Hit the Panic Button!

Clementine hurried off of the train that had just arrived in Hosenka. She clutched the few belongings she had brought along and made a beeline for the city. People exclaimed in protest as she pushed her way through the crowds. The painter was unbothered by their outrage. She had somewhere to be and everyone was in the way!

Clem was unfashionably late. She had been invited to some sort of mock wedding by Turashi, much to her surprise. The two had met in the Errings Rising castle recently and had spent some time together. They didn’t have a whole lot in common, but Clem was more than glad to have a familiar face among the lonely hallways. Her guildmates could be quite intimidating, but Tura was different. There wasn’t a malicious vibe to him. Clem was convinced that he wouldn’t hurt a fly even if it asked. His timidness towards women was peculiar, though. She was still trying her best to understand it.

When Tura had invited her to this event, Clem was excited. She had never been to a wedding before! People where she grew up were too poor to afford anything more than an appointment at a courthouse. All that she knew about weddings was from what she had seen in magazines and newspapers, on passing billboards and commercials played on lacrima TVs in shop windows.

Clem was also nervous. She had never been invited to a romantic outing such as this before. Then again, she had never been involved with someone that way before or even come close. It wasn’t clear if Tura had intended the invitation to be romantically charged. Did he think of her that way? The thought made Clem’s stomach twist. She couldn’t tell if it was in excitement or apprehension. The painter wasn’t quite sure what she felt about him.

The young woman remembered the map she had observed diligently before leaving the castle. The venue was north three blocks, west two blocks, and north one more block. Though Clem could only read sparsely, she was more than competent with city structures, directions, and numbers. Navigation was a breeze when she had a visual map. She pushed on, running down the streets to her destination. Guilt pushed her faster. Leaving Tura to deal with the rush of wedding preparation and the wedding staff wasn’t the best thing. She was aware of how overwhelming it would be.

Panting, Clem sprinted into the venue. She spotted Tura standing on a wooden platform. A woman was at his side, chattering on and using a measuring tape to calculate the sizing for his outfit. He looked uncomfortable. She couldn’t blame him.

“I’m here! I’m here,” Clem cried as she rushed up, skidding to a stop next to the pedestal. “Sorry for bein’ late,” she said to Tura between sharp inhales. “Oh goody! The bride is here!~” the tailor’s assistant trilled. A firm hand grasped Clem’s jacket and pulled her up onto another pedestal. Before the painter could protest, the measuring tape had come out. “Stay still!” the woman barked at her. Clem couldn’t help but freeze in place.

Blue eyes peered helplessly over at Tura. Clem let out a laugh and shrugged her shoulders. There was nothing the two could do to get out of this now. The least they could do was make the best of the experience, then look back on it later and laugh.

Clem was watching the stylist’s assistant with a curious eye when she felt Tura’s hand touch hers. The sudden contact made her flinch and her breathing hitched from the sheer unexpectedness. Her head whipped to look at her hand, which he now held completely. Blue eyes stared for a moment, then glanced up to Tura’s face. He looked strained. As much as she was unaccustomed to holding hands with anyone, Clem couldn’t find it in her to let go. Her companion seemed like he needed the contact, so she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Clem cringed just as hard as Tura when the assistant woman screeched out. How could people be so unabashedly loud and annoying? The tailor himself had arrived and she was fawning over him. The way the man looked at his assistant and spoke to her made Clem’s gut twist in unease and disgust. She had encountered a few men like this one in her younger years. It still struck the same feeling inside her and she remained on edge.

It seemed Tura felt the same way, as his hand squeezed hers so tight that it felt like a few bones might break with a little more effort. Clem was relieved that he recognized the awful behavior of Santiago towards Lexi. Oftentimes the men she had met simply didn’t notice attitudes like that of the tailor, or even didn’t think it was a problem. She gave a grateful glance Tura’s way, despite her hand being nearly crushed in his own. The tailor approached, addressing Tura first. He spouted off about the details of a suit for the man, then stalked around the podiums to Clem. She narrowed her eyes as she watched Santiago look her over. Predatory brown eyes lingered on her chest and hips. Clem nearly launched herself off of the platform and beat him to a pulp right there. She felt vulnerable under his disgusting gaze and she hated it. Fingers in her unoccupied hand twitched, itching to deck the tailor just once.

After explaining her outfit, Santiago swiftly raised his hands and used his magic on Tura. Clem couldn’t help but let out a little laugh as the magic took effect. Tura was left in a ridiculous outfit. Fishnets?! That was so not his style. Santiago attempted to fix the outfit, but failed again. Clem couldn’t contain her snort of amusement, which earned her a glare from Lexi.

