//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: This Just Doesn't Suit Me // Story: Master Disaster // by Dolphy Blue Drake //------------------------------// “For the last time, Nightfall, an occasion such as the Big Burning Bash can’t be attended in ceremonial armor!” Extraordinaire snapped for what felt like the thousandth time in ten minutes.  “This is so much bigger than a mere semi-formal event!  One absolutely must wear a suit or dress to such an occasion!” “Extra, I’ve been to the Bash multiple times,” Nightfall groaned, rapidly growing sick of explaining the same thing over and over to his very strong-willed friend.  “Ceremonial armor isn’t out of place there at all.  Yes, some dragons wear suits and dresses to it, but not all of them do!” But Extraordinaire wasn’t going to give up yet.  “Well, I can’t very well make armor for Wishy, now, can I?” The white Dragoon shot back.  “She’d look much better in a dress!” He paused for a moment, remembering that she was actually on Nightfall’s back, and shot her a charming smile, “And we both know you’d look positively adorable, anyways.”  Nightfall rolled his eyes as Wishful burst into giggles at the compliment and flushed as red as Ambrosia’s scales.  “She’s already agreed to fully-formal attire, so why can’t the rest of you just agree to a nice suit and tie?  I have great ideas planned for all seven of us!” “I wouldn’t be caught dead in a suit!” Prism Slash growled, looking like he’d start ripping at the first bolt of fabric that came within ten feet of him.  “They’re so… urgh, uppity and fancy!  And they cramp my style!” Apple Slice was not as stubborn about it as Prism, but still frowned at the idea. “Ah just wouldn’t feel right in a suit,” He said solemnly.  “The only time Ah ever wore one was ta Mammy and Pappy’s funeral.  Suits make meh think of stuff of that sort.  Sorry, Extra.” The other five Dragoons turned towards Timidwings, who tried his best not to shrink under their gazes. “Um, I really don’t mind wearing a suit,” Timidwings said softly while everygon else took a moment to breathe, having been trying to keep up with Extraordinaire’s pace towards the boutique this whole time.  “It’s just that everygon else wants to wear armor, and I don’t want to be a ‘square wheel’, if you know what I mean.  Well, as long as nogon minds, that is.” “I don’t care what you make, just so long as it’s fun!” Goody exclaimed, eliciting a glare from some of the others.  “If you can make a suit fun, then I say do it!  Though I was kind of hoping for a helmet with a brush top so I could do all sorts of fun things with it.” Extraordinaire was ready to turn to the dramatics to get his point across. He practically threw himself onto his knees in the middle of the boutique, looking every inch the pitiful supplicant. “Look Nightfall,” Extraordinaire said, clasping his foreclaws together pleadingly.  “I almost never get to sell suits and dresses!  It’s always my metalwork that dragons are interested in!  Suits and dresses are my true forte!  Please just let me do it for this one occasion!” Nightfall thought for a bit, mulling it over in his head; but when he didn’t respond, the fashion Dragoon decided to make one more attempt.  He had one more move to play.  Extraordinaire moved back into a usual standing position, a smug grin slowly spreading across his face. “Nightfall… when you went to the Bash in the past, which dragons wore suits and dresses instead of ceremonial armor?” Nightfall blinked, caught off guard, and immediately began listing the kinds of dragons who dressed fully formal from memory.  “Well, celebrities, nobility, officials of the state, the high-ranking members of the Guard, special guests, anygon recognized by the Crown for special deeds and heroism—” Nightfall cut off when he noticed Extraordinaire’s victorious grin.  “Freeze me in Cocytus, that’s us to a ‘T’ isn’t it?” He admitted glumly. “Yes, that would in fact be us,” the white Dragoon replied simply.  He dropped his smugness immediately and began to act all business, fully resisting the temptation to rub his victory in Nightfall’s face.  “Now, I’ll need everygon’s measurements for this, and while I measure each of you, we can discuss my ideas for how to make each outfit reflect you perfectly.”  Turning to address Apple Slice directly, he added, “And don’t worry, Apple Slice.  I’ll do my best to make you a suit that doesn’t dredge up those bad memories.” He turned back to the purple Dragoon. “Okay, Nightfall, how about you go first?” Extraordinaire suggested. Nightfall sighed and gave a reluctant nod before following his friend to the stage that was set up specifically for measuring and fitting, mirrors placed in enough locations so that getting a full view of the patron’s body would be quite simple from almost any angle. “Stand upright, please,” Extraordinaire requested, motioning with his claws for Nightfall to take such a stance. The librarian complied, standing with only his actual legs supporting him, feeling the tug of gravity on his top-heavy adult frame. Working with a tape measure, the fashion Dragoon quickly got to work, measuring arm length, shoulder width, neck size, waist size, leg length, foot size, wing position, and chest size, while Nightfall’s legs trembled slightly under the added weight.  