A Dress By Any Other Name

[Wren Watson]

Dated late December 30th, 1883

Wren landed with a pop in front of Gus' house. Apperating had come back to her with little difficulty. In another life she'd done it all the time when they were on the run; it was one of the many skills she'd picked up from John before the witch blasted him apart, most of which were not exactly skills respectable people picked up.

She was the picture of dejection as she came up to the threshold that was still disorientingly huge to her. She'd trapped Gus in his home like a cat chases a mouse into it's hole and perched in front of that door too many times to feel right with just walking through it with out another thought.

It was as close to her home as anything and she pushed open the door with out knocking. "They took mah robes." She muttered in a defeated grumble. With slumped shoulders, dragging feet, and a scowl on her face her body language made up for her short words. She wore a dress instead, donated by Violet. It fit but did not sit quite right partly because it was not made for her but mostly because she'd violently refused a corset.

  

[Angus MacFusty]

DATE: December 29th, 1883
TAG: Wren
WORDS: 357
NOTES:

Having a human Gertie around instead of a dragon Gertie was very strange for Gus. He didn't really know what to do with the sudden free time he had not having to clean up after and prevent dragon rampages. It was only a matter of time before he got a new dragon, he couldn't help but wonder what Gertie would have to say about that now that she actually could speak her mind in a language that wasn't roaring at him until he felt certain he was deaf. Would she be jealous? He found himself sort of hoping she would be, now that he was no longer in danger of being barbecued alive by her, teasing her had become exceedingly entertaining. Actually, that wasn't really true. Gus had always found fun in taunting her when she'd been quite capable of murdering him in various violent ways but now he felt he could taunt her more effectively now that he was sure she understood.

Perhaps he missed trying to avoid becoming dragon chow and teasing her to make her mad filled the void.

The idea of his former dragon taking tips from Hamish's dainty little wife on how to be a proper lady was a never-ending source of amusement to Gus who just liked to imagine dragon-Gertie in a ridiculous frilly pink dress. Maybe one day he'd be allowed to observe but he might just expire from too much laughter.

Lying on the floor with his feet resting on the couch and his hand resting on a half eaten sandwich which was using his chest as a plate, he snored lightly until the sound of the door opening stirred him and he hastily shoved the sandwich in his mouth as though he'd never stopped for a quick nap. It seemed is not-dragon had returned and had been stuffed in a dress. Gus choked on his sandwich for a moment, finding the sight twice as hilarious from his upside down position. Once he cleared his airways enough to speak, he spluttered mockingly, "How d'ye do, Milady?" He followed this with a gale of laughter and intermittent choking on bread.

  

[Wren Watson]

Gus was always a convenient segue to her preferred emotion of irritation. It was far more comfortable than embarrassment or vulnerability. She narrowed her eyes at him and she slammed the door behind her. How had she avoided killing him for so long? Annoying brute that he was. "And ye jest laying out, bare as a baby dragon." She sneered, his current position, not exactly ideal for kilt-wearing. He could be half naked as much as he wanted but she couldn't have her robes?

She set off right for him, not sure whether she was going to step on his face or kick him until she got there but settled for the less maim-y option of kicking the fleshy part of his upper arm before heading right for his bedroom like it was hers. The sound of her riffling through things came through the door before she reemerged. "Jest look at this thing!" she spat, griping the ample skirts in demonstration. She did not have words for how ridiculous it looked and felt. "An' what is this?" she turned to the side, showing the bustle. She knew she'd never worn dresses like this in her old life.

"An' the underthings!" she said, having retreated back to his room again. "S'like they think ah'm going to fall apart or fly away." She riffled through his things some more, determined to find a replacement for the robes they'd taken away from her.

  

[Angus MacFusty]

DATE: December 29th, 1883
TAG: Wren
WORDS: 154
NOTES:

He continued laughing at the remark about his attire; it wasn't the ideal position for wearing a kilt if one wanted to protect their modesty but he wasn't showing anything off at least. "Ah didnae realize ye were picking up prudery as well as dresses," he retorted after she kicked him and retreated to his room. He waited a moment until his laughter had died down to take a safe bite of his sandwich.

