Omen of a Bluebell

“It’s nice to see you again,” Cari says, grinning happily.

Her hand never releases mine though, offering a measure of reassurance I didn’t even know I needed until now.

I try to follow up, second and then triple guessing myself for a moment before one word finally escapes me.

“Hi.”

Oh, hells.

Her lips quirk ever so slightly, but quickly shifts her attention to Cari, the more functional of our duo.

“The pleasure is mine.” She sets her teacup down and stands, straightening herself up a bit before approaching us with steady steps. “I admit, I’m rather excited to have roommates, though I'll confess to not knowing much about you. I recall Emilia calling you her sister, but...”

I can already tell she’s probing, for whatever reason. Still, the idea that she’s interested in my relationships makes my heart flutter.

Just a bit.

I give her a mischievous grin, then freeze and wipe it from my face.

Can’t even tell what I’d normally do anymore, gods dammit.

“Oh, we’re not actually siblings,” Cari giggles. “We’re both orphans, so we kind of just adopted one another.”

Her hand tightens around my own and I return the gesture with a pleased smile.

“I see! That would explain how close you two seem. And what of you two? Is having me as your roommate going to pose any... problems?” she asks hesitantly, glancing at me.

Like she’s afraid of the answer.

“Of course not!” I say immediately. “You’re easy to like.”

Cari’s grip on my hand tightens dramatically.

“I mean get along with. As a roomate.”

Hells take me.

I want to fold, but instead I lock my smile in place and decide that the only way out is through.

“Besides,” I continue before the silence stretches, “this place is incredible. Honestly, you might have to drag us out kicking and screaming if you change your mind.”

I stiffly turn to stare a hole through the side of Cari’s head.

“Right, Cari?”

She stares straight ahead, utterly refusing to so much as glance my way. Her hand trembles, warning me that she’s dangerously close to her breaking point.

“R-right,” she manages, only barely choking back a laugh.

Bella watches us for a moment longer, and I will myself to remain calm.

After a moment—once Cari’s recovered a fraction of her composure—she continues.

“Aside from cleaning the place, I don’t see any issues. We’ll have to work out a chore rotation or something, because this place is... a lot.”

Bella scoffs a very 'as if' scoff, then chuckles.

Cari stiffens, indignance practically oozing from her.

Does Bella not... never mind, of course she doesn’t. She’s a Princess. She’s probably got a whole cadre of maids and butlers to serve her back at her home.

“Chores are important, you know,” Cari argues.

I nod along sagely.

Princess or not, she’ll have to do her part.

“It’s not like the cleaning will do itself, and with a place of this size—”

Bella holds a hand up to stop her mid chuckle. “No, no, it’s not that I’m unwilling. I’m laughing because you think there will be any chores to do in the first place.”

“Huh?” Cari and I say at once.

“This is the great Elderwynd Academy!” she continues, arms sweeping out. “You’ll need to get used to that, you adorable fox. Both of you will. There are maids and butlers to handle everything. Neither of you will ever raise a broom again for as long as you are here.”

Cari and I stiffen at that, but for wildly different reasons. Cari seems to be properly absorbing the implications of not needing to do menial chores ever again. At least so long as she’s here.

I, on the other hand, am trying to ensure my brain doesn’t fry itself while trying to process Bella’s sudden compliment.

Then there’s a knock at the door that immediately draws our attention.

Bella walks around us to open it, and on the other side is a small wolfkin woman draped in fabrics and measuring tape. She looks like a tornado ripped her through a tailoring shop, but the moment her eyes land on Cari and I, they brighten with dangerous intensity.

Crafter

Level ??

Great. Even their tailors are higher Tier than me.

“You must be Emilia and Cari! I’m Carmine, purveyor of fashion and one of the head tailors here at Elderwynd. I’m here to take your measurements and make every uniform you’ll need moving forward,” she says brightly.

