“Ooh, boutiques,” Cyg said, sucking down an over-priced, over-sweetened raspberry flavored ice… drink… thing, head tilted in pondering thought. There was a lot to be said about a reliable paycheck-- and low rent-- and, just, generally how freeing it was to be financially stable. “Sounds expensive.”

Cyg owed Elisabeth a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Expensive dates in Slateport aside, the Fiorelli Florestry job was quite possibly the biggest break Cyg’d had in her whole life. She was actually accruing a savings, without a huge chunk of it having to go to union dues, and could afford to take a day off once in a while. Like, today.

The clothes on display were a number of spring offerings in a mix of cropped cuts and vibrant patterns. There were also a number of woven baskets stuffed with perfumes, facial care items, and small trinkets, like earrings.

“I’m wondering what I may need more of,” Cyg said, always practical in the face of spending money. “Like-- like a suit? Would wearing a suit on deliveries make the company look better?” She tipped her cup towards a powder blue three-piece woman’s suit on a display just inside the door. Styled with nude pumps and big, ombre sunglasses, it was a statement piece, without being overly loud.

“I value your opinion to the highest degree,” Cyg said. “Please feel free to tell me I have terrible taste.”

⚰︎ elisa/cyg shopping trip GO | WEARING / HAIR

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Cyg nodded along with Elisa’s statements. “Yeah, it would be nice to have some in a pair that actually fit that I don’t have to shove cotton balls in to keep on my foot,” she said, thinking back to the pointy, silver heels she’d worn on their Slateport date.

“Aw, I think you’d look great in a suit,” Cyg said, the emotion in her voice genuine. “Like, terrifying, and a bit out of character, but great.” Elisa definitely suited her chosen wardrobe of florals and flowing fabrics better-- it made her into something ethereal and eternal. Elven. But she could pull off anything, that was for sure.

They entered the store and the shopkeep at the front beamed at them with that fake, service industry smile. Welcome! Let us know if we can help!

“Thanks,” Cyg said, mentally reminding herself to not spill raspberry on any of the expensive clothing items. She pointed at the Calvin Klein pumps-- the Louboutin of the working class-- and asked, “Actually, do you have these in a size 8 ½?”

The floor manager’s face fell. “I think that line it only goes up to a 7… sorry.” There was the briefest of glances down at Cyg’s feet, and though she kept her smile, her face was clear: sorry about your man-feet.

“Oh… that’s okay, I’ll find something else, thanks.” She was about to turn around and walk out of the store in embarrassment when her eyes landed on something distant and pink on a mannequin in the back, complete with flower crown. “OMG Elisa look.” Cyg zoomed to the item of her fascination, a silken pink empire-wasted off the shoulder dress in floral butterfly print.

“And the flower crown,” Cyg whispered dramatically, pointing at the headpiece of faux magnolias and cherry blossoms-- things she knew now thanks to her job. “It’s perfect for you.”

⚰︎ elisa/cyg shopping trip GO | WEARING / HAIR

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Cyg’s stomach dropped to the top of her plain Adidas kicks as she entertained the briefest of thoughts that, maybe, Elisa was embarrassed. After all, Cyg had just rushed through the store like a track runner with singular focus on this one object, kicking up a breeze that ruffled the hems of this spring’s offering of flesh-colored tanktops from where they sat folded on display tables. Elisa’s face had colored and Cyg’s look became pained. Tell me to fuck off. You can do that! I deserve it!

But Elisa acquiesced, and Cyg felt relief and horror in equal measure. She stood and slipped a tendril of blond hair from the crown of her scalp behind her ear. “Sorry. I got excited. I never really got to go shopping--” her voice tailed off as she swore she saw something pink dip behind the frosted glass of a store across the way. Then a gaggle of teenaged girls crossed her vision and she shook her head to clear the cobwebs.

After being ushered into the dressing space along with Elisa, a storeroom attendant brought out a collection of pumps in a variance of styles in Cyg’s appropriate size. Cyg was holding a lavender shoe with a modest 3” heel and a $175 dollar price tag in her hands when Elisa asked her if she saw anything she liked.

“Oh. Um. Hmm.” She spun the shoe in her hands, considering it deeply. “I’m having a crisis of identity. I don’t know if spring pastels are really my thing.” She was wearing thrifted gingham tweed, for god’s sake. Was baby’s breath blue really the next step up?

Cyg let her head fall back against the outside of the dressing room. “What about you?” she asked, eyes scanning the metallic, tiled ceiling, meeting the gaze of her own warped reflection. “What do you think about the dress?”

⚰︎ elisa/cyg shopping trip GO | WEARING / HAIR

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Cygne let her fingers trail over a selection of strappy gladiator heels in a variety of pastels. They were tempting, but not really her thing. “Eh, I always feel like a bad VSCO girl in pale colors,” she said absently, sort of listening to Elisabeth but more focused on feeling if she was brave enough to try something on.

