original: willowdale, chapter 3

[tiny_ninja]

 Title: Willowdale (Chapter 3: Sharing Clothes)
Rating: Teen (expect this to increase?)
Summary: They say everyone is welcome in the village of Willowdale — if you can find it.
Notes: Written for Build-A-Bingo at getyourwordsout It's also a writing exercise because I'm struggling to finish my other WIPs right now. Each chapter features a different BaB prompt. I also... haven't outlined this? So who knows where it's going, because I sure don't, but I do know I'm having fun.

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ]

3: Sharing Clothes

“There. You look so perfect, I could eat you up.” 

Merrilyn drapes a necklace against my throat. A teardrop pendant settles between my breasts. The dress she gives me fits like a dream — a deep burgundy silk with billowy sleeves with a black corset that makes my chest look like every teenage boy’s wet dream. While being laced into said corset was an experience, I can breathe just fine, not too tight, not too loose. 

“I can’t believe you just happened to have clothes in just my size,” I say, gazing at my reflection in the mirror. “Where I come from, sometimes it takes hunting through three stores before I find clothes I like and fit correctly.” Never mind finding jeans when companies can’t make anything in a standard size. 

“I’m sure Spiderbone informed you, but your arrival has been foretold,” Merrilyn explains. She allows me one last twirl before the mirror before placing a hand on my shoulder and guiding me to a seat. The stool is propped before the mirror so I can watch her work. “This falls under one of my many gifts.” 

“Preparing newcomers to see the mayor?” I guess. 

“Finding the proper outfit at the proper time,” she corrects. “I saw you in a vision. I knew what fabrics you’d love, what styles would compliment your body. My magic guided my scissors and my thread. I held onto the pieces for you.” 

A custom dress, just for me, made by someone who didn’t know when I’d get to Willowdale. “Pieces? There’s more than one dress?” 

She chuckles, a soft sound, but it sounds like victory to my ears. “I have a wardrobe full for you.” 

“You can’t possibly do this for everyone who comes.” It doesn’t make sense. I know I can’t be the first, otherwise there wouldn’t be legends about this place. She won’t have the space, I rationalize. 

“Aye, I do.” She grabs a brush from her vanity and works it through my hair. At the first stroke, I bite back a moan. It’s been too long since anyone brushed my hair for me. Or even touched it, aside from a haircut. “We don’t have new arrivals as often as you’d think, either. I think the last one was… a century ago? Something like that.” 

“A century?!” The word comes out as a squeak, and I flinch as the brush pulls harder. 

Her grip turns firm, holding me in place. “Time moves differently here. I will not hurt you, little one, but you must sit still. Surely your mother did this for you when you were little?” 

“Brush my hair? Once or twice. She stopped once I was big enough to do it on my own.” A lot of things stopped as soon as I was “big enough.” Perhaps my love of Willowdale and its legends come from a desire to hang onto one last part of my childhood, though those days are long past me. 

Merrilyn clicks her tongue. “Hmm. Disgraceful. But she is in that world, and you are in this one.” Setting the brush aside, she parts my hair and begins braiding, fingers quick and efficient. “Most of us came from somewhere else. Where we were… outsiders. Misunderstood. We have made this into our home, and now it’s your turn to do the same.” 

On one hand, it’s all I ever wanted — to escape my boring life and into the world of my dreams. But now, it occurs to me that I might never go back. No drinks with my friends, or movie dates with too-buttery popcorn. But also no catcalls on the subway, or nights learning to bake to impress someone I still haven’t met yet. 

“Do you miss it?” I ask, sounding like the little girl whose mother once braided her hair. “Where you came from?” 

Her hand stills, but only for a heartbeat. “I do not,” she says, the braids a touch tighter. “My kind were hunted almost to extinction. Had I stayed, I would have died long before now.” 

Questions linger on the tip of my tongue. Merrilyn isn’t human, that’s obvious, but then again, Willowdale welcomes everyone. At least, according to the legends. Surely she’s lost family and friends alike over the years. “I’m glad to know you’re safe here,” I say instead, “and I hope those fears have disappeared.” 

“It took time,” Merrilyn admits, “but healing always does. We all carry our burdens, some heavier than others.” She pauses. “You didn’t ask what I am.” 

“Does it matter?” To me, it would be rude, especially in a village where humans are the minority. “You’ve accepted me with kindness so far, which is what I care about.” 

She pins my braid into place and switches sides to work on another. They wrap around my head like a crown — or a halo. “And that is why you’ve been chosen. A kind heart in need of community, overlooked for far too long.” 