It took a little while, to Nightfall’s dismay, since Extraordinaire had a habit of checking every measurement three times over. “Hmm, yes…” the white dragon mused as he whipped out a notepad and pencil.  “I think I see potential here.  Just let me sketch your form, and then you can return to the easier posture.”  After sketching quickly, Extraordinaire said, noting his patron’s discomfort, “Okay, you can drop back to all fours.” Nightfall heaved a sigh of relief as he dropped his arms back to the ground, feeling the pull of gravity cease. “Okay, I think it may be better for me to get everygon’s measurements before discussing designs,” Extraordinaire announced to the other five.  “So, if Slash could come to the stage now, I’d very much appreciate it.  I’m certain I can make you something that doesn’t ‘cramp your style’.” Slash gulped, looked back at the others with a whisper of, “If I’m not back in five minutes, please drag me out if you have to.”  With that, he marched towards the stage with the air of a Dragoon going to the scaffold. Two hours later, Extraordinaire was finishing up measuring Wishful for her dress.  The filly looked very happy to be the main focus of Extraordinaire’s attention, and was trying to savor every second of it while it lasted.  The others were just glad their turns were already up. But soon enough, the last set of measurements had been taken, and Extraordinaire made one final sketch before approaching the group, a gleam in his eye and his notebook in claw. “Can we go now?” Slash grumbled, still looking at the bolts of cloth scattered about like they might eat him if left unattended.  “I’m bored.” “Not quite yet, my dear friend,” Extraordinaire replied, brandishing his notebook.  “But soon.  We just have to discuss designs, and we’ll be done.” “Oh joy,” Slash groaned.  “Let’s get this over with.  We’ll talk first so I can get out of here faster.” Extraordinaire did his very best not to look insulted that he wanted to leave so soon.  “Okay,” the white Dragoon replied, picking up on Slash’s sour mood and deciding that he needed to do his best to navigate around it carefully.  “So, what is it about suits that ‘cramp your style’?  I have some ideas on designs, but I need to know what your problem is, first.” “They’re itchy, they cause drag, and a tie just ends up flapping over my shoulder when I fly,” Slash muttered, looking back at his wings, then back at Extraordinaire.  “Can you possibly fix all of that?” “Well, a tighter, more form-fitting coat would cause a lot less drag, for one,” Extraordinaire said thoughtfully, jotting down the detail on his notepad, muttering to himself at a volume only he could hear.  “As for it being itchy?  There are plenty of materials that aren’t itchy, and I prefer them, anyway.  And as for the tie…”  The white Dragoon thought for a moment before exclaiming, “Inspiration!  A bow tie would fix everything!” Slash didn’t look too enthused at the idea, but shrugged.  It was better than the other kind, at least. “Now, as for the design,” Extraordinaire mused, tapping his pencil against his chin,  “Something to accentuate your unique color scheme.  Maybe throw in a slight amount of ancient Fairy Dragon influence?”  He started scribbling like mad on his notepad, not even aware of Slash’s expression that screamed that he’d had enough.  “A sleek, form-fitting, seven-colored suit coat, preferably double vented for less drag, over a simple, flowing white shirt with a cloud-like hem at the end of the sleeves, accentuated with gold rings at the base of the wings!” He continued sketching away, taking no notice of Slash attempting to look over his shoulder at the notebook. “Let’s see, as for the pants… standard short black dress trousers should work, but with a stripe down either leg in the same colors as the coat.”  He paused for a moment, then slapped his forehead. “Of course, I’ll need to make proper boots to go with it…” Prism Slash was visibly quite unhappy with the idea of any footwear, but just barely restrained himself from letting Extraordinaire know it.  After all, he wasn’t one to bite the hand that fed h— um, made his suit. Now, at the mention of black, Apple Slice looked up, eyeing Extraordinaire warily. “Ya aren’t gonna make anythin’ black fer meh, right? Because Ah really wanna avoid the funeral look, thank ya very much.” Extraordinaire looked away from his notebook as he finished sketching Slash’s design, giving Apple Slice a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry.  Black is incredibly out of season, anyway, especially for the Bash.  Now, for you I’m thinking…” He looked back down at his notebook, jotting down a few more details. “It’d have to be green and brown for you; earth tones, but warm and with a certain simple elegance.  