

Fey stepped out of the gate in Capital City with similar alacrity and made her way to the tailor shop.

Only Blade was visible on the shop’s main floor.

“Lookin’ dapper, Blade,” Fey greeted. “I like the cufflinks.”

Blade was dressed in a classic black suit that showed off his athletic figure while a tailor made adjustments with pins. Silver cufflinks gleamed from his shirtsleeves.

He pulled at his collar with a finger, only to have his hand slapped away by the tailor. “I hate suits,” he complained.

“Beauty is pain,” Fey said cheerfully, crossing the floor and making her way up the stairs.

 

Hearing Fey’s footsteps, Sirena called out from within a change stall on the second floor. “Hurry up and put your dress on.”

Fey’s dress hung on a stand next to an open change stall, with a tailor standing by to adjust the party’s outfits. Fey carefully gathered her gown (it would be so typical for her to destroy it before even putting it on) and stepped into the change stall.

“Let me know when you’re ready for assistance,” the tailor said.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Fey said. (Boy, was she wrong.)

It turned out that sliding the gown on was only the first (and least painful step). She stepped out of the stall with her corset stays loosely tied. The tailor then proceeded to tighten them with a strength not entirely expected of someone who sewed for a living.

“Oof.” The air left Fey’s lungs like she had been punched in the diaphragm. Due to the ongoing constriction, it never returned.

<Breathing restricted. -95% stamina until relieved.>

 

Mimi exited her change stall wearing her choice of dress, a rich gray gown with a high-low skirt that showed off her toned calves and athletic build while being easy to move (and breathe) in.

“Hey, Mimi,” Fey greeted, voice much quieter and breathier than usual. “You look great.”

Mimi took in Fey’s ramrod straight posture and accentuated pallor even as the tailor continued to tighten the lacing. “Too much?” the sniper asked, feeling responsible for the outfit choice.

“Oh no,” Fey reassured her (breathlessly). “I’m gaining a new appreciation for not having been born in the Victorian Era.

 

Sirena stepped out in a modern-looking blue-green dress that complemented her skin. Cascading ruffles around the skirt was reminiscent of sea foam.

She looked Fey over with a critical eye. “You’ll look great if you don’t pass out.”

“I think I can manage that. Unless there are stairs. Cannot manage stairs.” Fey could still manage full sentences in a single breath – if the sentences were short.

 

They moved on to arguing about shoes. Fey had initially agreed with Sirena’s choice of 10cm strappy heels (because if you were going to be ridiculous, might as well go all the way), but did not think she could manage them given her scant experience with such high shoes and the moderate lightheadedness induced by the corset.

“Just try them on,” Sirena insisted, pushing the delicate-but-dangerous-looking footwear into Fey’s hands.

“Fine.” (It would normally be ‘fiiiine’ but, you know, lung capacity.) Fey Ex-quipped into the shoes rather than attempt to bend at the waist in her corset.

 

<Feet restricted. -70% agility until relieved.>

 

“Wow. My feet don’t hurt,” Fey said, surprised.

“Told you,” said Sirena. “They’re enchanted to boost stamina regen and healing, so your feet won’t get sore or blistered.”

Fey turned (carefully) to look at herself in the three-panelled mirror. She had to admit, she looked great. Mimi had chosen a dark purple ballgown with black accents that matched her eyes and hair. The corset gave her thin build a classic hourglass shape on a smaller scale. The layered skirt flowed out from the hips in an elegant bell, cut to a length that would cover her feet if it were not for the sky-high shoes that made them look tiny and delicate. A pair of elbow-length gloves in the same purple completed the outfit.

 

“Okay, I look great. I just can’t move,” Fey said dryly (50% joking). She had very limited experience walking in heels this high and felt like a newborn giraffe.

“Just hang on to your date,” Sirena said (90% serious, 10% to freak Fey out about having a date).

 

Fey looked at her reflection with new eyes, wondering what Leandriel would think of her outfit. Between the black accents and compressed tininess of her waist, it was somewhat extreme and more on the ‘evil queen’ side than ‘princess’. She personally liked wearing slightly scary-looking outfits, but maybe it was too much…

Mimi met her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “You look beautiful,” she said, smiling.

Fey attempted a curtsey; her ankles wobbled but held. She dismissed her concerns. She liked the dress. She would wear the dress.

 

After the tailor made final adjustments, the girls changed out of their gowns and back into their normal adventurewear (*made up words*). They picked up a relaxed and relieved Blade downstairs (apparently heavy plate armour is more comfortable than a collared shirt) and headed out to train.

 

◊◊◊

 

Arwyn sat in front of her laptop, writing an essay, something she had not done since graduating from university. Rather unexpectedly, she was completing an assignment from tae kwon do class as part of the requirements for her upcoming black belt test. Her dojang was the traditional kind that focused on the knowledge and discipline aspects of the martial art rather than physical training only. In addition to writing two essays, she was memorizing thirty spoken phrases in Korean; five written, including her own name; and all of the dojang’s mottos and tenets.