She glanced down once more at her current outfit, black and white gingham with the green and red floral stitch applique on her hip. “Though take my opinion on fashion with a grain of salt, given that I look like a bad private school uniform right now, but,” she turned and found Elisa staring at her with a strange, blank expression on her face.

Thinking it was a motherly scold for being self-deprecating, Cyg let her head fall back with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Stop being so pathetic.” She turned to a nearby mannequin styled with a navy Valentino blazer embellished with golden V’s on the pocket; beneath it was a golden textured mini skirt and white and blue striped knit crop. “That dress looks really nice on you! You could wear it to an… an event. I’m sure you get invited to a lot of those.”

She took off her jacket and slid into the Valentino blazer, wiggling her shoulders. “What do you think-- oh.”

Elisa was gone.

⚰︎ elisa/cyg shopping trip GO | WEARING / HAIR

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Cyg had turned back to the rack, feeling slightly rattled that apparently Elisa didn’t really want to give her opinion on clothes. She got nervous, again, feeling like maybe she’d messed up by dragging her out for a day of shopping-- and forcing her into that pink dress. Even if Cyg thought it’d look perfect on Elisa, it wasn’t her place to make her employer-- her employer-- step out of her comfort zone. Maybe she’d completely gotten the wrong impression of their relationship.

She was shocked out of her thoughts by some lady screeching; at first, Cyg figured it was a Karen yelling at an employee for something dumb, so she turned with a pre-prepared look of blinding boredom, ready to hop to the defense of her fellow minimum-wage worker (she’d been one, too, once upon a time).

She took one step forward, raspberry drink poised in one hand like a sword, and froze when she realized she was staring at what appeared to be the back of her own head. There was a brief moment of uncanny valley where her mind was definitely treading water to try and figure out what the fuck was going on-- but she had the clearest vision of Elisa, her knight in shining armor, coming to her defense irregardless of what her-- her??-- crime may have been.

A soft smile crept across her face and warmth bloomed inside of her. Then, half a beat later, she worried she was PMSing because hello moodswings.

Still, someone dressed-- dressed??-- as her was doing weird, perverted things, and that was some shit up with which she would not put. She exchanged a glance with one of the floor attendants, whose eyes went wide and mouth dropped open in a silent, confused ‘O’; her gaze whipped back and forth between Cygne and Actually-Cygne with such speed, Cyg thought she’d get dizzy and fall over. Cyg shrugged, mouthed an apology-- though she didn’t know what the fuck she was apologizing for, honestly-- and stepped forward towards her doppleganger.

Up close, she was able to discern the pink tinge to the hair-- something, most likely, only she would’ve noticed, given how long she spent braiding it that day.

She tapped her double on the shoulder, causing the thing to turn and look at her with the same blank expression it had been wearing this entire time. Mid-drink, Cyg burst out laughing, and had to hurry to cover her mouth and nose to avoid spitting raspberry everywhere.

“I can see why you think it l-looks like me,” she said, a bit weak from mirth, as she tried to collect herself, “with the dumb look on its face.” She thought the whole situation was funny, mostly because she couldn’t actually discern what the fuck was going on.

⚰︎ elisa/cyg shopping trip GO | WEARING / HAIR

Elisabeth Fiorelli

There was a moment of revelation as Cyg swore she could almost hear Elisa’s attention zipping back and forth between not-Cygne and Cygne with the pipping of a ping-pong ball. The absurdity of the scene was helped along by the now-outed Ditto remorphing back into its original form with the sound Cyg would attribute to a wet zipper chewing through slime.

Fear dropped through Cyg’s throat and into her stomach as she worried Elisa would be mad-- although it was a ridiculous notion, as neither woman was much to blame for the theatrics happening in that boutique dressing room. No, the true culprit stared up at them, now, wobbling and wibbling with what Cyg could only assume was some sort of Ditto show of humor.

Then Elisa’s miraculous laughter tinkled out, bell-like, and the tension was drained like a lanced abscess. Cyg found herself relaxing, the angry woman giggled at herself, and everyone went back to what they were doing with a little bit more mirth in their day.

“Why are you apologizing?” Cyg asked, gentle. “I should be thanking you for jumping to defend my honor. Even if it wasn’t me.” She winked.

Elisa drew her attention back to the blazer she was still wearing; she looked down at the navy fabric, soft as night as is sluiced down her arms. “Y’know, I think I will get this,” she said, flipping up the price tag and only just slightly making a face. She exhaled to collect herself.

Elisa caught her off guard again when she asked about the pastel pink dress she’d tried on earlier. “Hey, I thought it looked awesome on you, so my vote is for yes, indulge. But only if you want to.”

⚰︎ elisa/cyg shopping trip GO | WEARING / HAIR

Elisabeth Fiorelli