Archive of Our Own ^beta

…How dare she.

No really; the nerve of this girl! She’d been put up to this game, I just know it! This blasted father of hers helped in some way and now is trying to get her to pass off the work as her own like he’s spoiling some pampered pup! He just wants the clout of having a young seamstress in the family, so he's trying to get me to endorse her by doing the majority of the work himself.

…Wait, what am I saying? Trein’s a well-maintained man, but I’ve never had any indication he’s made his own clothes. Mended, possibly; probably had to learn how so he could help his daughters after the dear wife moved on, but that’s quite different from being able to design a whole ensemble straight from fabric yards and sketchbook pages. Much less one of that level of intricacy; that lacework was by no means perfect, but I can’t fault it as anything lower than seventy points even as it was a first attempt. Assuming the puppy was honestly in that claim.

The sisters, then! Yes, that’s it; that manicured mongrel had four extra hands guiding her. So that means the seventy points for the lace gets split three ways, maybe only two if it was just the older one helping. Combine that with the eighty-five points for color coordination, eighty for overall garment construction, then see how I’m feeling about the accessories she crafted to go along with it. And then there’s the shoes; I have to figure out where she got the shoes so I can fairly dock those points from the final averaging out. After all, there’s no possible way the pup cobbles as well as sews and designs…right?

…though…come to think of it, she did have all the signs of having overworked her wrists. She was moving her arms rather stiffly as well. I would also say she’s not nearly as good with a make-up brush as she is a measuring tape; I could see those bags under her eyes.

Also, if I recall, the sisters have actually been visiting the maternal-sides’ relatives since before I threw down this gauntlet on the girl. Not really much of a way they could have come on their own, since a man like Trein wouldn’t possibly let his daughters return home on their own from such a distance, magic or no. And…that look in the pup’s eyes…that utter exhaustion woven together with unadulterated pride…pride that can only come from when the work is entirely your own...

But…then…does this truly mean-?

“Divus, I certainly hope you’re not attempting to lose on purpose just to get away from the question you know is coming.” Trein’s voice breaks my thought before I can finish it.

Wha- lose on purpose? Ah; the game! I’ve been making moves without really thinking, so let us see…oh. Yes. I seem to have been rather careless with my pieces and put myself into quite the corner. I really must have looked quite unfocused and distracted for Trein to say anything. Ha. How amusing of me. A bit pathetic, considering I’m racking my brain over the possibility that a young girl barely older than I was when I started my interest in fashion could hand-make a head-to-toe outfit in less than two months, but it is a little funny. Well, better answer before this dear codger starts poking his nose in too deeply into my business.

“My dear Mozus, are you trying to imply I’m so scared of how you’ll react to my judgment of young Fiamma’s handiwork that I would willingly surrender my queen to you? I’m offended, sir; you know better than most that I don’t willingly surrender anything, much less a victory.”

“…so then what is your judgment? ” That man really does have one of the coldest stares I’ve ever bore witness to, but at least he seems to be backing off a bit. “Does the girl truly have a talent in these things, or have others simply been pityingly nice to my family?”

Hm…what can I say without giving away that Mozus quite possibly has a fashion progeny for an adopted pup that only needs to be reared properly to reach her highest potential?

“...She’ll get better once I take her into my tutelage.”