Arwyn was somewhat grateful for these requirements. While she was easily the weakest individual in her high belt class, the memorization came easily to her and gave her a section of the exam where she could outperform her fellow students.

 

The topic of the essay was ‘confidence’.

 

A large part of the taekwondo philosophy is about striving for constant self-improvement. I think this leads to true self-confidence. In society, people often compare themselves to others. This either leads to poor confidence if they see others with better skills and abilities, or stagnation if they see that they are one of the best in their field. Rather than looking to compare myself to others, I focus on the progress that I have made, and try to make tomorrow better than today. True self-confidence comes from within, and cannot come from other people. There is always room for improvement and there are always people with more experience and skill, but that does not mean I cannot take pride in my own learning and the journey it took to get here.[i]

 

Arwyn frowned. The words felt somewhat simplistic and did not quite convey the depth she wanted. She shrugged; the people marking it would know what she was talking about, and this was not an English assignment. She saved and printed a copy to hand in.

 

***

 

Leander paused in walking on campus when Lacey pinged him for his location. He granted the information and waited until she caught up, absently noting that her hair was now silver. “What is it?” he asked.

Lacey passed an image to his cell and he opened it to find a picture of his avatar, except it was wearing an outfit he did not recall ever putting on.

“It’s your outfit for the Yule Ball,” she answered cheerfully. “I just finished it. It took me four days, so be grateful.”

Leander looked up from what he could now tell was a graphic rendering rather than an in-game screencapture. “Four days? Did you not have actual work to do?”

She winked. “I volunteered to come up with new clothing styles that might become popular in Fantasia. I handed in my other designs, but this is one for you only, at least until after the ball. I’ll count it towards my free time.”

Leander sighed at the ‘free time’ excuse and examined the design in more detail. “It is… not what I was planning on wearing.”

 

Made of glossy black silk, the outfit had a vague resemblance to a traditional dress suit, but with a dramatic flared collar and purple knotted fastenings that looked vaguely Chinese to his eye. The trim at the edge of his collar and sleeves was also purple, shiny and almost metallic-looking in contrast to the black. He had to admire the way the shiny black material contrasted with the matte white of his wings. His avatar looked great; he just was not certain he wanted such an eye-catching outfit.

 

“Leander,” Lacey said with utmost seriousness. “You are going to a ball where there will be literally millions of guys wearing tuxedos. It’s conceivable that some of them will be interested in dancing with a certain elf girl you’re obsessed with. Do you really want to blend into the crowd?”

“…I guess not.” With the idea of random men vying for Fey’s attention, the outfit was suddenly a more attractive option. It was not exactly his style, but he could tell that Lacey had taken his preferences into account given the fact that it was not some riotous colour as she tended to put into her designs.

“Do you want it or not?” Lacey asked, a hint of hurt crossing her expression. “I worked really hard on it, you know.”

Guilt washed over him. “Yes, thank you. I really do appreciate all the… help… you have provided me recently.” He had been about to say ‘interference’, but then exchanged it for a more positive word.

Lacey’s expression cleared suspiciously quickly. “Great! I’ll let you know which tailor to pick it up from. Later!” She rushed off.

 

Leander stared after her, trying to ascertain the degree to which he had been manipulated.

 

***

 

Arwyn glanced at her phone and frowned at the notification that her credit card had just been charged for a large purchase. She was on her second essay and certainly not shopping online.

Opening the notification, her puzzlement deepened at the description: VirtualRealities.com: costume, player Fey E’lan.

If someone stole my credit card information, why would they use it to buy things for my Fantasia account?

 

Her confusion cleared when she received a text.

Leah: I bought your costume for the New Year’s cosplay party. Tickets are on me ^_^

(You know when your best friend is the one who stole your credit card information?)

Arwyn: For [bleep]’s sake, when did you get my credit card information?

Leah: When we ordered food six months ago

Arwyn: I should have you arrested for identity fraud.

Leah: Make sure you go pick up the costume at the store. It should be 3D printed by tomorrow. Also, it includes temporary hair dye

Arwyn: I don’t even get why you want to go to this thing.

Leah: Blade’s going! Don’t you want to see what he looks like in real life?

Arwyn: He picked human. He has no appearance modules. He looks the same.

Leah: Don’t be such a downer

Leah: Besides, this is your chance to do a PERFECT cosplay. You know you want to

Arwyn: How is it even cosplay if you’re being yourself?

Leah: You’re not going as boring ol’ Arwyn Lu. You’re going as Fey E’lan, avariel assassin.

Arwyn: Oh god, am I going to have to deal with wings?

Leah: They’re just holographic. You won’t knock things over.

Arwyn: Fiiiiine. Just don’t make me bankrupt with your crazy purchases.

Leah: You make plenty of money. Live a little.

 

Arwyn sighed and went back to work.

---

Footnotes:

[i] This is an actual passage from an essay the author wrote prior to her first degree black belt exam. It poorly conveys the degree to which she respects and enjoys tae kwon do.