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peopleofthedas2011-10-24 10:04 pm
sagacious_rage) wrote in peopleofthedas2011-10-24 10:04 pm
Fashion BFFs, Episode 1: #BoringCon
More Formspring madness crossover modern au crackfic. Because, let's be real, that's what you people are really interested in, right?
Laica is my creation. Etain belongs toaithne. This little bit of insanity was born when Aithne and I realized that while Laica and Etain were both moderately marvelous on their own, with their powers combined the fabulousity got turned up to ELEVEN. (Please note: I don't actually know anything about how the fashion industry works. My research has consisted of watching marathons of Project Runway, really liking the movie Zoolander, and seeing previews for The Devil Wears Prada.)
And so Iinflict uponbring you...
Fashion BFFs!
cover byaithne
Episode 1: #BoringCon
“Etain, darling!” Laica’s cheerful trill echoed through Etain’s echoing, minimalist design studio. “I’m baa-aack!”
Shoving his glasses up on his forehead and pushed himself back from the drafting table to greet his friend, his muse, his partner-in-crime: Laica (the woman who needed no last name) as she swept in like she owned the place (as always).
“Laica, darling! I’ve missed you. Cumberland is such a bore without you.” He grinned as they exchanged air kisses. “How was Diarsmuid?”
“Brilliant! Sebastian and I had a lovely time.” Laica wandered over to one of the 360 degree mirrors and preened, admiring her tan. “Of course, it’s hard not to in Rivain.” She turned and clapped her hands together, ready to get down to business. “So, what have you been working on? Show me show me show me!”
Etain pulled his glasses back down and returned to the drafting table. “I had this idea for orange pants... But it’s not really working out the way I wanted.”
Laica pranced over, instantly intrigued. “Orange pants? For your women’s line?”
“No,” he shook his head. “The men’s. I was thinking if I got the pattern right it might--”
He was interrupted by Laica’s phone buzzing. “Oh, bother. I’m sorry, darling,” she frowned in apology as she took the call.
“Who is it?” he stage-whispered.
“Sorsha! Darling!” Laica chirped before covering the bottom of her phone with her hand and mouthing Lady A with barely contained delight. “Why, no, I wasn’t planning on going to Denerim any time soon. Why?”
Etain made a face. Denerim. Occasionally they would come out with something interesting to do with wool, and often a decent place to find fur trim. But otherwise? Not exactly a fashion destination.
Laica whirled on him, eyes round and mouth wide. “The what?! Why didn’t I-- Maker’s balls, Sorsha! That’s the same week as Fall Fashion Week in Rialto! I can’t go!” she wailed in dismay.
Etain flailed, grabbing a tissue and a bottle of sparkling water, leading Laica to sit on the overstuffed ottoman, the only decorative piece of furniture in the design studio.
“No, I’m afraid Etain can’t go, either.” Laica pouted, her expression mournful. “Oh, this is dreadful. We’ll miss you all so terribly.” She was silent, and Etain could hear Sorsha’s attempt at comforting her (Which, honestly, Sorsha was never particularly skilled at. Not that Laica made such things easy.)
“Yes, well. Keep me notified. I’ll be tracking your Tweets and I want to know everything, darling.” Laica sighed. “Yes, yes, you too. Let me know the next time you’re in town. We’ll do brunch.” Laica hung up, still mournful.
“What is it?” Etain asked, petting her hair.
“They’re all going to the MCM Expo in Denerim and Gideon Emery and Adam Howden and Eve Myles and all sorts of fabulous people are going to be there and they’re all going to have the most marvelous time while we’re watching the latest Autumn Antivan Abomination on the runway.” Laica pouted, flinging her phone.
“Oh, don’t do that, darling,” Etain chided, nudging her. “Fall Fashion week in Rialto has always been your favorite.”
“True. But they’re going to be having so much more fun! Holly Socks is going to be there, too! And the Divine Mister Dysc! And Fanny Cousland! Etain! Everybody interesting is going to be at the MCM Expo. And we’re stuck in stupid boring Rialto for stupid boring Fashion Week.”
Etain sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to drink their share of champagne, won’t we?”
That got a smile.
“Now, come help me with these orange pants. I need to make them work.”
