femslash february 2022 prompt 18: fashion.

One Tunic Fits All

If there was one color that Draco disliked, it was a particular shade worn by her rival. No matter where Draco went, no matter how many times they battled, Arle wore that same outfit. Hues of blue patterned her boots, skirt, shirt, and the occasional piece of armor. The white tunic would have been elegant if she didn't always pair it with that recurrent attire that started becoming an eyesore to Draco.

It was one of the several reasons why Draco switched up their ensemble. Her scarlet qipao was lovely, but she also enjoyed flowing pants and pastel hues. She refused to let her beauty become hindered by boring, similar clothing patterns, and she accessorized accordingly to enchant everyone who saw her.

But Arle baffled her. Every single day was the same for her. That muted blue hue was burned into Draco's retinas, haunting her even when she tried falling asleep. She tossed and turned in bed, her mind's eye seeing Arle in such drab, shabby clothing that one day, she finally snapped.

"And that's why I need your help," Draco proclaimed, her voice booming against the walls of the shop.

Witch clutched the ladle currently swirling in her cauldron. "I'd rather not get involved with your nonsense today. I have potions to brew."

Her tail thumped on the wooden floor. "Aw, c'mon, Witch! I promise you it's gonna be great! Just whip me up one of those bad boys, and I'll be on my way."

Clicking her tongue, she slowly shook her head. "Well, I like to be paid for my work and my wasted time. Otherwise, why should I help you? Out of the goodness of my heart?" She snorted and continued stirring. "I'll pass. You know the way out, Draco. Don't let the door hit your tail when you go."

A boisterous whine filled the shop as Draco clung to Witch's shoulders. She rocked from side to side, begging Witch to help. As Witch grumbled and quickened her mixing, Draco jostled her much faster until finally, Witch relented with an exasperated cry.

"Fine! Goodness, you're pushy," she snapped, leering over her shoulder.

Draco beamed. "Thanks, best friend!"

"Don't ever call me that." Witch directed her ladle to the assortment of potions lining the shelves. "Just go pick one of my pre-paid potions because I am still busy with actual work. They're going stale, so I might as well get rid of one of them. There must be something that should help your conundrum." Lifting up her nose, she dipped her ladle back into the bubbling brew. "You'll be my charity case for today. Now, leave me alone already.."

Draco flounced over to the oak shelves and squinted at the colorful potions. They were contained in glass cylinders. She scrutinized the labels, wishing Witch had used larger print, before pausing on a tall test tube filled with a bright cyan liquid. According to the label, it promised an immediate change of clothing. It would transform the user's attire into something fashionable in a puff of smoke after the contents were splashed on the old uniform. While it sounded far too good to be true, Draco was at the end of her wits, tightened the cork on top, and off she scampered to the door with the elixir.

"Don't come back, you freeloader," Witch playfully called, to which Draco blew a raspberry.

Draco made a beeline to the beach. She had seen Arle building a sandcastle with Carbuncle on her way to visit Witch and believed she still would be there. She was going to make Arle understand the importance of beauty, and if it took transforming her clothing into popular threads, then Draco was willing to risk Arle's temper.

She raced through the forest and skidded to a stop on the golden shoreline. She kicked up sand, spilling it in a wave on a lounging, suntanning Rulue. While Draco had lost valuable time escaping Minotauros' wrath, she eventually lost him near a rocky enclave. She peered out from behind a limestone structure and spotted Arle from her hiding spot, delighted to note she was still in the middle of making her extravagantly elaborate sandcastle with Carbuncle.

She uncorked the tube and tossed it over her shoulder. With a devious snicker, she whispered, "Oh, this is gonna be great."

With those ill-timed words, Draco raced over to Arle. Carbuncle noticed her first and uncertainly cooed. Dropping two seashells, Arle balked. She shouted Draco's name, who cackled as she charged, her mighty wings propelling her forward at unparalleled speeds.

As her arm reeled back, she exclaimed, "Arle! Today's the day you learn what real beauty is!"