Hmm… brown suit coat, but green tie and vest; brown trousers, too, I think.”  The white Dragoon looked down at his measurements again, before continuing to write. “White shirt for you as well, but perhaps a sturdier fabric than Slash’s.  Boots brown to match the rest…” Slice didn’t seem to mind the boots, at least; though he thought the vest was just a mite much.  He hadn’t even worn a vest to his parents’ funeral.  But, of course, he wasn’t going to point this out to Extraordinaire when he was in full inspiration mode. Once done sketching his ideas for Slice’s suit, he turned to Nightfall. “Now, of course, this is going have to be something in either indigo or navy to bring out—” “Let’s just stick to something simple and practical, please,” Nightfall cut him off, crossing his arms.   Extraordinaire bristled a bit, taking a breath before speaking. “Nightfall, my dear friend, this is one of the most important formal events in the Kingdom.  Before you might have attended as Lord Lumin’s student, but now you are a national hero.  This is a bit different.  What you wear reflects on you, for better or worse, as unlike before, there’s going to be a lot of attention on you, and the rest of us by extension.” He looked back at the notebook, not noticing Nightfall’s stubborn look. “Anyways, something in navy or indigo should do for the whole suit, preferably in silk.  I can do the vest in damask with silver stars embroidered for a good contrast to the rest of the—” “That doesn’t sound very simple or practical,” Nightfall interrupted again, just wanting to get something plain and serviceable enough to fit the occasion.  After all, he’d likely never have to wear it again, right? Extraordinaire’s pencil snapped in his grip, the white Dragoon looking up with an exasperated scowl. “Nightfall, this isn’t about practicality.  This isn’t some kind of village fete where everygon’s dressed in the nearest thing they can find in their closets, or simply foregoing clothing as usual.  This is The Bash, and you’re going to be be there, both as our leader and as a national hero in your own right, as well as Lord Lumin’s student.  What you wear reflects exactly how seriously you take your newfound duties and status, and I’m quite sure you wouldn’t want to send the wrong message, right?” Nightfall was growing increasingly more irritated by the moment, his wings flaring out slightly. “Are you saying I’d be embarrassing Lord Lumin if I went in something more practical?  Because it never seemed to matter before; after all, before I always wore ceremonial armor and nogon ever seemed to mind, much less the Prince.” Extraordinaire gave him a withering glare, as if trying to ram home exactly how short-sighted he was being.  “You weren’t a national hero before, and I don’t imagine half the Bash was keeping an eye on you.  This isn’t like it was before; all of us, including you especially, are now public figures.  And what you do in public, how you act, what you wear, can have consequences for your public reputation, good or bad.”  The white Dragoon softened the glare somewhat, adopting a more persuasive expression. “Look, I’m just trying to make sure this Bash goes as well as possible for all of us, and won’t end up damaging your reputation, especially since you’re the Prince’s student.  You wouldn’t want to reflect badly on him, now would you?” Nightfall’s eyes widened, and he sputtered as he tried to collect a response. “B-b-but I—the Prince wouldn’t be—I didn’t mean…”  Nightfall sighed, hanging his head in a mixture of shame and defeat, “You’ve got a very good point, Extra.  I can’t understand why I didn’t realize this myself.  Out of all the books I’ve read, one of them had to have mentioned something like this!  I must’ve not payed attention…” His earfins drooped even more, looking like they might almost fall off the sides of his head. “I just… I really don’t want to be an embarrassment to Lord Lumin, especially after everything he’s taught me.  I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye for weeks; months, maybe!  He might even remove me as his student if I mess up too badly…” Extraordinaire realized he might’ve gone a bit too far, and decided to backpedal a bit before Nightfall could get dragged down by his own fears.  He placed a claw on the other Dragoon’s shoulder gently, looking him in the eye. “Relax, Nightfall.  I don’t think that will happen.  I’m sorry I might’ve scared you; I was just trying to get my point across, you know?  In all fairness, I think Lord Lumin is too proud of you to ever think of ending your apprenticeship.  Certainly nothing like a minor fashion mixup could cause him to do something so drastic.” He gave him a little smile. “After all, if Lord Lumin could forgive his brother after, well, that, he wouldn’t even bat an eye at something that small.”  As Nightfall began to visibly relax, Extraordinaire had one more point to get across to Nightfall before he got the idea not to worry at all. “But, you have to remember; it’s not what Lord Lumin would think that would matter most in the long run; it’s what the others at the Bash would think.  