Page 33 of Fly to Fury
“Yes, Pip, that one is perfect for you.” Aylia had already wiggled the purple dress over her clothing. “Do you think you could braid my hair and pin it in a coil? I saw a photograph of a human woman with her hair in that style, and I’ve always wanted to try it.”
Pip nodded. “Of course.”
“This tiara matches the dress and would nestle in your hair nicely.” The woman passed the green dress to Pip before she retrieved a tiara from a drawer. She held up a second tiara, this one with what looked like emeralds and diamonds, though they must have been just fake glass, and turned to Aylia. “And this one would look lovely on you.”
Pip quickly wiggled into the dress, though she needed Aylia’s help to cinch the dress tightly enough. The woman produced a few pins and set to work pinning the shoulders so that the neckline rested correctly instead of gaping and loose. The dress would look funny from the back, but only the front mattered for the photograph.
After braiding Aylia’s hair, Pip decided to leave her hairdown. Each of them nestled the sparkling tiaras in their hair, and then they were ready.
Aylia gripped her voluminous purple skirts and gave a twirl, accompanied by the rustling of layers of fabric. “This is so fun. So much fabric. So swishy. Elven skirts are always so smooth.”
Pip swished the fabric of her skirt back and forth since she didn’t dare twirl, given the excess of fabric and all the pins holding the dress in place. “It is.”
There was just something fun about getting all prettied up, even if it was a costume dress and a fake tiara. She might spend her days in grease-smeared coveralls while she wrenched on aeroplanes, but that didn’t mean she disliked fancy dresses.
A knock sounded on the door before the woman’s husband called, “Whenever you are ready.”
The woman gave a nod. “We will be out in a moment.” She shot Aylia, then Pip a smile. “It’s always good to give the men a moment to file into the room first. That way you can make a grand entrance.”
The woman knew her stuff, that was for sure.
After the tromping and clacking in the hallway outside of the door quieted, the woman opened the door and motioned to them.
Aylia swept out first, her head held high so that the tiara stayed in place.
Pip gathered handfuls of the voluminous green skirts. Even hiking the fabric up to her waist, there was so much that she was still in danger of tripping. She took short, mincing steps so that she didn’t catch the trailing skirts, and she felt like a bobbing cupcake.
With Aylia filling the hallway, Pip couldn’t see into thephotography room until Aylia had entered and stepped aside.
As Pip popped out of the hallway into the large, front room, she took in the group assembling in front of the camera.
Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked on to Fieran.
He wore a wig of long, wavy red hair, the strands arranged to show the tips of his pointed ears. Leaves of elven armor glinted while he carried twin swords. With his hawkish nose, all it would have taken would have been some grime and gore for him to look like an ancient elven warrior king stepped from the pages of some long ago historical battle.
Fieran with long hair…she hadn’t thought she’d ever see it. And the sight squeezed her chest and fluttered in the pit of her stomach.
As if sensing her gaze, Fieran turned. His eyes widened, his mouth widening into anO.He stared at her as if he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her any more than she could look away from him.
“Let’s get you situated.” The woman gently nudged Pip.
Pip looked away from Fieran and shuffled across the room. As she did, she finally took in the others. Both Merrik and Lt. Rothilion had tied their hair back in neat old-fashioned human-style queues while the helmets they wore covered their ears. They had opted for chain mail, bucklers, and a double-edged human-style sword for their weapons. Despite Lt. Rothilion’s bad mood earlier about the whole ordeal, his face remained blank rather than sneering.
Her brother Mak wore layers of leather and hefted a huge, double-bladed ax that was likely heavy even as a wooden prop. With a helmet on his head, he appeared to besome kind of human barbarian from ages gone by. As her gaze met his, he gave her a grin.
Stickyfingers, Lije, and Pretty Face all wore elven armor, fake elf ears, and wigs. Shorter than the others, Stickyfingers just couldn’t manage to look like an elf even in the costume. Lije toted an elven bow and, smooth-shaven as he was, he pulled off more of the elven appearance. Pretty Face likely would have made a decent impression of an elf, if not for his facial hair.
But it was Tiny who drew a smothered snort of laughter from her. Tiny had somehow managed to tie a wig beneath his nose to form a trailing, dark brown beard that would have clashed with his white hair, if his hair hadn’t been hidden by the large, squarish helmet on his head. He, too, toted a wooden ax, though this one had a more dwarven geometric design to it. The fake armor also was the heavy, plate style that dwarven warriors had worn in ages gone by. If not for his gray skin, Tiny might have passed for a dwarf, with his shorter height and beefy arms.
Pip plunked herself at the front of the group. She was always in the front for photographs.
The woman bustled as she arranged them. She spent some time on Pip’s skirts, making the extra fabric appear to be a natural puffiness to the dress rather than too much dress for too short of a person.
Once the man was satisfied with the composition, all of them held their pose, waiting the required time for the photograph to take.
Finally, the man straightened from under the camera’s hood. “All set.”
Fieran’s gusting sigh stirred Pip’s hair a moment before he leaned closer to her. “I’ve never seen you in a dress.”
