Drabble Four: Deryn Goes Shopping for a Dress

(AN: For the purpose of this story, Deryn's mother and aunts are in the U.S. for her wedding. Also, we do not own Leviathan.)

Furs and silks shrouded Deryn's view, the sidewalk and trees taking up everything else. High-pitched, chirpy voices, ones usually associated with an obsession with such clothes, were everywhere. The women had popped out of nowhere, ambushing the girl before her razor-sharp reflexes could kick in. When her aunties had an agenda, they would use every dirty little trick in the book to get it done.

"Oh Deryn," some cooed, looking over her uniform. Others disdainfully glanced at it, groaning, "Oh, Deryn…"

Applying for the Navy had been a painful process for the young woman. At first, it had only been with simple paperwork and physicals, confirming that she was indeed a woman in her prime, with an above-average height and an average weight. The recruiters were skeptical, having seen very few woman walk into their stations, and even more skeptical after examining her knee which was still recovering from the injury from so long ago. Deryn was, however, able to prove herself worthy to them. And thank goodness that she had.

Within a few weeks, a letter had come, addressed to her, Deryn Sharp, not Dylan, or her brother, or her mother… to her. With excitement, she tore it open, crossing her fingers and hoping with all her heart it was the final documentation required to officially enlist in the navy. However, her past, in which she hid her gender in another country's military, plus the slightly sketchy attainment of citizenship meant that there was even morepaperwork to be done. Today was her third time coming to the office, to be double- and triple-checked as a legitimate citizen. A headache was already pounding away inside her temple from the pointless questioning; seeing her sneaky aunties outside the building was the last thing she needed.

Alek was probably home. Maybe she could slip away and head to his apartment, maybe even grab some coffee with him. She missed her Dummkopf…

Each limb was being pulled in an opposite direction as her relatives shoved and pushed to grab their "favorite worst niece."

"Let go," she demanded, attempting to retract her limbs.

The scuffle and chaos finally ended, allowing the dazed and thoroughly exhausted girl to be placed safely on the ground.

"What are you doing here?" was the first of many questions to slip out of her mouth.

Her mother, a tall and busty woman, pushed her way to the front. She bore nearly no resemblance to her daughter. Deryn had allowed her hair to grow slightly, much to Alek's pleasure and her displeasure. Her mother, Frances Sharp, however, was much more feminine. High cheekbones were covered with heavy make-up and a prominent chin lead her through the small crowd of female relatives. Like Deryn, she had small eyes and a tiny nose.

When Deryn was first joining the British Air Service, her main concern were those feminine features she had inherited. That is where any resemblance ends, though. Frances had womanly curves and a voluptuous waist. Her bosom was huge, something Deryn's body never seemed to have the time for, despite being in prime health and adequately fed during her teenage years. Nearing her 20th birthday, her chest size left much to be desired.

Most of the time, it was blessing. Other times, when her inner feminine jealousies break free, she yearned for more.

The womanly figure was dressed in a light, long and pale dress, the color of an apricot. (A rotting apricot, really, but the color difference is easily mistakable.) The neckline was fairly modest, but her large chest nonetheless threatened to spill. Over that, she wore a dull, green shawl and on her head was perched a small-brimmed hat with a bird on it. Preserved birds on hats were all the fashion, according to her mother.

"Your wedding is coming up, darling," she said, circling the young woman, who was squirming uncomfortably, "and we must help you find the perfect gown. No daughter of mine will dress in slacks on her perfect day!"

In horror, Deryn's eyes widened. Of course, the textbook-perfect military wife was going to drag her daughter shopping. The deranged woman probably thought that Alek and her daughter had rented an entire ballroom for the reception and were planning on holding the wedding in some outdoor setting, with butterflies and doves released as they said their vows. Something romantic and corny like that.

The last thing Deryn needed was that fruit-resembling woman to give her fashion advice. She, despite dressing like someone of the opposite sex, had won over a man—no, a prince—while most of her aunties were either divorced or alone. The sharp-mouthed Sharp, thinking that her aunties' reactions would be funny, made that opinion audible.

The women flinched.

Her mother's eyes widened in shock, and a hand rose to slap her disobedient child.

Deryn, having experienced much worse, ducked under the hand, rammed her hands into her pocket and began to walk away.

"See you at the wedding," she casually called over her shoulder, leaving her family members frozen in shock.

One, however, un-froze and nearly tackled her from behind.

"Please," the auntie begged. "Your mother needs this. Having a son who is out fighting is so hard on her, her husband passed away, and you're the only daughter she has…"

In her opinion, what her mother needed was fewer tarts, not more involvement in the wedding-planning process. Then again, what did Deryn know? She was only a decorated veteran and the hero of many countries worldwide...

With a sigh, Deryn complied. She secretly hoped that they would say something rude to give her an opportunity to snap back at them, causing them to back off. Her sarcastic remarks had sent many people running for the hills, their skirts in hand to avoid getting them dirty.