As soon as she came out again, he resumed his laughter. She looked so ridiculous to him, not because she actually looked any more ridiculous than other girls but she used to be a dragon and she was a feisty human in her own right and seeing her in 'proper' attire was beyond laughable. "Ah think ye fergot the corset," he pointed out with more laughter. The lack of one made her look more comical than she would otherwise.

  

[Wren Watson]

She left his drawers a mess as she delved through them, trying to find something that wouldn't be like a tent on her. She cursed what ever divines that were listening that Gus was a giant. A giant. "Jest because ahm nae impressed doesnae make me a prude!" She shouted, sending a candle stick hurtling through the doorway of his bedroom in his general direction.

She settled on on something and slammed his door shut. Just because he had no shame didn't mean she'd be giving him a free show. She spun in a circle trying to figure out of to get the damn thing off. After no small amount of wrestling she manages to listen it enough to slide it down over her hips, step out of it, and leave it in a heap on the floor. "Forget?! Nae they tried." She snorted derisively. "They tried." She pulled the shirt over her head, and it drapped over her as shapeless as a bed sheet and fell past her knees. Still she pulled on the matching trousers muttering 'tried' to herself, with a hint of smugness this time.

when she finally reemerged from his room, holding the oversized outfit on. "Where is your wand?" she demanded.

  

[Angus MacFusty]

DATE: December 29th, 1883
TAG: Wren
WORDS: 147
NOTES:

His laughing continued despite the assassination attempt with a candlestick. Thankfully it just missed him. Just. "Tryin' tae kill me? It'll take a bit more than a wee candlestick!" He was quite certain that if human Gertie had wanted to kill him, she would have done so already and so he was not at all afraid of her actually trying to hurt him. He'd probably be worried if she didn't try to regularly assault him.

She finally came out of his room, no longer wearing the dress. She looked silly still but not quite as hilarious. She asked after his wand and he assumed she wanted to shrink his clothes to fit her or maybe she just wanted to try setting his ass on fire that way. "Depends which wand yer talkin' about," he dared to remark, unable to stop himself from smirking at his own words.

  

[Wren Watson]

He really was taking advantage of the fact that she couldn't spit fire at him at any given moment, despite Grams' promise to take care of things if he didn't behave himself. Not that he did anything overt to her; She'd have definitely clawed his eyes out if he tried. But this banter of his was certainly worse than when she was a dragon and it was just as frustrating as the fact that she'd been stuffed into that ridiculous heap of fabric when he was allowed to lounge about in next to nothing.

A sweep of the room was all it took for her to find his wand resting on the fireplace mantle. She snatched and spun on her heels to head for him, her pant legs dragging on the ground with seething every step. "This one." The wand tip was pointed decidedly at his groin area.

  

[Angus MacFusty]

DATE: December 29th, 1883
TAG: Wren
WORDS: 120
NOTES:

He couldn't help himself, she looked so silly draped in his ill-fitting clothes and storming across the room. She'd not been this amusing as a dragon! Well it was funny at least until she was pointing his wand in the general direction of his nether regions. His laughter came to a slow stop as he stared up at her and hastily covered his endangered area with his hands.

"Ah wouldnae do that if Ah were ye," he gave her a sheepish look as he debated how in danger he currently was. She wouldn't actually do it, would she? "The shirt suits ye by the way," he stated conversationally, as if that would make her redirect the aim of her wand.

  

[Wren Watson]

"Aww why nae?" She said in mock disappointment, like a child being dissuaded from a sweet. She held the wand steadily and relished the fact that she'd made him stop laughing for the moment. She might not be able to decapitate him in one swipe any more but she could pose a significant threat to his manbits.

"I dunnae think anyone would miss it." she reasoned, nodding with certainty.

  

[Angus MacFusty]

DATE: December 29th, 1883
TAG: Wren
WORDS: 121
NOTES:

It was a good things dragons couldn't use wands, he'd probably have been castrated and torn to shreds ages ago. Unfortunately, he was apparently still in danger of losing his little kilt buddies. "Ah disagree! Lots 'f folk would be very disappointed!" Well that was a lie she would surely see through. The only people who were likely to be disappointed were his parents and grandmother who would be mourning grandchildren rather than his body parts.

He wanted to tag on a somewhat lewd remark but restrained himself in case she actually did something. How would he face his family again? "Ah'm very popular with the lasses in Hogsmeade." Another lie she'd see through but he couldn't seem to help himself.

