Fashion Emergency

Writers: Duskdog, Shawna
Date Posted: 30th October 2024

Characters: D'brul, D'boran
Description: D’brul’s best shirt has been ruined and it’s the day before the celebration, so he asks his brother to help.
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 2, day 6 of Turn 12

D’brul held up his “nice” shirt, frowning. He’d forgotten all about ripping it the last time he wore it, at Turn’s End. He couldn't even remember how he’d torn it, but recalled realizing it towards the end of the day, and telling himself he’d replace it or get it mended by someone who was much better at that than he was. He was decent enough at it, but that was when it came to his regular clothes, which he often wore until they were practically falling off of him, anyway, and so needed frequent mending. Waste not, want not, after all. This was his _one_ fancy gather shirt, and he couldn’t just show up to Barrier Lake’s official opening with a ripped or obviously-mended shirt!

He’d just have to borrow.

**Mogunth, can you--**

}:Yes,:{ The brown rumbled, anticipating the question. He didn’t understand what the big deal about shirts was, anyway (what was the point? Just be naked like dragons!), but ugh, _fine_.. }:Sondrith, where can we find your rider today? Mine has a favor to ask.:{

Sondrith’s voice came back almost immediately, }:We just got home. I’ll let him know you’re stopping by.:{ The green sounded a little tired, but pleased at the thought.

When the pair got to the dragonhealer’s weyr, D’boran was bustling about. There was a dirty shirt thrown over a chair, and he was opening and closing cupboards while muttering to himself. Eventually, he found two miss-matched mugs and turned to his brother. “Klah? We were on the night shift last night but I have things to do later.” His hair was wet and sticking up in all directions. “Did you need something?”

D’brul made a rumbling, amused sound as he took in D’boran’s state. “Are you sure you have time? You look like you’re between three things at once.” Without waiting for a reply, he held up his shirt. “My gather best is ruined, and I don’t have anything to wear to the celebration. Loan me a shirt?”

“No, this is perfect, I just got in.” He poured himself some klah and left the other mug on the table for D’brul to pour himself some of he chose.

“Sure, let's see what I've got, come on,” D’boran headed for his closet, drinking as he walked. Beginning to riffle through it, he said, “What did you do to your shirt? No. No. Maybe,” he threw a shirt over his shoulder in the vague direction of his brother. “No. No. Oh, this one doesn't fit me. Try this,” he offered over a dark colored shirt.

“I don’t even know,” D’brul lamented as he tossed his torn gather shirt down on the bed, pulled off his own (very much not fancy, regular everyday) shirt, and tried to maneuver his way into the new one that his brother had offered him. “Must’ve got it caught on something. I didn’t even notice until the end of the night.”

Getting the shirt on was… a struggle. The sleeves strained around his biceps, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring it around his chest all the way to button.

“You need to lift some more firestone sacks,” he concluded, fixing D’boran with a flat, peevish look, as if it were his fault.

“Or maybe you need to lay off the bubbly pies. Did you think of that?” D’boran countered. “Well, where did you rip the shirt? I'm excellent at stitches.” Surely stitching a shirt was the same as stitching a dragon.

“Right there, under the left arm. Goes almost all the way down,” D’brul said, waving at the torn shirt -- or trying to, anyway, as restricted as his arms were. He struggled to peel the new shirt off. “And I can stitch too! Plenty good enough to keep me in my straps. This just has to be… you know, _pretty_. Invisible I guess. Since it’s supposed to be a fancy shirt and all. I don’t wanna show up to our big day looking like a holdless bum! Can you do it _that_ good?”

“The dragons never complain about it.” He picked up the shirt and inspected the tear, “How did you not notice a draft? There’s a thought. Put a nice vest over it. Everyone will think you’ve refined your tastes.” Nevermind that it was far too hot for vests. “And why do you only have one nice shirt?”

“Because this one was _fine_! I don’t need two just to wear for Hatchings and celebrations. It’d be a waste!” It wasn’t the first time D’brul had complained about clothes. They served a purpose, that was all, and anything extra was a luxury that nobody needed, as far as he was concerned. “I don’t even own a vest. Wearing a shirt… thing… over a shirt is weird.” He watched D’boran examine the shirt pensively. “Can you fix it?”

“Have you never once gone on a second date?” D’boran asked, incredulous. “Of course I can fix it, just let me get my sewing kit.” He headed back to the main area of his weyr, pulling out a kit from a cupboard, “Why don’t you just go to the stores and see if they have a new shirt?” Even as he asked it, he started threading a needle.

“If you botch this, I will. And who expects you to wear a different nice shirt on every date?” D’brul demanded. “Sounds too high maintenance for me.” He narrows his eyes. “...sounds like something _you_ would expect.”

“At least every other date. I have standards,” D’boran said without any shame as he set to work on the shirt. It didn’t take long. It also didn’t come out particularly well, the stitches visible here or there where he hadn’t managed to keep them hidden in the seam. Holding it up, D’boran frowned, “Well. I wouldn’t wear this to the party.”

D’brul stared, horrified. “You said you could do it! What am I supposed to do now?”

D’boran turned the shirt around, trying to find an angle where it looked better, “I guess you’re heading to the store rooms to see if they have a shirt that will fit over your obnoxious fat arms.”

“Sounds like somebody’s jealous of my gains,” D’brul replied with a snort. But it looked like he’d be checking stores whether he liked it or not.

Last updated on the November 19th 2024

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Fashion Emergency