It seemed that Tura didn’t find it amusing, though. Clem quelled her laughter, not wanting to upset her friend. He had stopped Santiago from continuing to mess up. The tailor said that the outfit magic lasted until the ceremony was over. Any attempt to change it was futile. Tura had turned to her and was apologizing for his appearance. Clem’s brow furrowed in confusion. Some of her guildmate’s mannerisms still confused her. Why would she be offended by seeing his body? Maybe it had to do with something in his past.

“No worries, Tura,” she hastily replied. “I seen some skin before, it don’t bother me.” Truth be told, she found the outfit kind of endearing. It was definitely far from the expected one and looked so out of place on Tura.

Santiago and Lexi had taken a moment to try to fix his magic while Clem and Tura talked. The tailor cleared his throat, catching their attention again. “Now, is time for the bride’s outfit. This should go correct.” Clem wasn’t convinced. She stood up tall on the podium with her eyes closed and braced herself for the magic to hit. As much as she didn’t want to have an outfit mishap, she was willing to endure it if it could make Tura feel less awful about his own.

Santiago approached and raised his hands. He got a little too close for Clem’s comfort. She could feel his breath on her face. One blue eye shot open and stared daggers at the tailor. His hands were outstretched a little too close to her chest. “Back off bud, unless you want to lose both hands,” Clem whispered fiercely to him. Santiago took a step back in fear. The expression on his face told the painter that he wasn’t used to women fighting back against his creepy behavior. She felt a little satisfied.

The magic sprouted from Santiago’s hands. Clem opened one eye hesitantly. The first thing she noticed was pink, and lots of it. Her chest and arms were covered in a ridiculous frilly top with sheer sleeves that made her feel like walking cotton candy. On her bottom half was a tight, short skirt of the same color. “What the-?” Clem began angrily, but Santiago was already fixing his mistake with a panicked look on his face. Lexi was staring angrily at the back of the tailor’s head.

The magic hit Clem again. This time, she could already feel the air on her skin. The shirt she had been put in had long, puffy lace sleeves. Over her torso, though, there was barely any material. It covered her chest just barely, but left huge patches of skin exposed on her chest and midriff. Short jean shorts rode high on her hips.

Clem let out a gasp and crossed her arms to cover her exposed skin. This was not clothing she wanted to be wearing! Especially for a wedding! She turned to Santiago with furious blue eyes. How dare he put her in such a revealing outfit! It was obvious he did it for his own benefit. Clem felt disgusted and exposed. The tailor was staring at her intensely while Lexi stood at his side with her jaw on the floor. Clem stepped down from the podium, uncrossing her arms and forming them into fists at her side. Each storming step brought her towards Santiago. Lexi snapped out of her shock and was already berating him. “HOW DARE YOU! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO MAKE A WEDDING DRESS! HOW COULD YOU PUT SUCH A REVEALING OUTFIT ON HER! YOU’RE BASICALLY CHEATING ON ME!” she screeched.

Clem stopped in front of the two. “Fuck you,” she said furiously, then landed a vicious kick between Santiago’s legs. He doubled over with a wheeze, where Clem’s knee met his nose with a bloody CRACK. Lexi grabbed his sleeve and began dragging him away, likely to yell at him a lot more. Clem whirled on her heel and nearly ran back to Tura. She felt too exposed in his outfit and wanted to just get on with this job. The faster they could get out of these outfits, the better.

Clem grabbed Tura’s hand without second thought and pulled him towards the dais. “Come on,” she said curtly. “Let’s get this over with so we can get back into our normal clothes.” She was furious, disgusted, and embarrassed with what Santiago had done to her clothes. The painter was only okay with being this exposed on her own terms and with clothing that she chose. But it hadn’t been her choice, and now Tura was able to see parts of her that he shouldn’t be.

Tura’s attempts at comforting Clem only helped a little. It was hard for her fury to die down. “I don’t think standin’ in front of me is gonna help too much,” she replied, raising a brow. It seemed he had another solution, though. Clem could feel the magic that traveled down his hand before she saw it. Turning her head to look, she froze. All she could do was watch as the blob transferred from his hand to her own. Clem was still freaked out by some of the magic out in the world. She grew up in a place without any magic at all, so any sort of spell still unnerved her.

The magic blob did its business, forming into a beautiful black wedding dress. Long slits of red fabric went almost all the way up to the waist. Clem found herself holding a large bouquet of red and black roses. She admired the fabric for a moment, clearly pleased at the change of outfit. The painter hadn’t worn a dress since she was little. Though it was a bit… goth for her style, the painter was glad to have anything but the revealing outfit that Santiago had given her.

