Huh. So these are boobs.
Jon could best describe the experiences up until this point as so, so painfully absurd. He’d been forced through this disaster of a storyline as a disaster of a character for much longer than he cared for—even the idea of living in an actual fantasy had lost its luster.
Hehe. Boobs.
There was, thankfully, a silver lining to this misadventure. A beacon of hope so glorious that even Jon, as humiliated as he was, couldn’t help but feel some shred of optimism. Boobs. Real boobs. He’d never seen an actual pair before. Oh, how Jon had dreamed of this. Granted, getting a girlfriend may have been a much more simple and desired option, but that required effort and self-confidence. Traveling to an alternate reality using sketchy magic was definitely the way to go.
It… Really wasn’t.
But at least this meant he could look at a girl’s body without feeling like an asshole. Right? Right?
Questionably narcissistic perversions aside, the faux-princess needed to pay his attention elsewhere; this new BFF of his. Holléna, as pretty and friendly as she might be, was turning out to be Jon’s worst foe to date—prince please-punch-me notwithstanding. No visible escape route this time, and this new outfit was looming over Jon with more loathsome presence than anything in Allaria’s closet could hope to muster.
He was gonna wear the dress. This was fact. All he could do now was play damage control. Who knows, maybe he’ll get lucky and worm his way into wearing flats or something.
“Your thoughts, princess?” Holléna sounded genuinely happy with her… creation, but her voice betrayed some level of worry. It was Allaria’s reaction that mattered first and foremost, after all, not hers. “I am very much quite proud of it, to be perfectly honest! This is the first time mother has allowed me to use fairy-thread—”
It was a ball gown, whatever sense of business-formality the author was apparently trying establish obviously not applying to Allaria. Or was this typical Elven formality? Appearing all pretty and colorful and not-at-all serious? With whatever trends the author was seeking to establish, Jon honestly had no clue. Also, flowers. So. Many. Stupid. Flowers. All so intricately woven into the gown, looking as alive and radiant as they were very much not supposed to be. Jon didn’t know plants, like, at all, but the flowery aroma he originally thought emanating from some unseen garden was obviously from the thing instead.
Good news though: it looked like it would cover more of Jon’s body than anything else he’d seen today. But this still wasn’t all that impressive; everything from the cleavage up looked like it would be left bare, as would be Jon’s entire back, and… were those… holes… where his hips would be? How did that work? Of all things, why was this dress showing off his stupid giant hips so blatantly?
Jon really didn’t like it, but... all in all, this wasn't the worse option. It looked as disgustingly feminine as everything else he's had to wear up to now, but without the issue of making Jon look too much like pervert. Wait a moment... If Holléna wasn't comfortable making human clothes, Jon could make use of this instead, right?
“I love it!” He announced with erroneous excitement. He leaped to Holléna, wrapping her in a tight hug, flurry of “thank yous” and contagious giggling resonating through the air like delightful music--it wasn't hard to imagine that this was how the real Allaria would act. Holléna hugged back, of course, laughing and overjoyed that her princess loved her design so, so much...
Go time.
"It is simply wonderful! My dearest Holléna, you must make more outfits like this. The... emphasis on the cloth over the body speaks wonders of your innovative talent!"
The apprentice seamstress's eyes went wide in bewilderment. "Do you really think so, Allaria? I mean, it's so unlike the standard--"
Nope. No self-doubt. Let's cover my body as much as possible.
"This is why I want you to take inspiration from human fashion! I know you have it in you to start a new age of Elven garments!" Jon was a terrible liar and was well aware of it--but Allaria's melodic voice did a wondrous job making him sound just so genuinely honest and loving. The seamstress was just eating up everything he said.
"Thank you so much my princess! I did have a few ideas I would love to have you model... Oh, silly me. You still need to dress for the summit!"
Fuck it. Let’s get this over with. The sooner I end this scene, the sooner I'm out of here.
It was much easier to don than one would think, considering the intricacies of this outfit. Jon figured the author had not quite grasped the concept of historical accuracy, or actual clothes and holy cow Allaria looked hot.
“It’s… Beautiful.”
Holléna gave a cheeky grin. “That’s not even the half of it, princess. Try infusing the fairy-thread with your magic.”
Magic! This was a fantasy story, so of course magic existed! There's something good for once! ...And it just had it be used on something as unimpressive as playing dress up. Why couldn’t Jon, say, blow something up? Blowing stuff up was fun and generic. Did the author only subvert fantasy norms when it led to the most boring outcome?
Ah well, at least he’d get some interesting world building. Maybe if Jon could figure out the magic language or runes or whatever, he could try swapping into a more interesting character.
And… Why was Allaria slowly shaking her hips? And what were her hands doing!?
It was just then, as the dress and flowers took on a wondrous array of shifting colors—among a few other fun effects to be later discovered—that the unfortunate protagonist realized just how elves casted magic.
Dancing.
This horrible, perverted author thought himself clever to make the elves dance.
