Challenge #01579-D118: Care and Attention to Detail
Something made for the buyer/giftee only, made to fit Them. -- Anon Guest
Getting used to a new Anywhere was an emotional task. Different customs. Different standards. Different ways of making clothing. Different standards of decency. And very different ways to treat people. This place... this new home of hers, was so very different from the home she still sickened for.
It started with the medical treatment. Waking up inside a medical coffin is no great for a claustrophobe. But... for the first time in her life... people listened. They accomodated. They treated her with respect and care.
The next thing to get used to was what they called underwear. The knickers were something she knew as "witches' britches" but skin tight and elastic. They clung like a second skin and, after a self-conscious half-hour, felt like they weren't there at all. The same went for the weird little crop top that was apparently made for all genders. T-shirt sleeves, and the length of the 'top' finished just below her ribcage. It lifted and supported her bosom without making it sweaty and, soon, also felt like it wasn't there. Unnervingly so.
Then came the day that she was paid off, and promoted to Ambassador. Her multiple skills also awarded her the title of JOAT, if she needed it, but she'd have to make her own rainbow coat for that.
The gift box contained her entire 'hero' outfit. For a second, she'd thought some poor soul had restored the shreds that survived the cross-dimensional rift[1]. But this stuff read as new. The grey pants were seamless, and made of the same stretchy/insulating stuff as the knickers. The boots were most likely not real leather. They wouldn't go to that much expense[2] for her. But it felt, smelled, and even acted like the real deal.
The shirt... could not be real silk. Someone clever had created something that made actual synthetic silk that was miles closer to the real thing than polyester. But once again, everything suggested it could be. Tempted, she Read the history of her garments as she put them on. Technicians were involved, but a craftsperson had tweaked things for a perfect fit.
And someone had taken the time for the intricate patterns of beads on her ambassadorial vest. It had to weigh pounds, but someone had taken all of the public reports and information about Shayde and looked deep into her jackdaw soul before they made something that glittered like a riverbed full of iron pyrite[3]. If everything else failed, she could probably rent herself out as a disco ball.
Nehru collars and the accompanying vests were difficult to make without multiple fitting sessions. Shayde knew this. Form-fitting without being restrictive. Tight, but not tight enough to curtail movement and breathing. Neat and fancy without being too ostentatious, despite the sparkling beads. And this one had those super-magnet fasteners that promised to never pop, loosen, or unfasten before the wearer was ready. Meaning that it had no visible means of closure.
Shayde emerged from the changing booth and pirouetted happily. She did not, as she daydreamed, scatter little spots of light all around her. Probably for the best, really. "I have got tae send the people who made this lot a cake," she grinned. "A big one."
"I'm moderately certain they'd prefer an endorsement," said Officer Marken. "We'll send the details to your personal data viewer. So long as you don't cause any... disturbances."
For 'disturbances', Shayde read, "Things that will make people complain about you, make my day longer, and my job harder." Policemen were the same all over the multiverse. "I promise tae try and play nice," she said, knowing that the 'try' would disturb Officer Marken for some significant time.
[1]: There is a space between dimensions, and it is filled with the debris from people/devices that failed to complete the breach in one way or another, and the souls of those who have been hated by their world. As you might guess, it's vastly unpleasant.
[2]: Because genuine leather costs include the lifetime of the cow in its Time value.
[3]: It's very true that all that glitters is not gold. Gold doesn't need to glitter. Everything else has more to prove about itself.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / shutterwolf]
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