Blue eyes narrowed in concern as she noticed Tura seemed to be exerting a great effort to keep the dress in place. “A dominant female?...” she said with a puzzled expression. “Er, is that what brides are called where you come from?” That would certainly be an odd title.

The two were led up to a dais. Employees shuffled around for a minute, then a man stepped up behind the podium next to them. He began to speak, and Clem nearly giggled at the way he spoke. Something about how he pronounced his Rs as Ws reminded her of a baby learning to speak. Clem clenched and unclenched her jaw to hold in the laughter. She and Tura stood there as the official droned on.

At last, he finished his speech and waved his hands around the two. Upon Clem and Tura’s right hands, a ring appeared for each. Clem’s was simple in design and a beautiful silver color. She didn’t know much about jewelry or metal, but she assumed it was just a cheap one for the day. The official departed with a comment about the marriage becoming official if they were to conceive. Clem gritted her teeth and looked at the floor. The thought made her uncomfortable. She didn’t know Tura that well and the thought of being pregnant made her shiver in discomfort.

Tura distracted her from those thoughts by offering to go try some cake. Clem took his arm eagerly and they proceeded to the dessert table. Before they arrived, her dress began to disintegrate. The black fabric fell away around her. The painter was pleasantly surprised to find her normal clothing had returned. She ran a hand over the sleeves of her purple jacket, finding comfort in the familiar fabric.

“S’okay,” she replied to Tura, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was surprised by his offer to make the dress for her. “Thanks. Er… I don’t really wear dresses that much but if you wanna make it, I’ll accept it. Some lace would be nice.”

Clem was just as disappointed as her redheaded temporary husband at the lack of cake. She was a sucker for junk food and had been craving some high quality cake that afternoon. The painter’s lips pouted as she stared at the spoonful Tura was offering. “There usually is cake, really good cake,” she sighed. As a child, she had scavenged wedding cake from the dumpster of a bakery once. It was divine. “This is pudding. It’s good, but it’s no cake.” She took the spoon from him and tentatively ate it. The pudding was delicious, but it wasn’t what she wanted. “After this is all done, let’s go get some cake,” she offered to Tura, who she could see was similarly crestfallen.

Clem looked around to see what the next task was. She noticed a woman waving her over enthusiastically. The painter approached. “You forgot to throw the bouquet!” she scolded the temporary bride cheerfully. “The guests have been waiting!” Clem looked over, noticing the crowd of finely-dressed ladies watching her expectantly. She felt a bit out of place in her own clothes, but shrugged it off.

“I dunno where my bouquet went,” she replied with a shrug. “Such a scatterbrained bride!” the woman tutted, reaching over to a table and grabbing a giant bouquet of vibrantly rainbow flowers. She shoved them into Clem’s hands. “Now, turn around and toss it over your head. Whoever catches it will be next to be wed!” A few excited squeals came from the small crowd of ladies. “If you say so,” Clem said flippantly, following the instructions. She bent forward, then threw the bouquet over her head with a grunt. It was heavy!

Gasps from the crowd made Clem whirl around. All the ladies were staring at each other with wide eyes. In each of their hands was a perfectly sized mini-bouquet. Somehow the giant bundle had been divided evenly between everyone participating. It was some sort of miracle. Clem shrugged and gave the snooty woman a smirk before returning to Tura. Weddings were certainly odd. The painter wasn’t sure if she wanted to participate in one again. Hopefully any future weddings she attended wouldn’t be so chaotic!

As Tura explained the whole dominant female thing, Clem began to understand why his mannerisms were so odd. It seemed to be a female-run society, which probably meant he existed on the lower rungs. No wonder he felt fear towards women and treated them with excessive respect.

“Sure, both is good! We can work on something together,” Clem said with a little smile. She liked having someone to spend time with. Tura was an unusual person, but they usually had a good time together.

“I got no idea. Everything else was so well planned, how could they mess up the dessert so bad? Ugh.” She shook her head. “I’d love to,” she added at Tura’s suggestion.

When she returned from the bouquet toss, Tura queried about the people dancing. Clem looked over to see couples dancing on a section of floor that was smooth wood. They began to part to the edges of it as a spotlight fixed upon Clem and Tura. Her shoulders stiffened up as she felt so many eyes upon her. “Um,” she stammered. “I think we’re supposed to dance together? I dunno how to slow dance...”

She led Tura awkwardly out to the dancefloor. The crowd cheered. Turning to face him, Clem stepped forward and put her arms around his neck. She hoped he didn’t mind the unexpected contact, but the pressure from all the eyes on her made the painter take the lead. “We’re supposed to dance,” she explained to Tura quietly. “Just take a few steps and sway side to side. Follow my lead.” Though her movements were stiff and lacking confidence, Clem began to lead the dance. She used light pressure with her hands to guide their movements, doing a basic almost-waltz. The only dancing she had seen was from media, she had never done it before.

