Lace. Frills. Ribbons and bows. Pleated skirts and flowing sleeves, strapless gowns with billowing folds. Little black evening numbers hemmed tight around the knees. Thick ribbons belted around thin waists. Gossimer tops with delicate patterns. Rhinestones. Gemstones. Silver and gold.

Taryn turned a full 180 degrees away from the Gladrags's window display, her face white as sheet in spite of the bitter cold. "I can't do this," she said in a weak voice, two seconds away from making a break into the snowy streets like a rabbit fleeing from the hunt. "I just. I can't. No way.This is not gonna work. Maybe I can get a sub for the dance."

Of course, she knew that wasn't going to happen. She'd been Salem's Champion for the first task, and that meant she had to be on the floor, opening the party with the rest of the Champions. And that meant she had to have the one thing she'd avoided for eleven years: a dress.

That didn't stop her from giving Kayla the biggest puppy dog eyes she could, though. "Kaaaaaaaaay, I can't do this."

It was bitter cold here in Scotland, and Kayla - definitely a creature of the heat - was as bundled as she could get against the freezing wind. Outfitted with a scarf, high boots, even a hood pulled over her head, the only part of her skin that showed was her pink, wind-chapped face. But this was an important mission, and even as she hopped from foot to foot in the stiff icy streets she didn't mind too much. This was worth it. (Even if her shopping partner wasn't so enthusiastic.)

Kayla wasn't much of a girly-girl herself, growing up in a household of three boys and her father. But though she rarely wore them, she could appreciate a pretty dress when she saw one. Even if some of these looked like they'd been in some sort of terrible, tulle-related accident, someone had still put a lot of work into them - and - well - maybe those ruffles looked good on somebody? The colors were pretty, at least.

Admiringly she touched the glass of the shop window, leaving little smudges where her hands, moist and warm, had been shoved firmly into her pockets as they walked. Her other hand snaked out to tug on Taryn's sleeve; she pointed, beaming, at a hideously sequined taupe-and-purple gown. It was, despite the easy affection of the gesture, a surprisingly strong grip. Taryn wasn't getting away from this girl. "Oh, don't you think you'd look pretty in that one?" she asked, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye that was not quite masked by her innocent tone. "Don't be silly. You know you need a dress for the Ball. Can you imagine the heart attack all the bigwigs would have if you wore a pretty pantsuit? You're just going to have to get over it long enough to pick one."

Taryn whimpered like a scolded puppy. As much as she hated to admit it, Kay was right. The last time she'd gone to a formal event -- a muggleborn friend's debutante debut -- she'd worn a men's tuxedo and was promptly barred entrance on charge of being a lesbian, because southern high society could still get away with crud like that. The Yule Ball wouldn't send her away, but she could imagine the disapproval in Professor Bai's expression, the haughty contempt from Beauxbatons and Drumstrang, Magdalena Eisenberg's stupid upturned nose...

She sighed, pushing open the door. "Let's just get this over with."

Naturally, to complete her misery, the shop had low ceilings, about half an inch too short for Taryn to comfortably stand. There was also a ceiling fan, currently motionless due to the cold weather, but still prominent enough in the center of the room that Taryn eyed it with distrust. "I have mention how much I hate celin' fans, right?"

"Welcome!" From somewhere in the racks of clothes a perky sales lady turned up, smiling and beaming in a way that was almost creepy. "What can I do for you ladies?"

"Er..." Taryn tried to straighten up, but the ceiling stopped her before she could completely extend her neck. "Ah...Ah'm lookin' for a...uh. That is, I need to get a...um. Kay?" Help me.

"You could knock it off," Kayla whispered in soothing tones close to Taryn's side as they scuttled in. She detached herself once the closed door cut off the winter winds, body angling towards the thick of the racks like a salmon upstream (hunting for sales tags instead of spawning grounds), "Accidentally."

