Salem stared up at the fabric store, and then glowered at Summer from under her witch hat. "I don't recall saying I wanted to become a seamstress, Summer."

Oh how Summer wanted to pinch those cute, pouting cheeks of hers, but she refrained. For now. "I know, but since we need to get you some new clothes anyways, I thought we could also pick up some sewing supplies. This place has both and the owner is rather nice."

"You really expect me to lower myself to knit for fun?" Salem put her hands on her hips.

"I expect a little girl with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling will find herself bored very fast." It happened all the time with Yang. She definitely got that from Raven.

Salem gave her a bemused look. "I've spent centuries doing almost nothing, what is one more day? But if you're so sure, then perhaps I shall indulge you, if only to prove you wrong." Without missing a beat, Salem pushed open the door, setting off the chime, and walked in like she was the Queen of Remnant. It was an adorable shame that her diminutive size made her more a pint-sized Princess of Patch, but Summer wasn't about to tell her that.

The store itself wasn't small, but it wasn't terribly big either. Perhaps it was the rows of cloth bolts jutting out along the back wall that gave the room a much smaller feel to it. Much of the floor itself was taken up by a multitude of racks, strewn about almost haphazardly yet organized enough for a casual shopper to find their quarry. The cashier's stand was near the door, manned by an elderly goat faunus woman that tended to dip into the stock often if the used supplies around her were any indication. Her experienced hands were quickly knitting together what might be a scarf, but it was too short to tell.

"Hello, dears," the matron bleated out. Her eyes lit up upon seeing them. "Oh my! Summer, you're back sooner than I expected. Has Yang already outgrown her shirts? I'm telling you, that girl will be a beanpole one day. Mark my words!" She waved one of her knitting needles in friendly warning. Having had quite a few children of her own, Mrs. Angora would often spread her advice among the wives and mothers of Patch, regardless of if they wanted it. But no one could deny her decades of experience when it came to finding clothes for growing tykes.

Summer shook her head. "Not yet, Mrs. Angora, but maybe next month. I'm here because this adorable grumpy pants here," Summer patted Salem's head, much to her indignation, "needs a new wardrobe."

Mrs. Angora looked down at Salem and then leaned forward a bit, eyes squinting through her glasses. "And who is this frightful looking girl?" she asked with trace amusement.

"She's my new daughter." Hmm, saying it aloud still sounded strange, but Summer hoped she would grow accustomed to it soon. "I found her after a Grimm attack and decided to adopt her." Not an outright lie, but anyone who's lived more than a few decades would pick up the implications. Mrs. Angora certainly did from the sympathetic smile on her face. Summer patted Salem on the back. "Why don't you introduce yourself?"

Salem scowled up at Summer but she stepped forward. Holding her head high and puffing out her chest, she proclaimed, "I am Salem, the Witch-Queen of Remnant. Bring me your finest dresses, seamstress."

Summer felt heat rise to her cheeks as the shock hit and the mortification consumed her. "Salem! Be polite!" She almost added something about respecting the elderly, but Salem would count as the eldest in the room, wouldn't she? "Ask again nicely."

Salem glowered up at Summer, but acquiesced. "I request your finest garments, seamstress."

"Say 'Please'," Summer hissed as she gave Salem a nudge in the side.

Salem huffed. "A queen makes demands as she pleases." She turned her head long enough to stick out her tongue.

Mrs. Angora, bless her heart, played along with the child's antics. "Oh dear me, a witch-queen!" She cupped her cheeks in surprise. "What kind of fine dresses do you want, your Highness?"

To Summer's silent surprise, Salem preened at the attention. "Elegant dresses befitting a queen, but tailored to strike fear in my enemies."

Mrs. Angora nodded along. "I'm not sure about the fear, but I do have some rather tasteful clothes befitting royalty. I'm sure you'll cut a terrifying look no matter what you wear."

"I will, won't I?" Salem's countenance turned awfully smug. "Show me these dresses and I shall judge them."

Summer watched as Mrs. Angora set down her crafts and led the way to the children's section, Salem following with head high as if this was a royal fitting. Once there, clothes swished and hangers clacked as outfits were carefully selected under the old goat's keen eye.

"I think some of these would be a good start." The bell on the front door jingled. "Oh, I should go see to that. Summer, how about you help your little queen? Changing rooms are in the back." The elder faunus pushed the stack of dresses into Summer's hands before scurrying off back to the front.

"You heard her. Assist your queen." Salem turned on her heel and headed for the changing rooms.

"I'll assist some manners into you, that's what I'm gonna do," Summer muttered as she followed.