A few times she stepped on Tura’s toes, mumbling a soft “sorry” with each one. The dance seemed to stretch on forever. Apparently the dancefloor was supposed to help them dance better, but Clem noticed nothing different. She desperately wished it would work to make her movements less awkward.

At last, the song finished. The guests rushed out the dancefloor, taking up the once empty space. A more upbeat song began. Clem led Tura away from the crowd, her stiffened shoulders finally relaxing. “Whew! I’m so glad that’s over,” she said with a giant sigh.

Tura took the lead from her the best he could and Clem relaxed a bit. It was obvious that taking control wasn’t in his nature, but he was giving an honest effort and she truly appreciated it. Focusing on him instead of her feet, the painter was able to make her movements more smooth. The two worked together with the best harmony they could muster to finish the grueling dance. To the other guests, they probably looked like robots. It was obvious they didn’t know what they were doing.

“Yeah, that type of dancin’ is awful,” Clem agreed with a sigh. Relief filled her now that they were finished. She much preferred dances that had greater movements and went along with the kinds of rap she listened to. Many a time she had witnessed a dance off between kids her age on the streets. It was always entertaining and she enjoyed the unique and upbeat movements. Slow dancing was so… well, slow. It was boring, robotic, and she never wanted to do it again if she could.

“I think people like to have all this shit as a show of status,” Clem explained, gesturing around them at all the frilly decorations. “The more money they can spend, the more they think their buddies will respect and look up to them. It’s ridiculous and a waste of money.” She had grown up with little to no money, so the former street rat hated seeing others waste their money. Such funds could help out so many people who didn’t have anything. The wedding industry as a whole infuriated her. It was a total waste, unnecessary, and preyed on those who wanted to look good in the eyes of others.

A short haired employee approached the two and thanked them for participating in the ceremony and service testing. In her hands was a clipboard, which she soon extended towards the two. Clem started to clam up a bit. She had very little reading skills, having grown up without any formal public education. Tura didn’t know about her illiteracy and she was reluctant for him to find out. Would he look down on her for not being able to read? That had happened many times before and it always filled Clem with a savage bitterness. She hated being seen as less and had gotten in quite a few fistfights in the past trying to shut up pretentious people. Each punch to their face had been very satisfying, though.

The employee explained that it was a survey to give a review of the services the company had provided. She then added that a honeymoon suite had been provided for the two at a nearby hotel, should they want to use it. Clem paled. What?! They thought that she and Tura would do that? She didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Er… let’s just not fill it out then,” the painter suggested hastily. “She ain’t say it was mandatory.” Hopefully Tura would agree so she could avoid explaining her illiteracy. The longer she could delay that discussion, the better. Grabbing the clipboard, she placed it on the table next to them. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

“A honeymoon suite is ‘nother wedding thing. It’s a really fancy hotel room where the couple bangs for the first time after marraige.” Though the thought of doing that herself was a little uncomfortable, Clem didn’t hesitate to explain it point blank. She was blunt by nature. “It’s not required,” she added quickly. “Since this wasn’t a real marriage we don’t need to. I think they were just trying to be nice.” Clem’s mind was racing. If Tura wanted to use the honeymoon suite, did she? They hadn’t known each other for very long. She was struggling to understand how she felt about him. He was a great friend and fun to hang out with, but every time she thought about them being anything more, her gut twisted. It was hard to tell if the twist was good or bad. She didn’t have enough experience in the world of romance to know what she was feeling.

“Hey, since we didn’t get any cake, do you wanna go get some?” she asked, changing the subject in a heartbeat. “I’m sure there’s a bakery nearby that we could go to!” Without waiting for an answer, the dark mage turned and led her guildmate out of the venue. Several guests waved at them as they left, and Clem gave a curt wave of her fingers in response. These people had been entertained by her and Tura struggling through the event, so she wasn’t too fond of them.

Navigating through a few streets with the redhead by her side, Clem noticed a little shop with a cupcake logo and large windows. A bakery! She rushed to the glass, where she saw a long display case counter inside filled with cakes of all kinds. Each one was decorated with intricate detail and looked absolutely divine. This was exactly what the two needed after such a dissatisfying experience earlier. Pudding could never make up for cake! “Come on!” she called to Tura while pushing through the bakery’s door. Once inside, she took her time looking at each cake, nearly drooling. The chocolate cakes were particularly appealing, but then she saw a lemon cake to her left. There were so many. It would be so hard to pick! “What looks good to you?” she asked Tura without looking at him. The desserts were too captivating. She might just have to pick out several pieces and stuff herself with cake.