The little entourage that she had managed to gather had shepherded her to a local seamstress, who seemed ready to shoo the peeping tom out of her store. Deryn, as most situations dictated, was forced to explain her gender. The woman was even more shocked to find out she was to be married that summer. Her jaw hit the ground when she confirmed that indeed, she was theDeryn Sharp who had stolen the heart of the former Prince of Austria-Hungary, Alek Ferdinand, who denounced his throne in her name. The seamstress' previously packed schedule suddenly opened up to accommodate the engaged woman and her crazy aunties.

Precise measurements were taken immediately. Deryn was forced to strip her comfortable uniform off, leaving her in her underclothes. Thankfully, the room in which all this took place was safely guarded from any passerbies. The seamstress, Marian, was chittering and humming as she worked, while Deryn's middle-aged aunties giggled like the school girls that they hadn't been for a good 30 years. The poking and prodding made Deryn's skin rise into goosebumps. At even the slightest touch, the airwoman would shrink away.

A few minutes later, the seamstress came out with multiple dresses slung over her arm and eagerly escorted the girl into a changing room. She shoved a dress into her arms, winked, and left the room.

Deryn stared at the white material in her arm. The silk material was embroidered with flowery designs and sparkly patches that depicted even more flowers. Other random sparkles and gems adorned the meshy silk in chaotic patterns. Groaning, Deryn began to search for an opening in the outfit. Eventually, after much cursing and muttering that her mother would have proclaimed unladylike, she found what she assumed was the place in which she was supposed to slip through. Reluctantly, she began to pull on the dress.

Within a few seconds, she realized was putting it on wrong the minute her lanky form was caught in tight fabric with no visible escape. The dress came off after a few more minutes. A nervous rap on the door startled the girl as she finallylocated the zipper.

"Ms. Sharp?"

"I'm almost ready," she grit through her teeth.

The sound of steps retreating was audible. Clenching her fists, Deryn grabbed the offensive material and stepped into it. The process was sped up once Deryn figured out which hole was meant for which limb. The zipper was on her right side as opposed to running the length of her back, which made it easier to zip up. Deryn was many things, but she was not a contortionist.

A mirror was propped up against the wall. Hesitantly, she rotated 90 degrees and looked at her reflection.

In some ways, Deryn was pleasantly surprised. Unlike many dresses she had forced into before, this one looked good on an abnormally tall woman such as herself. In truth, she was surprised that the seamstress had been able to find a dress for a person of her height. Even her non-existent figure was outlined, to make her look curvier than she truly was.

Nonetheless, the lacy, bedazzled sleeves did not hide her muscles nor her masculine arms, which, in their own way, were verycurvy. Usually, they were one of her favorite physical aspects, but in a dress, they looked completely out of place. Almost everything was. Her chest was flat, undoubtedly leaving more to be desired and pieces of fabric hung around, confused and uncertain where to go with so little anything.

Knowing it was no use self-pitying, brooding, or stalling any longer, Deryn walked out the changing room and into the adjacent room. Many woman stood up and attempted to coax their blonde-haired boy-girl out into direct light. Everyone backed away—except Deryn, of course—as Frances began her predator-like circling. Many looks flashed across her face, none of them pleasant.

Growling, Deryn demanded, "Just spit it out, Frances. I don't need anymore of these games you play to keep up your own self-image."

The woman drew in a sharp breath and turned away, mumbling something like, "Next one, please." Apparently, Frances had decided to let the comment slide. No doubt that her only daughter would snap if she dared to retort.

Before another snide comment could escape her, Deryn was shoved back into the room to try on another dress.

Unlike the other one, that's mesh-like coating irritated her skin, this one felt as soft as silk, which it was undoubtedly made of. It had longer sleeves, immediately presenting a problem: it was summer, and even Deryn knew wearing such material would not only be improper, but also extremely annoying.

"Barking spiders," she mumbled, beginning yet another expedition around the fabric to find the entrance to it. Thankfully, the zipper was not hidden from view, and a fairly obviously gap for the neck was found quickly. Her thin arms slipped through the long sleeves, which ended in round, ruffled cuffs. The sleeve itself was fairly plain up until the elbow, just an soft off-white color. From the elbow up, and there was some sort of sheer fabric (also itchy) that stopped at her collarbone. Again, some floral designs with sparkles—she was sotired of sparkles—were sprinkled about it. At her chest, a white corset was covered with the same embroidered material, ending right above her waist. Layered skirts flowed from the end of the top, each one ending abruptly, only to be replaced by a longer, more fluffy skirt, until the dress ended at the ground.

Without even glancing at the mirror, Deryn marched out of the small room, fully prepared to be criticized by Frances and her aunties. For whatever reason, most were much more in agreeance with this outfit, including her mother. However, after a shouting match between the two women, Deryn triumphantly marched back into the changing room to try on, as she put it, "A dress that won't make me sweaty enough to fill a piss-bucket." The vulgar comment had quickly resolved the debate, as all the aunties' jaws were on the ground, leaving them speechless.