  

[Wren Watson]

"Yeh keep sayin' that." She said as if completely unconvinced but humoring him none the less. She realized he might keep his wand less within her reach from now on... which would suck because she didn't have a wand of her own... but it was really way too satisfying to see him at least momentarily regarding her with the same kind of deference he used to. It was too good not to exploit.

"Ah think Ah'd be doing them a favor, really."

  

[Angus MacFusty]

DATE: December 29th, 1883
TAG: Wren
WORDS: 75
NOTES:

"Nae, ye'd cause an angry mob tae form demandin' ye fix me!" He hadn't had sex with enough people to even form a mob, one person wasn't really a mob no matter how you looked at it. She didn't need to know that though. He reached for his nearly forgotten sandwich (with a hand still shielding his manparts) which was getting a little dry and took a slow bite. "Mmmmm tasty," he mumbled through bread.

  

[Wren Watson]

She merely raised her eyebrows at his claim that an angry mob would be after her if she castrated him. She all but knew with certainty that this was not the case. And even if he managed to score a half-dozen angry damsels, she wasn't super concerned. When she was young she'd once over heard a maid say 'There's always a willing dick.' and it was something she'd believed from then on. His lovers would find comfort somewhere, she was sure.

When he resumed his munching in such an obnoxious way she finally dropped her wand, rolling her eyes. "Ye are absurd and ah dunnae know how ye are still alive." She brandished the wand in his general direction for emphasis before turning it on her garments. Really, the longer she stayed in his house the more amazed she became that she had not actually killed him when she was a dragon

  

[Angus MacFusty]

DATE: December 29th, 1883
TAG: Wren
WORDS: 111
NOTES:

He breathed a sigh of relief when she finally lowered the wand from his Mini-MacFusty creation zone. "Mah former dragon - an ol' grumpy lassie she were - liked tae make it look like she didnae want me alive but she liked me really. Mustae been mah handsome face and mah long flowin' hair."

He'd be lucky if she didn't point his wand back at his groin area again but he just couldn't help himself. He was far more brazen now than when she had been enormous and capable of impaling him on a tree limb and then spit-roasting him over her fiery breath. Perhaps he felt a little too safe.

  

[Wren Watson]

The garments did not shrink evenly but she didn't care. It wasn't her wand after all and she really didn't remember any specific spells so it was a miracle that she was able to produce any kind of results. They hung strangely lopsided on her but all she needed was for them to be small enough to stay up... or at least fitted enough that a belt could hold them up. There were scorch marks left on the fabric where the wand had touched but all of hat aside it was a satisfactory patch-job.

She had gone back to retrieve the joke they wanted her to walk around in from his bedroom floor. Oddly it pained her to hear him talking so casually about his dragon. Human life was not all it was cracked up to be. and after the decades of dreaming about being human again, she had found herself in the odd position of having dreams about being a dragon.

It was the bit about his hair though. Everything he said was to needle her but that was the last straw. He knew she hated his long hair but what he probably didn't know is that in all her efforts to shrink some of his clothes down she'd discovered how to produce fire with his wand and burnt his shirt to ashes in the process She'd like to think it was well aimed but it was probably just lucky that the little fireball she hurled at him landed with a satisfying little explosion on the floor by his head. She'd given him a haircut before and would gladly do so again.

  

[Angus MacFusty]

DATE: December 29th, 1883
TAG: Wren
WORDS: 169
NOTES:

Apparently he had aggravated her a little too far for a sudden whoosh of fire very nearly hit him. He sat up very suddenly, to get away from the blast and watched with dismay as his sandwich tumbled to the ground. He didn't realize how much he'd missed nearly being roasted alive, in believing her to be completely harmless, he'd come to a point of complacency he hadn't had in a very long time.

"Usin' mah own wand tae set me on fire with? Tha's just rude!" She probably ought to have her own wand really, he didn't fancy being on the receiving end of an attack from a wand that cooperated fully with her but all wizards and witches ought to have a wand, their magic was a part of who they were. "Ye made me lose mah sandwich too! Ah was enjoyin' that." Although he wished his sandwich wasn't spoiled, his general tone was lighthearted; there were a thousand sandwiches where that one had come from.