Timestamp: 6th Fall 512 AV
It was about midday when Rosela decided she desperately needed a new wardrobe. She caught sight of herself in a reflecting pool, wearing her same linen dress and for some reason, it was just too much to handle. She’d been in Riverfall nearly a whole week and a half and she still hadn’t made anything of herself. Slipping down onto a bench, she worked hard not to cry. Granted, she got plenty of nice stares when she was out in the street, but she still went to sleep in the same miserable cottage, walked around in the same linen dress, and wore the same cheap makeup. Why had she not made a name for herself yet? Why was she still so…poor? Is this what she’d left Ahnatep for? The fine hairs on her arms raised and she wrapped one pair of arms around herself. Is this what she’d killed for?
No!
Standing up suddenly, she balled all six fists and looked determinedly down the street. She’d just had bad luck is all! What had her mother always said? The first step to high class was to dress like it. That’s why she was taking so long to get rich again - she wasn’t dressing like it!
A few bells of window shopping informed her that dressing richly would cost her richly. But exactly how important was food anyway? She could stand to lose a few pounds, right? She was calculating how many pounds she would lose if she gave up food for a week when she passed by a very small fabric store. She caught the sale price and quickly swept in, without actually looking at the display. Of course, why hadn’t she thought of it earlier? She clearly had the best fashion sense of anyone around, so why not make her own clothing?
Stopping at the first aisle, she looked around for the first time at the wares and her inner seamstress immediately fainted in shock. The fabrics, the trimmings, everything was so…507! Animal print weaves? Cloth flowers? Feather trim? Did the proprietor sell exclusively to the market of people who dressed like it was five years ago? Then again, it was Riverfall. Maybe it took five whole years for fashion to get here?
Rosela passed an entire shelf of reflective, metallic fabrics of varying colors. One hand reached out to lift the corner, which the other five hands cringed in horror. Metallic was for minimal trim at best, so who in their right mind would buy an entire bolt of the stuff?