Merrilyn’s right, her words reminding me of what I’ve always known. It’s difficult — impossible, even — to support everyone without burning out. Yet, for all I try to help, I remain outside the center of the social circle. Present, but not vital. Liked, but not loved. 

Will things change now that I’m here, in a magical village from my fantasies? I hope so, for it means a brighter future than the dull life I left behind. There’s always that nugget of fear that, no matter where I go, I’ll fall into the same habits, that others will find a way to take advantage of my time, my generosity. 

If that’s the case, then I wouldn’t be here. I’d be back in my apartment, in my ratty pajamas, waiting for the power to come back on. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” I say, as strong as I can. If I say it enough, then maybe I’ll believe it, too. “There’s so much about life here that I don’t know. I want to explore everything.” 

“You will, in time,” Merrilyn promises. “But first, you must meet with the mayor. The guides will have shown her your purpose fully, and she’ll know the next steps. I’m just a seamstress.” 

“You mean, a magician,” I correct. “I’ve never had a dress fit me as well as this one does.” 

She chuckles. “Aye, but the witches have the real magic. I have a gift. One that faded into obscurity with my people, but I can preserve it here, where it will always be remembered.” 

Turning my head, she crosses one braid over another and pins it into place. Then she nudges my shoulder. “Take a look, sweet. Do you approve?” 

The braids are, indeed, a crown, tiny and delicate. I shake my head gently, but they hold in place as if glued instead of merely pinned. I’ve only ever had one elaborate hairstyle like this, for my senior prom, and that took two hours and at least a hundred bobby pins to make a pale version of what lies in the mirror now. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper. 

“You are beautiful.” She lays her hands on my shoulders. Her touch is firm but gentle, her sharp nails contrasting the soft fabric of my dress. “I merely accent what’s already there and bring it to the surface. My clothing is designed to do the same.” 

I never want to take this look off. I want to run through the street, just to feel the fabric swirl around my legs. I want to take every photograph so I can remember these curves in that corset. It feels like me, much more so than any business suit or tight skirt ever could. 

Without warning, I spin around and hug Merrilyn. She stumbles back, her arms wrapping around me awkwardly, as if unused to the sudden affection. “Thank you,” I breathe against her. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me.” 

“My job, that’s all,” she says, but she pats my shoulder, a silent sign to let her go. “The mayor will make your housing arrangements, and I will have the rest of your wardrobe sent to your new home.” 

It isn't just the one dress. I don’t know how many outfits Merrilyn made while awaiting my arrival. “I can come pick them up. And I’ll find a way to pay you for them, I swear.” Doing what, I have no idea. My skills in advertising and project management mean very little in a village used to running at a much slower pace than a New York City Fortune 500 company. 

“Payment is not necessary,” Merrilyn says, finality ringing through her voice. “It is my job within Willowdale, to outfit our new arrivals. If you want something special made beyond that, then we can discuss commissions.” 

Already my mind spins with ideas for what I could do for her in return. A flower arrangement? A lovely bottle of wine? Would she even be able to drink said wine? Or maybe… I find the elf baker, and I bring Merrilyn warm bread. No one says no to fresh baked bread, right? 

“I can’t accept these for free,” I insist, even as my hands slid down my waist, tracing the ribbing of the corset. “I didn’t bring any money with me through the portal.” 

“Your human money would be worthless here anyway,” she points out. “Lady Cassandra, you have a lot to learn about Willowdale and our society. Money is… not a necessity. We pay in trade, in services. In kindness.” Merrilyn pats my cheek like one would a small child. “The fact that you want to do something speaks highly of you. Trust me when I say, we are even. Now.” She claps her hands. “We are due to see the mayor any minute. Do you require anything before we leave?” 

How can I ask Merrilyn for more when she’s already done so much for me — without knowing anything about me beforehand? Eventually I’ll need something to eat, for it’s midday here and it had been evening when I left, but hunger has yet to catch up to me. Exhaustion, too, lingers on the edge of my mind. Now isn’t the moment to give into selfish things like sleep. “Is it fair to say I don’t know?” I admit. “Today has — already been a lot.” 

“An honest woman. That will suit you well.” Long fingers pluck a black hat off a nearby display. Its wide brim will offer plenty of shade, decorated with black silk flowers and one feather as long as my arm. “I will escort you to Spiderbone and then to the mayor’s home. I trust you know the way?” 

The weird thing is, I do. I’ve never been inside during my dreams, of course, nor has the mayor made an appearance. But I know the roads, and now I have a chance to test that knowledge. “Yes.” 

“Then let us go, Lady Cassandra. Onward, to your destiny.”