How your manner of dress and behavior reflects your mentor’s teachings, and we wouldn’t want anygon thinking he’s a bad teacher, now would you?  Because we both know some of the noble types at the Bash might be looking for an excuse to think badly of the Prince.  You know how politics is amongst the various factions; always looking for a leg up, even if they have to drag the one above them down.” Nightfall nodded fervently, remembering the many times petty squabbles had erupted in the Senate the few times he’d sat with Lord Lumin presiding over a Parliament session.  Lord Lumin most often looked like he wished he had a pair of earplugs to drown out the monotonous droning of Lord so-and-so and Lady such-and-such trying to suggest yet another budget cut to something they didn’t like.  Usually military spending, as they thought the idea of any actual use for the Royal Army was five centuries too old, thanks to the fearsome reputation of Draconia’s defenses and offence in earlier times.  The way most of the Peers reacted to the suggestion, you’d think they’d been refused permission to build a charity hospital for orphaned cats, or something of the like. Nightfall was drawn out of his memories by the sound of Extraordinaire’s voice, now directed towards Timidwings.  “And for you, Timmy, I have just the thing in mind!  A tea-green suit coat with a turquoise tie—oh, this is going to look so exquisite—turquoise satin vest, and charcoal gray trousers with a green stripe down the legs.  The shirt’s got to be something light and breezy to go with the elegance of the rest of the outfit.  As for the boots, I think a nice, suitable bla—” “Umm, Extra?  Don’t you think all that could be a bit too, um, eye-catching?  I mean, all those bright shades together sound a little… much?” Timidwings turned away a bit, not looking Extraordinaire in the eye. The white Dragoon’s eye twitched as he repressed the urge to tell Timidwings that being eye-catching was kind of the blasted point, but he refrained from raising his voice. After all, he had gone a little too far when he’d gotten angry at Nightfall, and he definitely didn’t want to scare off poor Timmy.  Instead, he took a breath, counted to ten forwards and backwards, and couched his expression into the most neutral look he could.  “Timmy, my dear friend, I’m designing it with those colors in mind, not that you’d stand out too much, but that you’d fit in with the other brightly-dressed guests there.  I don’t want you to feel singled out, after all, since I know you’d prefer not to draw unnecessary attention to yourself.” The yellow Dragoon’s nervous smile slowly turned genuine, and he nodded, “I guess that’s fine, if it won’t make me stand out too much.  It will be fairly comfortable for when I go out to visit the animals, right?” He asked with an almost pleading, puppy-dog-ish look in his eyes. “Of course!” Extraordinaire said with a nod, not able to refuse if he wanted to.  After all, he wouldn’t be able to stand it for weeks if the poor Dragoon got upset over something easily avoided. “I’ll make the whole outfit fairly light and breezy for you.”  Pretty soon, he finished jotting down his notes and sketches for Timidwings’ suit, before turning to his penultimate customer.  “Goody, for yours I was thinking—” “Pink!  It has to be pink. Oooh, and blue! And maybe some yellow in there too!” He said with a very excited grin, not noticing the white Dragoon’s instinctive cringe at the thought of all those colors mixed for the entire outfit.  Goody pointed towards a bolt of cloth lying askew on top of Extraordinaire’s sewing table. “See, that could work fine!” Extraordinaire looked at the bolt of cloth, looked back at Goody, and started rubbing his temples, doing his best to keep his voice level. “Goody, dear, first of all, that is not pink.  That is magenta.  Second of all, that fabric is cotton; hardly suitable for a formal suit.  If I was going to use a shade of pink, it would probably be rose or orchid pink; nothing quite so bright.  Yellow is definitely out.  Now, I might be able to use blue for the tie, at least, with possibly a blue stripe going down the dress trouser—” “Ooh, ooh!  What about making the vest blue, too?  Maybe royal blue?  Or pastel?  Or, oh, I got it, yellow stripes on the blue tie?  That would look so nice and cheerful, since yellow’s like the sun, and the sun is cheerful, and cheerful colors are always best for livening up parties—” Extraordinaire looked like he wanted to find the nearest trashcan at the very idea of a blue vest with a pink suit, or especially yellow stripes with the blue tie.  He swallowed down the urge to cringe once more, and decided to try telling Goody exactly why that wouldn’t work.  “Goody, dear: one, a blue vest and pink suit would clash horribly.  It’s like trying to decorate an unborn Hatchling or Hatchlette’s room, and being so indecisive you can’t pick either one.  As for the yellow stripes with the blue tie…” He couldn’t repress the shudder this time, “In all honesty, the very thought scares me just a little bit.  