Laica fluffed her hair and scampered over to fetch her phone. “Fine. But if Orana doesn’t let me know that there are other options next year during Fashion Week, I’m going to find a new personal assistant.”
Laica is my creation. Etain belongs to
aithne. This little bit of insanity was born when Aithne and I realized that while Laica and Etain were both moderately marvelous on their own, with their powers combined the fabulousity got turned up to ELEVEN. (Please note: I don't actually know anything about how the fashion industry works. My research has consisted of watching marathons of Project Runway, really liking the movie Zoolander, and seeing previews for The Devil Wears Prada.)And so I
cover by
aithne“Etain, darling!” Laica’s cheerful trill echoed through Etain’s echoing, minimalist design studio. “I’m baa-aack!”
Shoving his glasses up on his forehead and pushed himself back from the drafting table to greet his friend, his muse, his partner-in-crime: Laica (the woman who needed no last name) as she swept in like she owned the place (as always).
“Laica, darling! I’ve missed you. Cumberland is such a bore without you.” He grinned as they exchanged air kisses. “How was Diarsmuid?”
“Brilliant! Sebastian and I had a lovely time.” Laica wandered over to one of the 360 degree mirrors and preened, admiring her tan. “Of course, it’s hard not to in Rivain.” She turned and clapped her hands together, ready to get down to business. “So, what have you been working on? Show me show me show me!”
Etain pulled his glasses back down and returned to the drafting table. “I had this idea for orange pants... But it’s not really working out the way I wanted.”
Laica pranced over, instantly intrigued. “Orange pants? For your women’s line?”
“No,” he shook his head. “The men’s. I was thinking if I got the pattern right it might--”
He was interrupted by Laica’s phone buzzing. “Oh, bother. I’m sorry, darling,” she frowned in apology as she took the call.
“Who is it?” he stage-whispered.
“Sorsha! Darling!” Laica chirped before covering the bottom of her phone with her hand and mouthing Lady A with barely contained delight. “Why, no, I wasn’t planning on going to Denerim any time soon. Why?”
Etain made a face. Denerim. Occasionally they would come out with something interesting to do with wool, and often a decent place to find fur trim. But otherwise? Not exactly a fashion destination.
Laica whirled on him, eyes round and mouth wide. “The what?! Why didn’t I-- Maker’s balls, Sorsha! That’s the same week as Fall Fashion Week in Rialto! I can’t go!” she wailed in dismay.
Etain flailed, grabbing a tissue and a bottle of sparkling water, leading Laica to sit on the overstuffed ottoman, the only decorative piece of furniture in the design studio.
“No, I’m afraid Etain can’t go, either.” Laica pouted, her expression mournful. “Oh, this is dreadful. We’ll miss you all so terribly.” She was silent, and Etain could hear Sorsha’s attempt at comforting her (Which, honestly, Sorsha was never particularly skilled at. Not that Laica made such things easy.)
“Yes, well. Keep me notified. I’ll be tracking your Tweets and I want to know everything, darling.” Laica sighed. “Yes, yes, you too. Let me know the next time you’re in town. We’ll do brunch.” Laica hung up, still mournful.
“What is it?” Etain asked, petting her hair.
“They’re all going to the MCM Expo in Denerim and Gideon Emery and Adam Howden and Eve Myles and all sorts of fabulous people are going to be there and they’re all going to have the most marvelous time while we’re watching the latest Autumn Antivan Abomination on the runway.” Laica pouted, flinging her phone.
“Oh, don’t do that, darling,” Etain chided, nudging her. “Fall Fashion week in Rialto has always been your favorite.”
“True. But they’re going to be having so much more fun! Holly Socks is going to be there, too! And the Divine Mister Dysc! And Fanny Cousland! Etain! Everybody interesting is going to be at the MCM Expo. And we’re stuck in stupid boring Rialto for stupid boring Fashion Week.”
Etain sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to drink their share of champagne, won’t we?”
That got a smile.
“Now, come help me with these orange pants. I need to make them work.”
Laica fluffed her hair and scampered over to fetch her phone. “Fine. But if Orana doesn’t let me know that there are other options next year during Fashion Week, I’m going to find a new personal assistant.”