Salem posed in front of the mirror with her latest outfit: a frilly, knee-length, black skirt and a crimson, cotton blouse with the words 'I'm the Queen' circled around a chess piece queen embroidered in black across the front. Her pointy witch hat didn't quite mesh fashionably with it, but Salem felt loathe to remove it. She was a Witch Queen and thus had to look the part of the Witch.

'Hmmm. Not bad. Surprisingly comfortable despite the lack of refinement I'm used to. And it sends my message clear as day,' Salem thought. But as nice as it was, the change in attire had brought back a problem she had thought long buried ages ago: her spindly legs.

Salem didn't consider herself a vain woman, but she never liked how her legs would always stick out of her old dresses, especially not when she grew up like a beanpole. Old, repressed memories bubbled up, reminding her of waking up during her younger years to discover that she grew yet another inch and that many of her clothes would have had to be hemmed out again or discarded entirely. To that end, she simply had every dress made for her go well past her feet. Walking without tripping over them was just another royal skill she had to learn. If there was one silver lining to living in her tower, it was that few saw her ungainly growth. Now if she could just get this skirt to move lower…

"Stop picking at it, it'll come loose." Summer batted Salem's hands away from the skirt and tried to readjust it on the girl's waist. "Don't you like this one?"

"It's adequate," Salem replied coolly. Thinking fast, she added, "But the skirt is far too short to be appropriate!" She was glad that Summer wasn't looking at her face to see the wince at such a weak excuse, and wiped it away before she could.

"Appropriate?" Summer parroted. She stared down at the face of Salem's reflection with skeptic disbelief. "Are you saying that you are a chaste, demure maiden?"

Salem's ego writhed in agony while externally her cheeks flushed with poorly concealed embarrassment. She mentally kicked herself for trading one dark secret for a false, yet possibly worse one. "I like long dresses," Salem said, picking at her skirt again. "You saw my wardrobe before you ransacked it. How many skirts did I have?"

"None that I can remember, but if you say so…" By her tone, Summer was barely convinced, but she moved on. "Anyways, I don't think you're going to find anything longer than that unless it's formal wear, and even then that might be pushing it."

"What's wrong with formal wear? I am a queen so surely it would be more suited for me than this." Salem gestured to her outfit.

Summer shook her head. "Except you're not a queen anymore, you're a little girl who needs to get outside more, and formal wear is too expensive for you to dirty up every day by running around. So it's either this skirt, or you wear pants to cover your precious ankles." Her tone turned teasing at the end, to which Salem scowled at her.

Pants were not an option. "Are you sure there aren't any other long skirts?"

"You'd need to ask Mrs. Angora, but I think it's fine. You'll definitely be the bee's knees with that outfit," Summer said.

"Preposterous!" Salem stopped picking at her skirt and whipped around. "I don't have any bee's knees! I have perfectly normal human knees! You have bee's knees!"

Silence echoed in the dressing room as Summer had a bemused look on her face. Salem, realizing what she said, marched past Summer towards the door. "I'll go ask the old goat."

Stewing in mortification as she marched, Salem soon ound the old goat lady, who was knitting away with hardly a care for the approaching dreaded Witch Queen. Salem was about to call out to her when she noticed the scarf pile on the counter. There were two fully knitted scarves with a third well past half finished in the woman's hands. Impossible, they hadn't been busy that long.

Even more disconcerting, upon closer inspection, was the level of detail in them. She grabbed one and held it up to see that it was patterned with little sheep going along the weave, as if they were running down the length of the scarf. There were even little fences at even lengths for the sheep to jump over. Honestly, it was more intricate than it had any right to be.

"Did you just make this?" Salem asked, waving the scarf.

The old goat spared her a glance before returning to her knitting. "I did. Do you like it?"

It was nice, but Salem had more pressing concerns. "What witchcraft did you do to make something this fancy and so quick?"

The needles stopped clicking together and the elderly lady blinked as she peered down at Salem. "Witchcraft? What do you mean, dear? Aren't you supposed to be the witch here?"

"My magic is for the total destruction of my enemies. I can call upon storms, sunder mountains, and fell great armies." Salem waved her arms about, conveying her grand words with grand gestures. It was only proper to display her full might, even when temporarily barred from it.

"Oh dear, how impressive. Summer will have her hands full with you growing up." Salem nodded proudly at that. "But doesn't that mean you can't create a single thing? Not even a scarf?"

"N-no," Salem grumbled out. Technically she could create with her magic, but it really only worked when destruction was the end goal. Such was the dilemma when magic was the Dark Brother's gift to mortals. "But you're making these pretty scarves at impossible speeds. How? Knitting is supposed to be slow and boring."

"'Slow and boring', hmm?" The elderly goat faunus' eyes twinkled with amusement. "What makes you say that?"