A salesperson popped out of the depths of the shop, her cheerful, insistent, personalized service an oddity Kayla had accepted as part of the wizarding world. She was more used to Walmart; having a saleswoman follow her around the store got creepy kinda fast. Maybe it was a European thing, too - all these small, family-owned shops.

"We need dresses!" she piped up, mindful of her companion's unease. "For the Yule Ball, so something fancy, and, um - " she glanced up at Taryn - "Probably shoes and accessories, too."

The lady tutted, eying the two of them not with disapproval but only more cheerful delight. Taryn she took an especially hard look at, mouth twisting like she wanted to smile and frown all at once. "Oh, I'm sure we can find something!" she finally proclaimed. She began bustling about the racks, drawing out dresses and muttering to herself. Kayla inched towards the nearest rack, wanting to look for herself.

The suggestion was tempting, but the last thing Taryn's nerves needed was to make the shopkeeper angry with property damage. So she shuffled around the fan, squirming uncomfortably as the woman eyed her. Ugh, that look. She'd gotten so sick of that look over the years. At least this saleslady was nice enough not to toss her out on her ear, the way some of the snootier department stores did.

While the salesperson dug through their racks, Taryn stayed near Kayla, leaning over to feign interest in all the fancy gowns and robes the shop had on display. She had to admit, once you got past the god-awful things in the front display, some of them were pretty things. But that, of course, was the problem: they were all pretty little things, meant for pretty little girls like Kay. Anything made to fit Taryn, if it even existed, was bound to be hideous.

The salesperson's head popped up out of a rack of gowns. "What are your preferences, dearies? In terms of colors, cuts, styles, an on."

"Uh, I dunno. Dark?" Taryn shrugged, mulling over her answer while Kayla gave hers. Chances were she wouldn't have that much choice, but if she could... "I like purple."

The salesperson tut-tutted again as though making notes and disappeared for the second time. A moment later a dress, carried by the shopkeeper's wand, flew across the store and canonballed into Taryn's arms. She took the hint, ducking awkwardly into the cramped fitting room, which was about a foot too short for her. A few minutes later she reappeared, barefoot and bare-armed, struggling with the zipper.

"Kay? Can yeh...er..." She turned around to offer the half-pulled zipper and caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror. She scowled. The dress was not flattering. It bleached her already-pale skin and hung flat from shoulder to leg, which only fell to her knees.

"Thus begins the frump parade." She sighed, turning all the way around once before leaning on the rack Kayla'd been searching. "Find anything for you?"

"I don't know," Kayla replied behind Taryn's answer, Dark. I like purple, Kayla wasn't so sure of what she liked. Her dad would tell her she looked nice in anything - her brothers teased her regardless - and it wasn't like she'd had a mom around to help her pick things out. She'd grown up choosing clothing without anyone's opinion to tell her if it was right or wrong. In the summer she liked little sundresses, pretty and fair, and her fingers wandered towards the short informal dresses as she looked through the rack.

"I like... light dresses. Cream and lace." Lace was so pretty, and she never had reason to wear it. It looked delicate, not like something that could keep up with Kayla's rough-and-tumble life. But that was the point of dressing up, wasn't it? She wouldn't be climbing trees in her Yule gown. Still, she didn't want material all around her legs, tripping her up.

Barely had they given their preferences did the saleswitch send a gown spinning into Taryn's arms. Kayla continued to browse, nixing the gown the saleswitch found for her with an uncertain look and a, "It's a little old-fashioned..." Wizarding fashion was easier to judge than the Muggle styles the store kept. Kayla didn't want to look like any Victorian lady.

She gave a sympathetic half-smile, half-grimace when Taryn emerged and caught a look at herself. "I don't think that even needs to be zipped up to know it's not, um, the one." Sheepishly she showed Taryn a dress she'd pulled, knowing as she did that it was too informal. "It's cute, right?" she said, even as she was putting it back. But then she hummed thoughtfully and shoved another into Taryn's arms, saying, "Is this the right size? Try this."