Page 32 of Fly to Fury
The elves and humans trooped back down a hallway, presumably heading for the dressing rooms.
As they trickled out once again, the man handed each of them a slip of paper. “You’re all set. Your photographs will be available tomorrow. Please pick them up within a week.”
Once the last of them left, the man motioned to Fieran and his group. He went up to each of them, asking if they wanted any additional photographs beyond what had already been paid for.
Most of the others only went with the one print. Fieran paid for copies of all the photographs. He would have the whole squadron that way. Stickyfingers scrounged up enough coins to get a second photograph to send home to his mama, as did Lije.
“Please follow me.” The man led them down the hallway, pausing at the end where two doors stood on either side. “The female dressing room is this one. My wife will assist you.”
Aylia shared a grin with Pip, then shoved the door open.
As the two of them disappeared inside, the man opened the other door. Fieran and the others filed inside.
The room was a chaos of costumes, from wigs on stands to a drawer with wax elf ears lined up in pairs. Several racks held various pieces of chain mail, elven armor, leatherjerkins, and so on. Wooden weapons were stacked along one wall.
The man gathered up some of the pairs of wax ears and began handing them out. “Here are the ears for those of you dressing as elves.”
As he reached Fieran, he held out a pair of ears. Fieran tilted his head and swept back the shaggy ends of his hair. “I don’t need wax ears.”
The man halted and blinked. “Oh, um, then are you dressing as one of the humans?” He eyed Fieran’s short hair dubiously.
“No, he’s dressing as an elf, and this one is supposed to dress as a human.” Pretty Face jabbed a finger at Merrik. “They’re the half-elves, half-humans of the squadron.”
“Ah.” The man nodded and continued his bustling.
“This is definitely your wig.” Merrik picked one up, the wig hidden by his body, before he turned and held it out to Fieran.
It was a nearly identical red to Fieran’s hair. But the wig’s hair was so long it would reach Fieran’s waist once he put it on, the strands flowing with a slight wave.
The sight was a punch to his chest in a way he didn’t want to admit. This wig was what Fieran’s hair would look like, if he ever stuck with growing his hair out long enough to have proper elf hair.
As a child, he’d once wanted long elf hair so that he could be just like his dacha. Before he’d realized just how annoying and not-elven his hair type was.
Perhaps Merrik knew all that because while his smile was joking, his eyes held something more.
Fieran took the wig, forcing a lighthearted grin. “Yep. This is definitely mine.”
Across the room, Lt. Rothilion eyed the clothing. “When was the last time these were washed?”
The man didn’t stiffen as Fieran might have expected. Instead, he spoke with an almost weary tone. Perhaps Lt. Rothilion hadn’t been the first of the elves to comment on the sanitation of the clothing that day. “My wife sees to it that the clothing is kept clean and in good condition. I inspect all the hats and wigs for lice after each use. Everything is sized and designed to put over the clothing you are already wearing.”
The curl remained on Lt. Rothilion’s mouth, but he plucked a set of human-style chain mail off the rack with a resigned sigh.
Fieran would have to commend Lije, Pretty Face, and Stickyfingers. This was an excellent idea.
Pip stoodout of the way as Aylia just about attacked the clothing rack.
“I have always wondered what it would be like to wear one of those human dresses with the huge, swishing skirts. What about you?” Aylia shuffled through the rack, her smile bright, her eyes sparkling. “It looks like so much fun.”
“If a large skirt is what you’d like, what about this one?” The tall, well-built woman pulled another rack forward before she extricated a deep purple dress with an absolutely voluminous skirt. Gold edged both the collar and the bodice. “I believe this should be right for your height.”
“Excellent! Yes.” Aylia snatched the dress from the woman.
“And now for you…” The woman turned to Pip, a slight frown puckering her forehead. “I don’t know if I’ll have anything small enough. We didn’t bring anything in children’s sizes when we set up our shop here in Fort Defense. But we’ll come up with something. Even if it’s slightly long, you only need to walk from here to the photography room.”
Pip suppressed a sigh. How many times had she been told she was child-sized when trying to purchase clothing? At least when she visited her muka’s family in the dwarven mountains, she was on the tall side.
The woman sorted through the clothing racks before she pulled out a deep emerald dress, this one also edged in golden embroidery. “This one would look stunning with your coloring. It will be long, but if we arrange it correctly for the photograph, it will simply make the skirt appear even larger.”
