Chapter 292: Fire Dresses, Water Skirts, and the Crop Top That Was Called A Crop Top
Chapter 292: Fire Dresses, Water Skirts, and the Crop Top That Was Called A Crop Top
Elyn’s POV
The shadows moved swiftly, weaving between the racks with that strange, fluid grace they always possessed. Within seconds, they had returned, and draped across one of them was a dress that made me stop breathing for just a moment.
It was the colour of fire.
Not just red — that would have been too simple. This was a mix of everything. Deep crimson at the edges, bleeding into bright orange near the centre, with hints of gold threaded through the fabric like embers glowing beneath ash. The dress seemed to shimmer as the shadows held it up, the colours shifting and dancing with every small movement, and I could have sworn I saw actual warmth radiating from it.
Aziren clapped his hands together, his small flames jumping with excitement.
"That’s it," he said, nodding vigorously. "That’s the one. Try it on. My mum has something like it."
I stared at the dress, then at him.
"Really?" I asked him.
Aziren nodded, his amber eyes bright. "Yes. But hers is not as pretty... don’t tell her I said it though, but this one is better." He paused, tilting his head as he looked at me. "You’ll look like a Firefly."
I laughed at that.
Of course. Of course he would say that. Between Zorathys calling me Firefly and Aziren agreeing with everything Zorathys said, I was beginning to think the nickname was going to follow me for the rest of my existence... okay, well I always knew it was going to follow me so um... yeah, forget it.
"Alright," I said, still smiling. "I’ll try it."
Velira grabbed my hand immediately, her wings fluttering.
"Come on, come on, come on," she said, already pulling me toward the screen.
Thalira followed, and Brixton trailed behind with the dress clutched carefully in his hands. His ears were still red from earlier, but he seemed to have recovered somewhat. At least he wasn’t smoking anymore.
Behind the screen, the small space felt familiar now. The painted foxes watched from the panels, their eyes seeming to follow me as Velira and Thalira helped me out of the black dress and into the new one.
The moment the fabric touched my skin, I understood why Aziren had chosen it.
Unlike the previous dresses, this one was quite modest. The neckline sat high against my collarbone, and the sleeves — or rather, the lack of them — were the only immodest thing about it. The dress was sleeveless, leaving my arms bare, but the bodice covered everything else completely.
The real beauty was in the skirt.
It fell from my waist in layers upon layers of fabric, each one a different shade of red, orange, and gold. And at the bottom, running along the hem, were plaits—loose and flowing, each one catching the light differently. When I moved, even just a little, the plaits shifted and swayed, and the colours danced like flames licking at the air.
It looked like actual fire.
I turned slowly, watching the skirt move with me, and Velira gasped.
"Your Majesty," she whispered.
I smiled at her in the mirror, then stepped out from behind the screen.
The room went quiet again.
I was getting used to that by now.
Aziren clapped louder, his flames shooting up with joy. Azerion’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening slightly before he remembered to close it. Zayrion adjusted his glasses and immediately wrote something on his card, holding it up.
One hundred points.
Retheris whistled again — quieter this time, probably because Zorathys’s shadows were still hovering nearby.
Zorathys drew in a slow breath, his ruby eyes fixed on me.
"The Fire’s Spawn actually knows what he’s doing," he said, his voice carrying that lazy drawl. "The dress suits you, Firefly."
Aziren beamed at the praise, his small chest puffed out with pride.
Azerion nodded, his arms still crossed but his expression softer now.
"It looks like you’re on fire," he said.
I laughed.
"That’s the point, I think."
Zayrion wrote something else on his card and held it up again.
One thousand points.
Really? He increased the score.
Aziren’s smile somehow grew even wider.
Then Retheris stood up from his cushion, his light blue hair catching the light.
"I’m going to pick something too," he announced.
He walked over to the racks — Zorathys’s shadows parting to let him pass, which was surprising — and began searching through the clothes with an intensity I hadn’t expected from him.
A moment later, he returned.
He was holding a dress — or rather, two pieces of clothing that together formed an outfit. The fabric was light blue, almost the exact shade of his and Thalira’s hair, soft and shimmering like water under sunlight.
But unlike the other dresses I had tried, this one was different.
It was a skirt and blouse.
The top was black, cut short — a crop top, I realized, the kind that would leave my midriff bare. The sleeves were long, and I was certain they would reach all the way to my fingers, and they were made of that same strange, seamless fabric that seemed to cling without constricting. The neckline was high, like the fire dress, but the back dipped low.
The skirt was the same light blue as Retheris’s hair, flowing and soft, with layers that rippled like water when I touched it.
I looked at the outfit, then at him.
"A crop top?" I asked.
He blinked. "Is that what it’s called?"
I actually wondered if that was what it was called in the demon realm, given the fact that flip-flops were called flop-flips. Things always had different names in the demon realm compared to what I knew.
I turned to the fox demons, who nodded.
"Yes, it’s a crop top," Velira said.
Oh wow. That was quite shocking. I thought it would be called a top crop or something equally ridiculous this time.
"Oh well," I said, smiling. "Time to try this on."