So instead, have a piece of the Kujerra fluff I'm having fun with. (NOTE: Set in Treno, the city that never sleeps. It's composed of nobles and slum residents with Kuja implied to be 'Mr King', the most influential aristocrat in Treno. Though this does follow our Mobliz fanon, just it's not evident in this bit)
-------------------------- Pearls
“I think it’s a little too fancy for me.” “Nonsense, you wear it like a dream. Why I could compose an entire rhapsody around the image of you in that dress---” “But…it’s not going to be very practical. And the pearls…won’t they drop out?” “Not if they’re handled with care, miss.” “I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’s right for me.” Terra bows her head guiltily as the seamstress and assistants help her out of the gown.
As this is a private fitting commissioned by the infamous ‘Mister King’ at his mansion no protests are made over Kuja’s presence whilst Terra changes. He refuses to leave her unattended and since he’s a gentleman paying through the nose those tailors will do things his way or go without his business.
“No matter. I’m certain we’ll find something suitable. Which reminds me---” Kuja clicks his fingers at the seamstress, “She’ll be needing a winter cloak. Something thick yet comfortable; perhaps with a fur lining. And a hood if possible.” “But that’s still months away.” “I insist. We can’t have my little bird’s wings nipped by winter’s merciless chill now, can we?” He returns to sipping wine at his chair as a new dress is brought forth, a white smock with a black bodice, plain in comparison to the ostentatious precedent.
“I think it’s too small. Do you think it’s possible to let it out?” “If you try it on first, miss, then we can take your measurements into account.” “Okay then…”
The fitting is a little too tight—Terra gasps and before he knows it Kuja has shot to her side. The seamstress immediately loosens the gown and Terra takes a deep breath of relief—it’s alright, she was just startled.
Kuja tries to brush off this slip of composure with a sheepish wave of the hand. “Fetch something that allows a little more freedom, nothing with a corset or boning.”
Terra can’t help but smile as she clasps his hand. He tries to remain firm in front of the salespeople. “I won’t have anything that makes her feel constrained.”
*can't think of a witty response*
--------------------------
Pearls
“I think it’s a little too fancy for me.”
“Nonsense, you wear it like a dream. Why I could compose an entire rhapsody around the image of you in that dress---”
“But…it’s not going to be very practical. And the pearls…won’t they drop out?”
“Not if they’re handled with care, miss.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’s right for me.” Terra bows her head guiltily as the seamstress and assistants help her out of the gown.
As this is a private fitting commissioned by the infamous ‘Mister King’ at his mansion no protests are made over Kuja’s presence whilst Terra changes. He refuses to leave her unattended and since he’s a gentleman paying through the nose those tailors will do things his way or go without his business.
“No matter. I’m certain we’ll find something suitable. Which reminds me---” Kuja clicks his fingers at the seamstress, “She’ll be needing a winter cloak. Something thick yet comfortable; perhaps with a fur lining. And a hood if possible.”
“But that’s still months away.”
“I insist. We can’t have my little bird’s wings nipped by winter’s merciless chill now, can we?” He returns to sipping wine at his chair as a new dress is brought forth, a white smock with a black bodice, plain in comparison to the ostentatious precedent.
“I think it’s too small. Do you think it’s possible to let it out?”
“If you try it on first, miss, then we can take your measurements into account.”
“Okay then…”
The fitting is a little too tight—Terra gasps and before he knows it Kuja has shot to her side. The seamstress immediately loosens the gown and Terra takes a deep breath of relief—it’s alright, she was just startled.
Kuja tries to brush off this slip of composure with a sheepish wave of the hand. “Fetch something that allows a little more freedom, nothing with a corset or boning.”
Terra can’t help but smile as she clasps his hand. He tries to remain firm in front of the salespeople. “I won’t have anything that makes her feel constrained.”