But it was never meant to be.

All of a sudden, Minotauros erupted from the sand. He roared, his ax swinging high in the air, and Draco screamed. She dropped the potion, and it splashed on her qipao, leaving behind an inky stain. Arle and Carbuncle could only watch.

A puff of smoke exploded around Draco. She felt pieces of fabric shifting on her body. She rapidly flapped her arms, coughing and shivering as a chill ran down her legs. Her chest felt compressed as if something had suddenly been wrapped around it, and her bare legs met the cool sea breeze with goosebumps pricking her skin.

When Draco opened her eyes and waved away the smoke, she found Arle wearing a delighted expression. Minotauros, as if sensing he had done something wrong, quickly fled. Carbuncle perched up on Arle's shoulder, bobbing his ears in what Draco believed was approval.

"Whoa, Draco! I didn't know you liked my outfit that much," Arle said, crossing her arms.

Slowly, as she wrapped her head around what Arle said, she looked down at herself. There, instead of her qipao, was Arle's uniform. A white tunic and the same blue hue coating her skirt, shirt, boots, and even chest plate all fitted Draco's form. The outfit she had come to loathe fit her figure perfectly, and as the smell of sea salt wafted around her, Draco froze.

"Draco?" Arle waved her hand in front of her nose. "I hope you're not broken."

"Gugugu," Carbuncle deadpanned.

"No, I'm sure she's just in shock. She looks really pretty, though," Arle commented, and at the sound of flattery, Draco snapped to attention.

Just roll with it, Draco, she thought and broke into a wide grin. "Y-yeah! That's right! Blue is in now. So, you better stick with this outfit."

Arle tapped her finger to her chin. "Oh, hold on a second. I thought you were gonna teach me how real beauty worked. Are you saying you actually think I'm the epitome of it?" she sneered, brushing her fingers through her hair. Sticking her nose in the air, she cackled. "Because I guess that just makes me the prettiest girl on this island if the so-called beauty queen thinks so!"

"Gu gugu guuu!" Carbuncle cheered, bouncing on her shoulder.

Arle was her rival in many ways. In beauty, in combat, even if Arle saw her nothing more than a nuisance, Draco treasured what they shared. Because of Arle, Draco strove to perform at her best. She might have been weak at playing Puyo, but her fiery spells kept Arle on her toes, a compliment Draco treasured when Arle finally admitted it after a particularly fervent showdown.

But while she would have taken the accolades, hearing them laced with a jeer irked her. She went to remove her gloves only to realize they weren't present. She frowned, leering off in the distance, then she shouted, "Well, fine! A magic potion might think you're wearing something special, but I - I'm gonna Puyo Puyo some real fashion sense into you!"

Arle shrugged at Carbuncle and let him jump off. "Eh, whatever, Draco. Let's get it over with so I can go back to making my sandcastle."

Draco paused. She looked over Arle to the sandcastle, her eyes widening at the intricate, towering design of gargoyles perched on walls and various stones and seashells as windows. She glanced down at herself, then looked back to the sandcastle. Arle noticed her hesitation and proposed that they put aside their battle in favor of making the sandcastle together, already gathering her fallen seashells.

"Plus, it'll give me a chance to tell you about real fashion," Arle added, her snide tone not lost on Draco.

Rolling her eyes, she tugged at her chest plate. "Yeah, yeah, I'd mop the floor with you anyway, so be grateful I'm not…"

She trailed off purposefully. Standing next to Arle while wearing her uniform, she felt somehow special. It was like she was dressed in the garbs of a true heroine. It even smelled like Arle, mint and spice mingling together, and she wondered if she had been wrong when Arle smiled at her.

"You know, I might've teased you, but blue is a nice color on you. It brings out your wings," she said, and Draco's cheeks reddened.

"Hehe! Thanks. I guess I just needed to try it on," she admitted, returning Arle's smile, and she made a mental note to go shopping for anything and everything blue.

(Later, she had to wonder why Witch's potion specifically transformed her attire into a replica of Arle's.)