Salem rolled her eyes. "Because it's something old wives do when they can hardly move and need to pass the time with something other than gossip." If there was one thing Salem was sure would last forever, it would be wrinkled old women and their gossip. Of course, she was an exception to the rule, having no wrinkles or gossip to share.

Mrs. Angora's eyes grew wide, and then she laughed. It was a deep laughter that wheezed out like a leaking forge bellows, overworking her poor lungs for that bit of air. When she finally got herself steady, she spoke, "Oh you sweet Summer's child. You're certainly not wrong in that regard, but usually my grandchildren can't sit still enough to learn. Would you like to learn how to knit?"

"I want to know the secret of your scarf sorcery, that's all."

"Aye, but it won't make much sense if you don't know how to knit. You have to start with the basics first. Did you learn to run before you could walk? Once you know how to properly knit, I can tell you."

Salem frowned, but grudgingly agreed. She was not going to whine and be an impatient child. That is not what queens do. "Very well then, I accept. I will learn your magic and then I shall become a master of destruction and creation!" Take that, Brother Gods!

'I feel like I'm forgetting something,' Salem thought. She then mentally shrugged. 'Probably nothing important.'

Summer peered out again from behind the coat rack and smothered another giggle behind her hand as she snapped another picture on her scroll. This one with Salem's face scrunched in concentration as she attempted to start another row on her little scarf. Her tongue stuck out a bit as she moved her knitting needles around. A few taps later, the picture was sent off to Tai.

'I'm a Queen, Summer. I'm not a seamstress, Summer. I'd rather be bored than have a hobby, Summer.' Summer rolled her eyes. Salem was a queen of drama that's for sure. Made a whole fuss about not wanting a hobby only to fall into one after fussing about short skirts. 'I still can't believe that she has a sense of modesty, of all things.' Summer had been worried when Salem didn't return, but she had to restrain herself from jumping out for joy at the sight of Salem learning to knit. Honestly, Summer couldn't have planned this better. She had been ready to beg Mrs. Angora for help, but clearly that was no longer needed.

But as fun as it was to watch Salem struggle with strings, it was well past lunchtime. So she snuck up behind Salem and tapped her on the shoulder. "Having fun, Salem?"

Salem swiveled her head around. "Fun? There's no room for games when learning witchcraft. Magic is a delicate art and does not suffer fools. Behold!" Salem held up her half-knitted creation. "Once I learn the secrets of Mrs. Angora's creations, I shall be truly unstoppable."

Oh this was more adorable than Summer imagined. She had to resist her motherly urges, lest she upset the delicate balance before her. "Are you sure you can't stop for lunch?"

"Of course not. There's magic to be learned here." A dull roar filled the room from Salem's stomach. Without missing a beat, Salem said, "There appears to be a Beowolf outside. Why don't you go slay it? I'm busy here." Her eyes dared Salem to comment otherwise.

Summer looked up at the elderly Faunus. "I hope she hasn't been too much trouble."

"Nonsense, Summer. She's been so well behaved and quite eager to learn. More than my grandkids have been." Mrs. Angora chuckles. "Quite the sharp tongue on her too. She'll be a real terror when she grows up."

"Yeah, no kidding." Summer laughed, albeit a bit nervously. "Here, let me pay for the clothes. Salem, did you find those skirts you wanted?"

"Skirts?" Salem frowned, and then gasped. "I forgot!" She dropped her craft onto the counter, and then attempted to hop onto the counter to boost herself up. "Where are your long skirts? Ones that go to my feet?"

Mrs. Angora thought for a moment, and then said, "I'm afraid I don't have any in stock, dear."

Salem stopped her struggle, and almost fell back to the floor in distress. "What?"

"Most girls on Patch like wearing shorter skirts that don't get tangled up in bushes. But if you really want them, I can order some, or we could make it ourselves." Mrs. Angora leaned in and stage-whispered, "It can be part of our little 'magic training'."

"I'm not a seamstress. I'm a queen, a witch-queen." Salem fiercely pouted.

"But don't you want to weave some spells into your clothes?"

Salem blinked. "Can you do that?"

Mrs. Angora gave a cryptic smile that only elderly wisdom could pull off. "Only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Salem's expression shifted across the spectrum from wonder to excitement to scheming to smug. She then drew herself up regally and spoke, "Very well, I accept. Let us begin the lessons."

"Tomorrow," Summer interjected. "It's time to go home and have some lunch."

"No! I need my skirts now!"

Really, what a stubborn child, but Summer was starting to get an idea of how to entice her. It was a little underhanded, but it was adorable. "Don't you want to show Ruby and Yang your magic training results?"

