Chapter 7:
When Alira finally made it back to her room, she refused to think about what had happened. She opened the wardrobe immediately to see what clothing was there.
"What!" she cried. There weren't any robes, but for a pair of dove- gray ones that would be blasphemous for her to wear, as a mage of Lunitari. She nearly cursed. But, there are some mages that don't wear their robes all the time. Some only wear them on special occasions. Alira prayed fervently to Lunitari, apologizing fervently and explaining her situation. Her goddess was a merciful one, though, and Alira was fairly certain no vengeance would be taken.
There were many dresses, though as they were all Elven, they were all alluring. Alira finally settled on a red skirt and bodice, both chased at them hems and neckline with brown, green, and gold embroidery of birds and ivy. The dress fit perfectly, though its square neck was a source of discomfort. She had never had a chance to get used to truly womanish dresses, and this was the first she had worn. The neckline barely revealed a bit of cleavage, but it was enough to make her self-conscious. She forced herself to get used it, and eventually she did. She slid her feet into matching red slippers. Alira regarded herself in the mirror. She was lucky, for her waist was trim and slender, giving her an hourglass-shape despite her not-wide-enough hips. Her mother had always criticized her for not having what she called "child-bearing" hips. They were wide, but her mother claimed they were never wide enough. Alira couldn't have cared less, and still didn't. The plain clothing looked very good on her, though, and the red with her brown hair was pretty. The green thread in the embroidery looked perfect with her greenish-brown eyes, too. She sat on her bed after taking a good look at herself, and lay down, careful not to muss her dress, bedding, or hair.

Raistlin shook in his room. He could not believe what he had just done. He let his foolish emotion take control. Cursing himself, he flung the door to his plain wooden wardrobe open, and cursed louder when he saw the gray robes. He was going to have to wear the tight pants of the Elves. He wasn't used to such clothes, but he had no other choice. He pulled a plain red shirt from the closet, and a pair of brown pants. Raistlin dressed quickly, finally shoving his feet into his socks and boots.
He didn't know why there was a mirror, and before he realized it, he was looking into it. Raistlin felt a stab of hatred for his golden flesh, which looked odd in everything. But, no, it was the price he had paid for his ability. He forced himself to accept it. The pants were uncomfortably tight. But that was because he wasn't used to them. After stalking around his room, pacing and muttering about random things, he soon found that they were comfortable, and he didn't mutter about the clothes any more. Raistlin's room was devoid of all furniture but for a plain bed with gray bedding and pillow, and a plain desk with one hard chair. He yanked the chair out in bad temper, and sat in it.

Alira heard a light tap at her door.
"Come in." she called, not asking whom it was. She still dozed on her bed.
A small Elven maid came in, a silver tray in her hands, and set it down on the desk.
"Thank you, my regards to the cook." Alira said, slowly rising from the bed and walking to where the food was.
"Will you be eating with the, er, mage in the next room?" the maid asked. "He hasn't been given his food yet, in case the decision would be made that you two would dine together."
"Ask him first, it is his decision." She said, not wanting to be responsible for stirring any negative feelings.
She waited for the maid to disappear and return before saying or doing anything.
"He, ah, doesn't seem to be in the best temper. I'm afraid its your decision." The little maid came back in, looking scared. Alira decided that they would be eating together. She had to do something about his treatment of others. He was nice enough to her, but he scared the poor maid out of her wits.

Raistlin ended up sitting right in front of her at a small table in a large room. The room was lovely, but Alira didn't have the time to admire it. The meal was set in front of them. Human fare, not Elven, it was a simple but absolutely delightful beef stew with carrots, potatoes, and onion. The Elves managed to make even a common dish superb with some unknown technique.
She served herself first, surprised to see the utensils, plates, and serving vessel was all in fine quality silver.
As she took her first bite, she noticed that there was a bottle of wine on the table, and in their glasses was a deep red wine. She appreciated it, knowing that this was probably expensive wine, and took a sip of it.
Raistlin ate in silence.
"You scared the poor girl to death." Alira said, conversationally, spearing a potato.
"I was not in the best temperament."
"It seems as though you are always in a foul temperament."
"Not when I'm." he started, cutting himself off before his brash sentence could be finished.
"-With me?" Alira finished for him. "I know. It seems as though being forced to spend a few days with me has made you realize that being mean to me will just make the whole trip worse for you. But just because you aren't stuck with the Elves for a few more days doesn't mean you have to be rude. Please, will you make an attempt at kindness? I know you can."
It seemed as though the lecture she had planned was not needed. Raistlin was instantly better behaved. When an Elven man came and asked if he could borrow the wine (apparently another group dined on the far side of the room), Raistlin replied with a considerably more polite tone. Alira beamed at him.
"See, you can be nice! Anyway, the plan, as far as I've thought of it, is simple. We leave tomorrow, according to the Elves; the weather should be much nicer. We journey to Solace, and find out what we were supposed to be told. As far as I know, that's where we change courses. I go back to the Tower, you do whatever else there is to do." She said around a mouthful. She could have sworn his face seemed to fall.
"You look nice in the dress." He said, trying to be polite and conversational. She beamed at him, though her smile faltered at first.
"Thank you, you look very nice too. Perhaps you should wear clothing under your robes as well." She said mischievously.
He smiled and they laughed. When Alira glanced over at the next table, she saw the Elves there were staring in wonder at the laughing mages. Alira thought, triumphantly, that they probably recognized Raistlin and were surprised to see him laughing.
See, he is a decent person! She felt like calling to them, nearly bursting.
"You." Raistlin started awkwardly.
"What, now that you've started learning how to compliment people, you're stumbling over a simpler sentence?" Alira joked. He chuckled with her.
"I was going to say that you have a very nice laugh."
Alira felt as though he had thrown something at her head. In a way he did. She realized the motive behind his behavior. It was the only possible motive, and at first she couldn't believe it.
He liked her.
A lot.
Another thing hit her, even harder than the first.
She liked him.
A lot.
She kept chewing, though, pretending as though nothing had changed.
"Thank you. It's nice to hear you laugh, too. You don't smile often, but its nice when you do."
The time for compliments ended as soon as it began. The two of them soon became absorbed in a random conversation about quills and ink. Raistlin was telling her that his favorite feather was eagle, though it was a common favorite. Even Alira liked it, and she abhorred the killing of eagles for quills.

They went to bed that night in their respective rooms, with something knew to think on.
Alira didn't fall asleep until very late, her thoughts tormenting her.
Raistlin fell asleep with a grin on his face.