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Her skin was raw and sore from slipping through silks, cotton, mesh, corset. furs, and a variety of other fabrics. Sitting still was impossible, with the overly energetic seamstress breathing down her neck and shoving more dresses at her than she could possibly try on. Their styles varied from "The Queen is coming to town!" to "Who needs decency anyway?" to "We just kind of sewed some white fabric together and stuck on some ribbons". Most were lacy and obnoxiously itchy, the others being so revealing that even Deryn refused to walk out of the room. (What sort of messed up lassie wore such shortskirts anyway? It wasn't like she had anything to show off, so what was the point in her trying them on?). At one point, she had dozed off on her chair, her half-zippered dress hanging loosely hanging around her.

After a few more dozen dresses, Deryn patience had turned to brimming hatred and extreme verbal violence. Even after begging her mother to allow her to wear her Air Service uniform, no compromise had been made. Any dress Deryn remotely appreciated was quickly dismissed with a wave of a hand, and any dress her mother adored, she thoroughly loathed.

"Come out, dear!" Frances called, her voice managing to stay upbeat and shrill even though theyhad been in the store for over four hours.

WIth an extremely audible sigh, Deryn plodded out the door, with a train following her for a feet before the door was able to close. The annoying thing made her dress may a ton more, and the friction it created across the carpet made twice as hard to walk. Everyone, however, found it beautiful and gorgeous, cooing and squealing over it. Yet again, Deryn's opinion was never once asked for in the little family debate.

"We'll take it!" a particularly loud aunty peeped. Frances and collective nodded in agreement, whispering amongst themselves, while Deryn's eyes widened in horror.

"I don't want this piece of—" she began to complain, only to be cut off by the seamstress' pestering. "We just need you to sign a few things, and this lovely masterpiece is yours!"

"How much is this even wo—"

The door slammed in the girl's face, nearly sending her sprawling to the ground. Regaining her balance and dusting off the dress, she sighed, grateful to be able to put on her trousers and blazer. Alek had often complained about the tight and constricting material in his dress shirts and coats. Obviously, the bloke had never been shoved into a dress that make it hard for you to breath while simultaneously increasing your chest through the magic of support, especially painful when one has no real chestto support.

Pulling and groaning, Deryn was finally able to pop out of the constraining fabric of her 'wedding gown.' She, however, was not a decorated officer for nothing.

The offending outfit was left in a pile (Let that stupid seamstress take care of it) as Deryn slipped out into the viewing room. All of the women had already filed out and into the owner's office to get the final documentation sorted out. The Air Service woman's consent was required to buy the dress, something she was not willing to provide.

Glancing around warily, Deryn snuck forwards, attempting to remain unnoticed. outside of the room was a hallway with a few similar-looking doors, leading to identical rooms. If one were to follow the corridor further to the right, one would find the office in which the women had crowded with their large outfits and larger bodies. Deryn chose the left, hoping to make a rapid exit before any of her family decided to turn their heads, and see their bride-to-be fleeing.

The hallway led back to the entryway and an exit. Barely managing to suppress a whoop of victory, Deryn, without giving the shop a second glance bolted outside and began to run towards her apartment. A grin blossomed on her face as she dodged the afternoon chaos of New York CIty. She lived in the Upper East SIde of Manhattan, while Alek had chosen to reside closer to his college, near Upper Manhattan, on the west side. Thankfully, the wedding gown was on Amsterdam Avenue, a road that led directly toward her apartment. Sure it would be a bit of a hike, considering the fact is was rush hour. Darwinist creatures and Clanker machines rolled and plodded down the street, mixing amongst themselves. Little, bug-like taxis (including bug taxis) were parked alongside the road, preparing to pick up commuters and drive them about the bustling city. Deryn searched her pockets as she slowed to a casual walk, realized she had no money, and continued to trudge onward.

Sure, the lady boffin had given her and Alek plenty of money to start up a life in America after they politely turn down her Zoological Society offer, but nonetheless, money was tight. Deryn had started working at the neighboring café, something she absolutely hated.

After a few turns. multiple shoves, and a few dozen curses muttered under her breath, Deryn had arrived at her apartment. She glanced around the sparsely furnished room, checked the time, and began to pack.

She needed to get away. Her aunties and mother had taken up residence in her home, much to her annoyance, and refused to leave. She needed to get away from them, somewhere they wouldn't ever find her. Since getting tickets and all the fake paper to cross the border into Canada would take too much time, she would have to settle with Alek's house.

I hope he's home, she thought wistfully. If there's one person who can tolerate my complaining, it's him.

Racing round her tiny, one bedroom apartment, Deryn attempted to pick up enough clothing to last her until the wedding. Most of her good clothing had been hidden while she was away, undoubtedly by Frances, so finding everything was hassle. Thankfully, Deryn's aunties were known for the bulbous form, and walking from Lincoln Square to her apartment would take awhile for them to traverse. Or waddle. Depending on whether or not they stopped to eat lunch.

Those aunties will never find me…Deryn mischievously thought, shoving as much as she could of her belongings into a briefcase.

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Sorry for forgetting this story existed.

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We wish you good tidings…

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Please don't kill us….

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