Salem's eyes lit up with childish mischievous excitement, belying her indifferent posture. "I do need to show them my powers and assert my authority. My skirts can wait for another day, but I shall not be denied a second time." She started gathering her crafts. "I shall have to borrow these needles and thread if I'm to continue my work."

"Say 'Thank you, Mrs. Angora'," Summer said pointedly.

Salem glared back over her shoulder, to which Summer only stared back, awaiting the proper response. To Summer's surprise, Salem grudgingly capitulated, and said, "Your mentorship is well appreciated, Mrs. Angora."

"And I appreciate having someone to teach, dear," Mrs. Angora replied. "You did quite well for a beginner."

Salem preened at the praise and then walked out of the store. Summer quickly paid for everything and gave her thanks to the goat for putting up with Salem. She ought to get something nice for Mrs. Angora. Maybe flowers?

"Summer! I require food for a late lunch!" Salem called back at her.

Summer repressed a sigh, and idly wondered if Salem would eat a McGrimm's Joy Meal.

Salem allowed herself a satisfied chuckle as the door to the house opened and the welcoming cries of Ruby and Yang rang out. It was time for action. She swept up her crafts and hid them behind her back, and then gracefully walked up to meet the children. As expected, Yang's eyes turned wary, but Ruby's lit up with excitement.

"Hi, Salem!" she said. "What did you do today? Did you have fun? Did you play games? Did you go on an adventure?"

"Ruby, she probably sat in her room to do creepy witch things," Yang said.

The negativity just washed over Ruby and slid off, for all that it affected her outlook. "Like magic?" Ruby was almost vibrating in place. "Were you practicing magic, Salem?"

"Don't be silly, Ruby. Magic isn't real."

Salem cut in quick. "Magic is real, and for your information, I was practicing magic. A new form of magic!" Yang's eyes widened and Ruby's filled with excitement. Perfect. "Behold! The powers of creation!" Salem displayed her work from Mrs. Angora's tutelage. It was a rough start, she'd admit, but time lended to mastering skills. "I'm crafting an item that protects from the heat."

Ruby was in awe of her powers, as she should be. Yang, however…

"You knitted a potholder?" She smiled, but Salem didn't like that smile. It felt mocking.

Salem frowned. "No, I'm crafting a magic item. It's creation magic."

Yang snorted with laughter. "It's knitting. Did you go to that old goat lady's store or something?"

"Yes, I needed an expansion to my wardrobe," Salem said with a huff. "I just happened to also find a skilled teacher of creation magic."

Yang snorted. "Sure you did. What trick are you going to learn next? Pull a rabbit out of a hat you knitted?"

"Don't be absurd, I'm not some street performer. I shall probably be learning to enchant my crafts next time."

At that declaration, Yang broke out into a fit of laughter, which only renewed itself every time she looked at Salem.

"What's so funny?"

" . You -hahaha- really think that's magic? And you think you're some kind of witch?" She clutched her stomach as she roared again with laughter. "I thought you were creepy, but now you're just weird!" She continued laughing, walking off to the kitchen.

"Oh really? When I finish mastering this craft, don't come begging to me for one!" Salem yelled out after her. Stupid Yang. She'll show her. She'll show them all her new powers.

"What about me? Can I have one?"

Salem turned back to see a hopeful Ruby glance between her and her craft. She was ready to dismiss the girl right out of hand due to her silver eye status, but then paused to consider a few facts. First, like any practitioner of magic, Salem would need a test subject to try her creations out on. With the Grimm, she often used hapless intruders of her domain or a silver eyed warrior if she could acquire one. Second, Ruby believed her magic was real (if misinformed about its current state). Third, she wasn't Yang, and if Salem mastered her craft enough, Yang would gaze upon it and become hopelessly envious that she received no items while Ruby is showered in them. So with a careful smile upon her face, Salem said, "Of course you may. When I'm done that is. So long as you don't share them with Yang as she's being mean right now."

Ruby squealed and tackled Salem in a hug. "You're the best sister ever!"

'Sister?' Salem stared down with bemusement as she was trapped in the childish embrace. She had hardly been here a day and this child considered her a sister? Salem mentally scoffed. She was as naive as her mother if she thought Salem was here to play house. No, Salem may have taken up Summer's offer of lodging under the pretense of adoption, but she was most certainly not going to become attached to this life. It would pass like all things did, and attachments were a weakness she couldn't afford anymore.

A/N: Sorry this one took forever. I had to write, re-write, and re-write this chapter a lot. Even then, making any kind of progress felt like mining obsidian with a stone pickaxe. Like I said, Slice of Life fics aren't my forte, so please be patient with me on this. Now that we've gotten the first few days established, I'm thinking of fast forwarding a little bit and more often. A little birdie needs to show up soon and what kind of RWBY author would I be if I didn't let him suffer?