Chapter Text
In the morning Jester pulls a skirt from the paper beneath her feet. She drapes it over the crook of her elbow; the fabric, light and two-layered, flows over her forearm and onto the floor as she carries it across the room.
“For you,” she announces, and grins, holding it out toward Caduceus. “It’s not a dress, but, I thought maybe right now a skirt might be nice too, you know? Like, go with more things. And then we can go and buy dresses, or fabric to make them, if you want.”
“Oh.” Caduceus nods as she takes the skirt in both hands. She hugs it against her chest, face all hot. There aren’t any words in her throat, just warmth beneath her skin and fur, as she runs her fingers over the soft fabric, over the seams, and the deeper green ribbon tie at each side.
“Thank — thank you,” she manages, eventually. “Thank you so much.”
Jester dances where she stands and wraps her arms tight around Caduceus’ ribs.
✷
In her room, Caduceus keeps on holding the skirt for a while. Just holds it, sort of overwhelmed by the fluttering in her chest. Sort of — Wow, that’s a lot. And she supposes its a good a lot because she can’t stop herself from smiling.
She pulls her nightgown up and over her head, tosses it to the bed, to be folded later, and then steps into the skirt, pulling it carefully up and over her hips. She slips her tail through a slit at the back and ties the ribbons at the sides, to sit it nicely on her waist. And then she needs a shirt to wear, so she finds a pine-green top that wraps round her torso and ties at the side, sleeves long enough to comfortably cover her hands — they even have nifty thumb-holes.
The skirt flows gently down to Caduceus’ shins. It’s airy, with two layers and short slits at either hem-side, for more movement, maybe, better crouching. It also just looks nice, more varied, she supposes as she turns back and forth, and then tries a careful spin and — Oh. Oh oh oh. She flaps her hands in front of her chest, flaps them by her sides and does another little spin. Oh, wow!
She’s not sure what to do with the energy inside, shaking her hands and legs, so she searches for other things, more to layer, because its cold-ish, and a skirt with nothing under will get draughty. First there’s untangling stirrup-leggings from her trousers and wriggling them on beneath (with a bit of layer reorganisation afterwards), then there’s pulling a wool robe from her pack and shrugging it on too, and then she looks all cosy and smily in the mirror leant against the wall, hair not brushed yet, and that’s — Yeah. Really nice.
So nice.
✷
“Aw you look so good!!” Jester exclaims, when she returns to the designated lounge, on her way to make breakfast. She follows, suggesting stockings to wear beneath it, as she eats blueberries from a tiny painted bowl. “Y’know, if you don’t always want to wear leggings… But if you only wear stockings then undies are super important, especially when we go to the sea where it’s all windy.”
Despite her stubbornness, and the strange texture, Caduceus is inclined to agree.
(There’s time to buy things, Jester assures, before they’ll leave to return to Nicodranas.)
Which is good, because Caduceus has only really worn a skirt at home before, lying in the grass in the garden, or to bed every night, she supposes, remembering her nightgown. Trousers and leggings are just easier, is the thing. More practical. And her legs get cold otherwise.
✷
The sky is deep blue and dizzying, the cliffs beige and dressed with yellow grasses. Beyond the breakers is a small white sailboat, Fjord inside, easily steering the rudder as it crests over the swells. Above, terns swoop down to land on the rocks, just out of reach of the crashing waves.
Caduceus stands in the sand with her skirt tugging at her bare legs, sinking her paws into the sand, and watches the fabric billow and dance about her knees.
After a time she pulls the hem of her skirt through her legs and up, tucking it into the tied waist so she can wade further into the sea and along the half-moon curve of the beach, to say hello to Jester, paddling around in her bloomers.
The water’s cold, not yet heated by the summer months, despite the coast’s near constant warmth. It’s still the ocean after all, full of cold water. Full of rain and salt, and ice. (Though, he’s not sure it ever gets cold enough for ice this far south…) Caduceus hums and thinks about the bottom of it all, too dark and heavy, and the glowing tiny things that live there.
“Hi, Caduceus,” Jester calls when she notices her nearing.
“Hello,” Caduceus replies. She glances up (only slightly), regarding her with a smile before looking down at her feet again, so as not to trip.
