for richwitchbtch; Remissa and Siria figure out Looks for the deer wedding

[moonsickness]

[Remissa floos in to Siria's flat a good fifteen minutes past the time they'd agreed to meet, her bridesmaid's outfit for Jane and Lily's wedding in a garment bag tucked under her arm.

The smile directed at Siria is a little sheepish, for a few reasons.] Sorry I'm late.

[That's one. The other, larger reason is sort of why they're doing this. Remissa doesn't really dress up. Ever. Make-up is sort of a foreign concept and heels, even low ones, are nigh impossible. So she's going to "practice".]

Comments

[moonsickness]

Emotional communication is clearly at an all-time high here. Siria's grin draws up a smile from her in return, and she chuckles quietly. "I'm sure it was a very strategic move. If you've been given permission, you'll be less distracting about it."

[richwitchbtch]

"That's what Lils thinks, at least."

(Though, being Lily, she's probably already anticipated the plot twist Siria's planning.)

"Now it just means 've gotta be-- distracting about something else. How d'you think I'd look with bright blue hair?"

She's probably joking.

[moonsickness]

Remissa huffed, trying to sound disapproving. "I think you shouldn't try to make Jane and Lily's wedding The Padfoot Show."

She had no doubt Siria could rock bright blue hair, though... she could make anything look good.

[richwitchbtch]

"C'mon, it's only a little bit my show."

Because whenever it's Jane's, it's Siria's. Obviously.

[moonsickness]

She knew laughing would only encourage Siria, but she couldn't help a quiet giggle. "You're terrible. How's the tea coming?"

[richwitchbtch]

That giggle earns a bright grin, even as she hums, "The absolute worst. And just another mo for tea."

She has to make it the way Remissa likes it, after all.

[moonsickness]

She’s not in a huge rush to get started on the actual reason she’s come over, so she doesn’t try to rush what is apparently an intensive process of making tea.

Instead she fidgets with a hole in the sleeve of her jumper. It was nearly big enough for her thumb to slip through, and in the perfect place for it, so she was reluctant to mend it with magic.

She clears her throat, the nerves returning. “Do you, ah-- Do you have anything that will cover the scars? Even though they’re cursed?” She’d certainly tried to do so before, and it had never worked, but maybe Siria would know of something.