Then she all but barges into the room, tail wagging furiously behind her as Bella steps aside with the weary expression of someone who’s dealt with her sort too many times.

The woman descends upon our living room like a natural disaster. Fabrics, enchanted pins, strips of shimmering cloth, and tailoring tools explode across the central table in a storm of organized chaos.

Bella quietly shuts the door while Carmine works herself into a frenzy.

Seconds later, the tailor spins back toward us.

“Right! Let’s make this quick. I’ve got dozens of uniforms to finish before the semester starts and entirely too little time to do it. This’ll just take a moment, then we can discuss styles, preferences, colors, all the fun bits!”

Bella’s expression shifts instantly.

“Lady Carmine, they’re—”

The tailor vanishes into a blur before she gets another word out.

***

Half an hour later, my tail is still so puffed out that it’s nearly twice it’s normal size, while Cari stands beside me with her arms crossed and wearing an expression that promises murder.

“She could have warned us,” Cari says flatly.

“She really could have,” I mutter, my cheeks still far too warm.

The worst part isn’t even the embarrassment. It’s the strange, frustrating, itchy thing that sits beneath it.

Some instinctual rule I didn’t even know I was following had been broken, and it deeply unsettled me.

One moment Carmine was talking, the next there were curtains everywhere, cool measuring tape sliding across bare skin while my posture was shifted this way and that before my brain could even catch up.

Nothing improper had really happened—at least not intentionally—but my instincts still recoiled from the entire experience.

I honestly don’t fully understand why it bothers me so much, which irritates me almost as much as the experience itself.

Bella clears her throat delicately from nearby.

“For what it’s worth,” she says carefully, “High-end noble tailors are often like that.”

Cari whips toward her.

“That’s normal?”

Bella hesitates.

“...The speed is normal. The lack of warning is not.”

That actually makes me feel marginally better. Very, very marginally.

Bella folds her hands neatly in front of herself, visibly choosing her next words carefully.

“Nobility often employ high-end tailors, whose Classes often rely on Skills for measurements. Especially the combat-oriented Classes. It’s faster and more precise than manual measuring, even with the aid of Passive Skills.”

She pauses for a breath, glancing between us as we listen intently.

“Though... normally, a girl’s first time, there’s more explanation beforehand. And company. My mother was there with me for my first few measurings, for instance.”

“But—but she just assumed!” Cari blurts.

Bella gives us both a meaningful look, motioning vaguely around the room.

“You are currently living in housing reserved almost exclusively for royalty and high nobility,” she says. “And Emilia...”

Her eyes flick briefly toward me before amusement softens her expression.

“You look very much like someone noble tailors would be accustomed to dressing.”

Heat immediately rushes into my face.

Gods damn her.

Cari huffs in annoyance.

Bella continues before either of us can recover.

“She likely thought that this wouldn’t have been your first time to a tailor. You’re both my age, and I’ve done this hundreds of times. With rush orders like this, privacy and speed are really all that’s considered—and she accomplished that.”

Bella sighs softly. “And before either of you try to stay upset, please remember that she apologized profusely the instant she realized. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone turn quite so pale in my life.”

I blink.

I’m okay with moving on at this point, as Cari and I have gotten the vast majority of our frustrations out by now. But my mind is stuck on one particular word.

“...Privacy?”

Bella looks confused for a moment.

“The curtains?”

I quirk a brow at her.

“You mean the damn-near sheer curtains?” I ask.

This time, she blushes.

To be fair, it’s not like anyone could have made out much behind the fabric walls the woman deployed, but still. Calling them ‘privacy’ curtains feels like a stretch.

Maybe I’m just being a prude, but I’d have preferred the heavy curtains the tailor in Bephis used over... whatever those were.

I give her a small smile.

“That was part of the problem, honestly,” I admit after a moment. “My estrus already has my instincts acting weird, and then all of that happened and...” I gesture vaguely with my tail, which is finally beginning to settle. “Well, yeah.”