“Want to go swimming?” Jester asks, stretching and blinking in the sun.
“It’s sort of cold.”
“Yeah…” Jester agrees. “It’s so much warmer after summertime is done… Beau and Yasha are so much braver than us.” She looks up at Caduceus and grins with worried eyebrows. “You’re basically shivering.”
“Well… I get cold easily,” Caduceus replies. “Without all the layers.”
Jester reaches for her hands when she’s close enough and holds them in hers. “I know! See, your hands are so chilly, even compared to mine. Don’t even get me started on your feet — they’re like ice and snow, basically.”
Caduceus looks down at her paws in the shallows, the foam of broken waves swirling round her ankles. They’re half sunken into the soft sand, pale fur on pale turquoise water. And her head’s spinning just a little.
Jester’s right — circulation isn’t her body’s strong suit. Neither is not hurting.
Which, is maybe why she can suddenly really feel the ache in her knees — the looseness despite the braces — and the stumbling of her body each time the foamy water rolls up the shoreline and draws out again.
“I think maybe we can swim later,” she says. “I think, just now, I might need to lay down for a while.”
Jester gives a familiar, acknowledging, nod. “Oh, sure! Need any help back?”
Caduceus sways in the waves. “I think that might be a good idea,” she replies.
So Jester lets her lean on her solid shoulder, sharp hipbone digging in, as they wade back up the shore. Through stringy seaweed, pink shells, and up and over a gradual berm until they reach the drier sand. And she really is dizzy now…
Must be turning to one of those days.
(Must be all the sun, despite her straw hat.)
(It reflects off the white sand, she supposes, squinting.)
Before the beach gets rocky, tucked between two sandstone outcroppings, Veth is sunbathing on their blankets. She props herself up on her elbows when Jester calls out to her, scoots over as they reach her, moving everyone else’s things out the way too.
Caduceus lets herself be sat down, then laid down, on the picnic blanket, on her side with her head on Jester’s knees. She untucks her skirt from its waistband and flattens out the creases, holding the hem between her knees in case of a strong breeze. For a moment or two she just lies there, waiting out the dizziness. It feels a little like her body will sink through the blanket, into the warm sand beneath, her limbs are so heavy.
“Is that helping?” Jester asks.
Caduceus nods slowly. “Oh, yeah. Yeah.” She nods slow. “Good to lie down.”
“That’s good.”
“Mhm..” she agrees, and closes her eyes as her thoughts wonder. To the wide open sky, to the salty air in her hair and her skirt, to the niceness of wearing one, of trying something new, just because. And then there’s the dresses Jester mentioned, that they can make or buy. And, maybe, they could even make something a little like what Ma wears, because then it’d be like home too, smelling like peat, fir and willow. A sort of wool apron dress, draped over a shift with long sleeves, with pockets for gardening tools and seeds.
Yeah. She nods to herself. Yeah… That’d be nice.
Jester’s hand strokes gently down her braided hair as she moves, as if to check that she’s alright. Just to make sure.
“Jester?”
“Ya?” she replies. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I was just thinking….” And what was she thinking about.. skirts and dresses, Ma’s robes... “Just about dresses.”
“Did you think of some specific things to try out?” Jester asks, fingers tracing a smaller braid, in front of a long ear. “Like, different styles and stuff. When you’re feeling better of course.”
“Kinda… I’d like that.” She itches her nose, right between the eyebrows as Jester reaches for the woven bag they’d all brought with them. From it she pulls a paper box of lokum, dried mango slices and clementines, because the sugar helps with the dizziness. She peels and parts a clementine into segments, passing them around. Caduceus takes two and chews both at once, bursting them between her teeth. Jester passes the last one to Veth, who’s lying with her eyes closed, setting it gently in her hand. And she must be very asleep because Jester digs orange shell from the sand and uses them to cover each of her nipples without her even twitching. She looks like the carved women-fish on the front of the ships.
And Jester is giggling, mouth covered, so hard that is shakes Caduceus. She grins with her tired eyes closed, and keeps her skirt tucked between knees, just in case. And she considers the clumsiness of it all — her thrown-together outfits, her braid undoing itself, and her awkwardly fitting underwear — and that maybe it’s all okay. She’s deciding it is, anyway. Seeing as it’s only her first try.