Hi folks, Misty here, I feel like I should start prefacing my posts here with some expectations since comments I get tend to be mixed as if people are surprised by content in the story.
To that end, I am going to use the short hand I preface stories with on another site.
[flash, hip-e, ass-e, futa-t, hyper, f-solo, af]
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Jinara had been tracking it all week, the final piece. She had kept its travels open in a tab on her second monitor since it shipped. Her quarry had flown from Anaheim to Boston and then been driven to Philly. Today, however, was the day knew it would be there waiting for her when she got home. Finally. The skirt for her Paladin was out for delivery.
Every day since the big order had been a nailbiter. An endless worry that she would not have all of the costume pieces for the convention that was this weekend. Each was bought through suggestions from friends. In their own time, the bits and parts had arrived from all over. The trademark curved Draenei horns were her most recent acquisition and she had spent many hours perfecting the application of the light gray prosthetics.
She was actually shuddering with excitement at lunch as she exchanged messages with Xurnath, another Paladin in the guild. They were the ones who put in the good word about the skirt's maker. They seemed just as excited as she was. They said it would likely be a transformational experience.
Sitting back down to work, she found it hard to sit still. It was only a couple hours until she could try out her complete ensemble and then go through the next couple days with peace of mind. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed out the changes outlined at the last meeting and the time flew by.
As she left her part-time job, she fantasized about how it would look with the rest of her Draenei attire. It was going to be flawless, she was certain of that. She had even figured out how to turn explain her chestnut brown skin in character. Sure, this was the first time she was going to a con, and maybe she was going overboard, but it was also the first time meeting some of her guildmates and she wanted to make a good impression.
This year had been filled with firsts, she reflected as she stood in the packed SEPTA line train. Ever since moving out east to finish her bachelor's, her life has been hers to live. She had done all sorts of things she was not permitted while living at home. From drinking and swearing to having sex with men, women--and even both that one time she got drunk with her roommate and their boyfriend.
Her favorite thing about being on her own however, was getting to relax on the couch in her underwear playing classic 16-bit era games or raiding--typically both at the same time. Such wanton idleness was chief among things she had never been allowed to enjoy growing up.
Her parents, both the children of immigrants and staunchly conservative, had never really understood why their daughter loved video games or that breed of fantasy rooted in Western Europe. They did not understand how growing up in San Fran and going to school with kids from all over the world had given her more to aspire to than being a perfect bride to be traded off.
As she grew older, they clashed more frequently over how American she was. When she got an Alliance tattoo, she and her father actually came to blows. When she told them she wanted to be a novelist and not a doctor, they almost disowned her. Her start on the path to being a computer scientist was a compromise everyone was willing to make.
In the lobby of her building, her hands fumbled as she tried to fit the key in the lock on her mailbox. She fidgeted with the package as she waited for the elevator, her fingers grasping at the adhesive edge. The moment she was through her door, she eagerly tore through the bubble mailer and then let out a squeal. She kicked off her shoes as she shook the garment out, losing four inches in the process.
The skirt was actually four pieces, a skirt proper and three draping lengths of silver fabric. The effect was a high-low style that made it look like a the lower half of a tabard. The skirt itself was black with pleats that brushed the middle of her thighs. Holding it up to her waist, the front piece of the tabard draping was just below her knees. The back pieces were on the ground over her feet. Which meant, when she put on the custom-made hoof boots, they would be a few inches of the ground.
She stretched her arms out to look at the back which was what would make or break the outfit. She let out a sigh as her eyes traced an intricately detailed rune, embroidered in bright blue. It was an overall oval shape and ran from the left hip down to the bottom of the skirt tails before curving back up to the right. It was one of her own design and was ecstatic at how well it had turned out.
Her design had incorporated Hindu symbology with the iconography of Azaroth in an attempt to make something that truly represented her. The symbol was supposed to convey her commitment to the light. Folding the skirt over her arm, she noticed It had a black tag attached with a safety pin to the hem. On the scrap of cardboard was a heart with a seven-pointed star overlay.