Cari nods emphatically beside me.

Bella hums softly in thought.

“That does explain some things,” she says before seeming to realize she spoke out loud.

I narrow my eyes.

“...Some things?”

A faint flush touches her cheeks almost immediately.

“You’re rather... affectionate with women,” she says carefully.

Cari immediately chokes on air.

My ears flatten so hard they practically disappear into my hair.

“I—I’m not exactly trying to hide it!” I defend weakly.

Bella glances away, the tips of her ears joining her blush. “Yes. I had noticed.”

This woman is going to be the death of me.

Still, despite my embarrassment, the tension from earlier eases, and my tail finally starts returning to normal.

Bella steps closer then, close enough that I can feel warmth radiating from her.

“For what it’s worth,” she says quietly, “I do understand why it upset you.”

For a moment, I’m caught off guard.

“Even if I think you’re being a tiny bit dramatic,” she adds a heartbeat later.

Instantly, I feel betrayed.

Apparently it’s written all over my face, too, because Cari barks out a laugh while Bella’s composure cracks just enough for amusement to shine through.

“You’re awful,” I accuse.

Her eyes flick briefly toward my tail, which has now finally begun to settle.

“...I’m still rather fond of you regardless,” she says.

She freezes at the exact moment my heart tries to escape my chest.

Then Cari makes a strangled choking noise beside me, and color floods Bella’s face with terrifying speed. Despite it, she lifts her chin all cute and noble-like, refusing to retreat.

“I mean despite your dramatics,” she says quickly. “Not because of them.”

She’s too adorable. Why is she so sweet? Gods her eyes are pretty. I wonder if—

I snap down on the wandering thoughts with a vengeance, tearing them to metaphorical shreds before forcing myself to focus on anything other than the scent of spices that eats away at the edges of my mind.

Then I take out another vial of medicine and down it in one gulp. I can’t even be bothered to be discreet about it.

Cari, the absolute saint, offers me a distraction.

“I’m just glad we got her some decent clothes.”

With her help, I manage to tear my eyes away from Bella, instead turning to Cari with a scowl.

“What?” she asks innocently. “You can’t just wear pants all day, every day. You’re too pretty for that now.”

Bella begins to nod, then seems to catch herself with a twitch.

All three of them—Cari, Bella, and even Carmine—had teamed up against me when I asked for simple, and most importantly, comfortable uniforms. Apparently Cari’s newest life goal is to turn me into a dress-up doll.

Though... I had to admit they have good taste. And despite all the chaos, I was rather happy with the results.

After Carmine finished apologizing two or three dozen times, she actually explained how her skills worked as she began the process of designing our various school uniforms.

Apparently Exact Measures—and Skills like it—are prized across countless professions because of their speed and precision. But given the nature of the Skill, and the fact that it comes from the Combat Class, it tends to be a bit... invasive.

Blessedly, the other Skills were significantly less overwhelming. Most that were brought up were Passives, meant to help with sizing fabrics, adjusting patterns, visualizing finished outfits, or translating vague customer requests into something usable.

I’m also certain she has other Active Skills that just weren’t needed for her job. Given how fast she moved during the measurements, I’m sure one or, gods forbid, two of those are stat boosting Skills of some kind.

Hells, speed-based Classes are fucking terrifying...

Regardless, apparently my style choices are anathema to these women. Cari’s face turns flat when I let out an annoyed huff at the memory.

“Emi, you have over thirteen-hundred Charisma,” she says, her tone brooking no argument. “You will wear what makes you look good.”

I huff again, more petulantly this time.

She throws her hands up, giving up on me.

Bella chuckles. “Cari has the right of it, you know. You deserve to look your best.”

I narrow my eyes at her.

This whole Academy thing may have been a mistake, I decide. Scary Headmasters and Headmistresses, I can understand, but being forced to be fashionable every day?

For a fleeting moment, I wonder if it might be too late to run away into the Tunnels.

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