This is a sequel (Written with premission) to Mythweaver's "Fashionable Diaster"
I couldn't resist...
Izayoi was furious.
Not that anyone could tell by looking at her, mind you. No, outward she was all calm collection, icy, even.
Inside she was a roiling mess of fiery wrath with a list of victims growing steadily longer the more the night wore on.
She'd already been tortured by more attention than she'd ever wanted, all thanks to this ridiculously horrid gown she was wearing.
Since they were in Damcyan, the attention she earned was in the forms of offering to write poems and songs about her. Izayoi wasn't sure if killing herself wouldn't be faster.
Her cousin was also on her list, having said more than one inane comment on the subject. And then there were the morons who had lost her normal clothing in the first place. They're deaths would be especially painful.
But she was seething the most to murder Kain. It was his fault, of course.
Her only consultation to this whole ordeal was that at least the dress she'd been forced into wearing wasn't printed with floral.
Izayoi kept hoping she could leave the party, but for once her cousin seemed intent on staying for the whole evening. She glared at him across the room. He just flashed her back a grin.
So it was on purpose. He was dead come morning.
Izayoi's thoughts were interrupted by yet another obnoxious guest of the event who asked her to dance. She tried not to cringe and made a mental note to tell Kain she most certainly did not enjoy the attention this dress was bringing her.
She was someone who lived in the shadows; both literally and figuratively. The last thing she wanted was to be the center of attention. And what awful attention it was, too.
Izayoi was rescued from having to either dance awkwardly with the man or find a suitable excused of why she couldn't, by someone grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the conversation.
She spun around and breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you Kain for the rescue. I'm sick of hearing mediocre singers try and rhyme with my name. Apparently dark hair is a novelty here." she huffed, giving her locks a toss over her shoulder.
Kain ignored her comments and hissed, "What the hell did you do to my hair?"
Izayoi grinned wickedly, "Braided it."
His eyes narrowed and she faked a pout, "Why? Are we having trouble getting it out? Don't tell me you're trying to worm your way out of this bet,"
He diverted his gaze, a sure sign of his guilt. She scowled at him and crossed her arms, "Kain, I think you've forgotten who you're dealing with. I'm a Geraldine. I wouldn't be here if I didn't know how to prevent people from cheating on deals. You do remember who my cousin is, right?"
"I know exactly who I'm dealing with," he retorted, frowning at her, "I really should have expected something so deceitful."
She smirked, "Yes, you should have."
Kain sighed, "Fine, so I was trying to unbraid my hair. What concerns me now is how do I get it out?"
"You don't." she said simply.
He glared at her, and, feeling generous, she elaborated, "I tied your hair into a traditional Eblanese marriage knot."
"You knotted my hair?!" Kain exclaimed, scandalized.
She rolled her eyes, "Vain, much?"
"Says the woman who spent the better part of entire day shopping and still wasn't satisfied." he countered.
Izayoi's eyes narrowed, "That isn't vanity. I needed something that would let me do my job."
"Vanity in a different form is still vanity." he informed her in a slightly sing-song tone. Izayoi wanted to punch him.
Instead, she gritted out, "And I notice you're not in black anymore."
"Look, just tell me how to get it out." Kain said, tone annoyed.
Her anger faded to be replaced by triumph; "You don't."
There was a moment where they simply stared at one another, and finally Izayoi spread her hands wide, "We had a wager, Kain Highwind. Until this dress comes off, your hair stays braided."
She deemed the conversation over and walked away, intent on finding a way to leave this function.
Kain, however, tossed one last comment out; "Alloy."
She turned around, puzzled, and he shrugged, "It rhymes."
She glared at him.
Kain was frustrated.
He needed a way to get Izayoi out of that dress so she had no choice but to remove this 'knot' she apparently put in his hair. According to Cuore, it was called a marriage knot because it required two people to get it out.
Also according to Cuore she was forbidden from helping him, though she did giggle at his expense.
He's options were few and far between, and the easiest he could think of was to find her original clothing and return it to her.
So he waited.
Finally, after a fairly long wait, Tsukinowa came down the hall, looking over his shoulder the whole time as if he expected to be ambushed from behind.
Kain suspected he was trying to avoid Izayoi.
He was so intent on looking everywhere but in front of him that he blinked when he finally saw Kain looming in the shadows.
The boy raised an eyebrow, "Um, hi. What are you doing?"
Kain wasted no time; "Izayoi's clothes. I need them. Now."
Tsukinowa barely choked back a snicker, feigning remorse, "Ah, didn't you hear? Those got sort of…misplaced."
Kain glared at him, "Even you aren't stupid enough to permanently destroy her clothing. I assume you've hidden it somewhere."
The boy hesitated and then shrugged, "And if I have?"
"I need it."
"How come?"
"Reasons."
"What reasons?"
Kain sighed, growing impatient, "Look crane boy, I don't have time for this. You know where they are, and you're going to tell me."
Tsukinowa pouted, "Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed…"
Kain sighed again but the boy grinned, "Alright, I guess I could tell you where they are, but you're not going to like it."
Kain had a feeling that statement would be true.
Izayoi had never been so glad to return to her room then that night. The only problem was, she'd have to do it all over again tomorrow.
She groaned.
As she rounded the final corner, she saw Kain leaning against the wall. His expression was anything but pleased and she raised an eyebrow, giving him a once over.
"What the hell happened to you?" she asked, noting the puddle that had formed at his feet and his somewhat disheveled appearance.
He glared at her and tossed her something, which she caught and looked up, brightening.
"My clothes!" she glanced at him, suddenly suspicious, "Where did you get these?"
"I don't want to talk about it." he grumbled, gesturing to her dress and then his hair, "Now, that comes off and this comes out."
Izayoi grinned, "You know, there were probably other ways to get me out of this thing,"
His expression was blank, so she rolled her eyes and opened her door, "Never mind."
She tossed the bag containing her belongs on the bed and then turned to face him, putting her hands on her hips.
"I lied."
He gave her a funny look and she sighed dramatically, "I can't get that out. I'll need scissors."
Kain's expression was horrified.
Izayoi laughed, feeling a pang of guilt for the joke when he glared at her so hard she thought he might melt the flesh off her bones.
"I'm sorry," she said, waving a hand at him, "I'm kidding, of course. Turn around."
Kain continued to glare at her for a second, but then did as she asked, sighing.
It took the two of them a few minutes to completely unravel his hair, and Izayoi nodded once it was done. "There, happy now?"
"Yes." Kain said, shooting her an annoyed look, "And you?"
"Well yes, I have my clothes back." she replied.
His lips twitched ever so slightly before he turned away and she narrowed her eyes, "Kain,"
"Goodnight." he said, ignoring her warning tone and bolting, shutting the door behind him.
Izayoi frowned and crossed her arms, wondering why he seemed too smug.
But then she checked on her clothes and discovered them in the same state he had been; wet, disheveled and mostly un-wearable.
"He's so dead." she hissed.
Mythweaver and I were discussing how Kain always gets the last jab in on all these Kizzy fics...one of these days I'll write one where Izayoi is the victor...
Anyway, I couldn't help myself but write this, so enjoy!
Also, it be romantic that he got her clothes from the passageway...if it wasn't purely for selfish reasons...