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“Woefully Underdressed”

As Fae Awenia comes more into focus, I’m spending more and more time in the newer parts of the Realm and letting others do the last-minute items in preparation for when the paperwork’s all filed and we have an adoring public to think about! So many mundane Realms have opened themselves up to the Fae community; I can’t think why there are there aren’t more places like ours springing up.

Anyway, I had been so busy working on the trees in our little residential settlement I had barely seen the town centre in weeks, so I made arrangements to meet Nathaniel at one of the new, posh restaurants off the village green. Bran assured me when he made the reservation that the place was now fully staffed with professional (fae) waitstaff directly from Nu Jyorck, so I was looking forward to m visit.

The moment I walked in, I knew which table had been reserved for Nathaniel and me. I was only a couple of minutes early, but he was nowhere to be seen (no big surprise there).

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“Madame, I’m sorry, but this table is reserved.”

“Madame,” said a soft tenor, “I’m sorry,” (he did not actually sound sorry), “but this table is reserved.”

“Yes,” I replied. “I know it’s reserved.” Oh, this was going to be fun.

The impeccably dressed waiter looked down at me. He had the soft features of a half-elf, possibly raised in a large enough city that his instincts about the blood wouldn’t be as well honed as ours in Faerie are. Or possibly he was just ignorant. He pasted on a smile. “Yes, Madame; we are expecting a very important guest tonight, and I’m afraid this table is reserved for that guest and their companion.”

I nodded. “Yes, I can see that,” I replied. “The table looks beautiful, by the way: well done.”

“And I’m terribly sorry, Madame,” (Again, he did not actually sound very sorry), “but I’ll have to ask you to choose another eating establishment for this evening. Our dress code is…” he searched his mind for a descriptor. “Well, you are woefully underdressed.”

I stood, and for the first time the waiter appeared slightly more relaxed. Perhaps he was relieved that I was going to comply with his request that I vacate the premises.

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“So,” I said. “I’m woefully underdressed for the establishment?”

“So,” I said. “I’m woefully underdressed for the establishment?” It was hard not to laugh. The poor waiter was now worried he’d got the town nutter. Which, I suppose, I am.

“That is correct, Madame,” he said. He was starting to act nervous.

There was whispering from the kitchen; I suspected there were those who knew me in the ranks, taking bets on how the encounter might proceed. I heard a soft titter. Nobody approached the table: it was just me and the waiter.

“So if I changed my attire?” I fiddled with the button of my jeans, just to make him more nervous.

His eyes went wide. “Not here, Madame!” he exclaimed. “But certainly, if you wanted to perhaps go home, freshen up…..”

I stared into the nearby candle flame. “You mean….”

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“I should look more like this?” I asked. 

“I should look more like this?” I asked.

And then of course the penny dropped. There were high-fives and guffaws from the kitchen; the waiter’s face turned first purple, then red. Before he could catch himself, he said, “Oh, shit.” He swallowed. “I’m … I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.” He went down on one knee.

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I moved closer to him. “Don’t worry,” I said. “Happens all the time.” 

I moved closer to him. He took a step back. “Don’t worry,” I said. “Happens all the time.”

He looked up at me and swallowed. “If you’re sure, Your Majesty.”

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“Of course,” I replied. “No harm done. Well, except for insulting your Queen, but that’s hardly serious, right?”

“Of course,” I replied. “No harm done. Well, except for insulting your Queen, but that’s hardly serious, right?”

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“It’s not as if there’s a painting of me here, yes?” I gestured casually to the painting of me on the opposite wall.

“It’s not as if there’s a painting of me here, yes?” I gestured casually to the painting of me on the opposite wall.

“Yes, Your Majesty, but you were…” He glanced up briefly.

“Yes, I know. Woefully underdressed. Tristan, is it?”

“That’s right, Your Majesty.” His knuckles were white against his britches.

“Bran!”

“Yes, My Lady?” My majordomo is so good about coming when he is called.

“This one needs to come and work for us, I think.”

The waiter (Tristan) turned even more pale.

“As you wish, My Lady. Come along, young Tristan.” Bran held out a hand to the young waiter, and when the fellow took his hand, they disappeared immediately.

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“What?” I directed my remarks to the kitchen now. “It’s hard to find good help!”

“What?” I directed my remarks to the kitchen now. “It’s hard to find good help! That young man was ready to toss a Fae Queen out onto the streets, in order to protect the experience of the Fae Queen! I’ll have him as a footman for at least the next fifty years.”

Just then, Nathaniel came into the restaurant, having missed the whole scene (not unusual). “Don’t you look beautiful, my love!” he said, his eyes warming as he smiled at me. “I feel woefully underdressed next to you!”

Now, no one does bemused like my Nathaniel, so when the entire staff erupted into hysterics, he was the most bemused Husband and Consort ever.

Dinner was excellent, by the way.

Style Card:
Body: Maitreya
Head: Vista Bento Mesh Head, Lia
Skin: 7 Deadly s{K}ins, Helana
Eyes: Mesange, Sanford Eyes
Sweater: Noble Creations, Winter Furry Shirt (Available NOW at The Season’s Story!)
Jeans: Semller, 25 Point Jeans
Boots, Reign, Palia Boots
Hair: Analog Dog (natch!), Hannah (NEW in the Analog Dog Main Store!)
Posh Dress: Witch)O(Craft, Music of the Night Dress (Available NOW at Garden of Shadows Fair!)
Posh Crown: Shanghai, Nymph Crown

Restaurant Background: Cubic Cherry, Lovely Corner (Available NOW at The Season’s Story!)
Table, Chairs, and Yummy Cake: Kalopsia, Gold and Roses (Available NOW at Collabor88!)
Clock: The Plastik, Waine Clock
Sparklies: DDD, Wisp Spirits, Color
Trees: Roawenwood, Winter White Wedding Trees (Available NOW at The Trunk Show!)

One thought on ““Woefully Underdressed”

  1. Bemused. Hmmm, yes. I think that has been pretty much my permanent state of mind since you entered my life, my love. They will probably write it on my gravestone in the unlikely event of me ever having one. I wouldn’t change things for the world, though.
    I wonder if Tristan would like dusting books. Is that a footman thing? My library has been gathering dust somewhat, and it’s about time I moved it.

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