Chapter 8: With Peace comes a New…Witch? (8)
"This old man...really had nothing left..." Demond sobbed, as she looked around her restored old hut. The dragon's runes crammed the wooden walls, ground and ceiling, creating a dizzying array of magic that she recognised as 'time magic' for reversing the damage for their confrontation.
Yet her old pile of robes were...not here. The hut had been restored, but it was eerily empty of any personal belongings. Adrei watched him with a knowing look, her human form still smiling despite the gravity of the situation. "I believe your daughter's room will provide the necessary attire. After all, you are now closer to her size than your former self."
"Do you believe that there would be anything remaining after your Dragon Stinky Breath of the Year?" Demond retorted, though the hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips. He knew he had to get dressed before facing Alice. The thought of her reaction was both exhilarating and terrifying.
"Well...there is still an option..." The witch's brows furrowed, as she uttered a magic incantation and a gust of wind swept through the room. A moment later, a set of clothes floated from somewhere in the hut, landing neatly in front of her. The garments were not his old mage robes, but rather something more... elegant, something that screamed of a royal court.
The dragon watched with a wry smile as she glanced at the... 'showy' outfit. "Old man, I always knew your mind was made of kinky stuff, but I never knew you had a thing for-"
"S-shut it! This is only a habit of collecting costumes from my old times!" Demond snatched the outfit from the air with a huff, feeling his cheeks burn even brighter than the dragon's flames. "Besides, try living in the middle of the woods with no TVs, wifis or a Sw*tch! This habit of mine is the least of your worries!"
She looked down at the elegant outfit in front of her, the fabric shimmering with an ethereal glow that the old man casted to protect the silk, even with his dying breath. It was definitely not something she would have chosen for herself, but under the circumstances, she had little say in the matter.
After telling the dragon not to look and dressing herself in the restroom, the witch examined herself in the mirror. The outfit was a royal robe, a deep shade of blue with intricate gold stitching along the edges. It was definitely not something she would have picked for herself, but it fit her new form surprisingly well. The fabric felt like liquid silk against her skin, and the way it clung to her curves made her feel... not entirely uncomfortable.
Yet there is still something...missing. No, not under there, but just...something that didn't quite fit the picture of this new identity that was thrust upon him. Demond looked around the restroom before sighing, hesitating for the fashion show-off to her...'husband'.