A Royal Pain in the Ball ✓

Chapter 14 - The Dress of her Doom

"I do not want this." She clearly stated as she returned the dress to his arms with a pack on the chest.

"But you have rejected most of my offers. Most of which you do not find your own liking. And now you don't want this. So what is it?"

"It is too. Fashion ribboned, and colorful. I just want a casual outfit of top and the bottom pants, okay?" She folded her arms, a slight spun with a slight pout of eerie disappointment.

"For the last time, we do not have 'casual' outfit nearby. The only thing available in the shops are skirts, cardigans, or the dresses for a daily wear and some are very suitable for an out wear." He repeated, clearly despicable in his own explanation as he tried to get to her thoughts that she should've just buy one and they're out of the store.

To which she stared flatly at him.

"I do not. Want dresses, or frills, or pink skirts. I just want a one set outfit of casual shirt like a normal human being." She replied.

"But then why did you go to the ball if you don't like dresses that much, huh?" He asked, a blatant argument.

"I just.. wanted some air for a change, you know. I wanted some activity to my schedule, and you seemed to be there to invite me in." She shrugged.

So, what are we going to do here?" He offered. As he raised another eyebrow of the day. As she didn't spoke, or wanted to do anything she stood there her legs frozen across him, as he broke the silence with a question she merely doesn't want to answer.

As he spoke and her gaze brought in her line of vision and, her brian. That the available dresses were with cut-out shoulders, or up to the wrists, or even off covered with which she imagined were scarce on the back.

Revealing too much skin and wind to go breeze through. She shivered at the thought. She played with her lips. The action made her mind pegs move for a bit and make something out of the momentary accusation of having no sense of morality or womenly traits, or a proper fashion mode to wear for a mall for royals that were high up in her league and she didn't have anything to do, or much of a choice than to either pick one and get on with the wearings of her dress. Of doom to her life and youth.

She bit the inside of her cheek and decided to pick the most lowest, but elegant dress that she could.

One with pink and light. Or just a tangy old dress that wouldn't he wouldn't  seem to be too embarrassed for her to buy and bring out of the cashier.

Her eyes trailed off and before she could even have one more second of time, she saw him from the corner of her eye that he started to move. His motion of picking out a dress outfit for himself out of his way. It seems. He was first. And she was second- and last. As she watched him pick a single outfit and moved his hand to pick it out of the loot.

She hoped in an instant that he wouldn't pick out a dress so ugly for her to wear that she would just die and  succumb to her early days of proper arrival of his country.

Wait, is this his country?

She froze as her eyes went wide open, staring right at him as he held a rack of a single piece in his hand.

He seems to be in slow motion.
But as she forgot they were not going to the mall. -He was just trying to find her a decent outfit to wear on her daily  hours of her life. To which she didn't disagree, but didn't totally agree to comply to completely in agreeing and buy a whole new outfit, that would be so- that's way out of her league.

All that would be so priss and kneaded primmed and proper that it would fit her instantly all too well in her own body of a muscly walking meat and bones.