If there was a fashion police, they’d have me arrested on the spot for felony bad design.” Goody pouted a bit, but was soon back to his usual attitude in a few seconds.  “Well, what about blue embroidery on the vest?  Oh, and ruffles on the ends of the shirt sleeves?  And maybe you could make one of those cravat-thingies instead of a regular tie?  Those are so fun to look at!” Extraordinaire was reaching closer and closer to his breaking point with every new suggestion, until he could no longer take it anymore.  The cravat suggestion was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.  He slowly backed a safe distance away from Goody, took a breath, then just… snapped.  “Are you completely daft?!” He shouted, drawing looks of alarm from the other four Dragoons and one filly in the room. “Where in Draconia would you get such absolutely ridiculous ideas?  First of all, blue embroidery on a rose pink vest would be tackier than neon orange, ruffles on shirt sleeves are only acceptable if you’re playing a pirate in an opera, and finally, cravats have been out of style for nearly two centuries!  If you’re not going to take this seriously and let me do my blasted job, which, need I remind you, I am doing out of the goodness of my heart for you, then why are you even here?!”  He stopped, his breath coming out in pants as he fixed Goody with an angry scowl, a small amount of razor-sharp diamond particles flying from his mouth.   Goody’s usually poofy headfins seemed to deflate, somehow, and he slowly backed up towards the others. “I was just trying to give suggestions, Extra…” Extraordinaire was prepared to give Goody the full force of his impending tirade; but he noticed the others in the room looking at him with both fear and concern in their eyes.  Goody looked genuinely sad for once.  Slash and Slice looked like they thought they might need to intervene if things got any worse.  Nightfall was looking at Extraordinaire like he was about to recommend a good therapist.  Timidwings had his back to the wall, visibly trembling and shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe the dragon before him could be the same friend he had grown to know.  And, of course, Wishful was gazing at him as if she thought he might fall apart if he was prodded a moment further. The white Dragoon looked down at the floor, turned his head to the side, and muttered, “I… I think I need some space for a few minutes.  Would you mind if I head outside for a few…?” “Not at all.” Nightfall said, nodding, turning to head towards the door.  “We’ll give you some space until you cool down.  Wishful?” “B-but he hasn’t done anything for my dress yet!” She protested, looking up at the white Dragoon.  “Don’t worry; I won’t have any complaints or suggestions you don’t like, I promise. I’d love it no matter how you made it!” Extraordinaire just sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Wishful.  I’ll have to continue with this later.  Could you go with Nightfall and give me some space for a while?  You’ve done nothing wrong, I just… I need to be alone for a while, okay? Come back in, say, a couple hours, alright?” Wishful nodded, reluctantly turning to follow her father-figure with the other Dragoons out the door. “All… alright.  We’ll be back in a couple hours.” With that, the door shut behind her, leaving Extraordinaire alone in the room.  After a moment of silence, allowing him to collect his thoughts, he called upstairs to his brother.  “Silver Bolt?  Could you come down here, please?” “Sure!” Was the shouted reply, and his younger brother headed down the stairs and into the main room. “What do you need, Extra?” The Dragonling asked.  His scales were white like his brother’s, though his curly headfins were pink and purple, unlike his brother’s.  His vental scales were silver, as his name suggested, as opposed to Extraordinaire’s paler silver.  And, of course, his tail was unmarked by a skill emblem, as of yet. “Could you watch the Boutique for me for a while?  Oh, and take care of Jasper, would you?  I’m going to be out for a bit; a couple hours at most.  Can you do that for me?” Silver nodded enthusiastically. “Sure! I can watch the place for a couple hours.  I’ll make sure to take care of Jasper for you, don’t worry.”  The aforementioned persian cat looked up at Extraordinaire with a piteous meow, eyeing Silver with what Extraordinaire could have sworn was distrust, and hissed.  The young Dragonling, however, seemed to not notice exactly what the cat thought of him, and hugged the cat tightly, ignoring the cat’s whines of protest. “We’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Extraordinaire raised an eyebrow, and was halfway tempted to rescue his cat from the clutches of his brother, but thought better of it.  After all, what’s the worst that could happen?  “Alright.  Mind the Boutique while I’m gone, okay?”  With another nod from his brother and another meow of protest from his cat, he turned around, and headed out the door.