It's called a slip. on At Home

Freddie Zauberhexen

May 02, 2020 7:28 PM

It's called a slip. by Freddie Zauberhexen

The soft rustling of fabric over dry grass was punctuated by footsteps that crunched steadily for all that they meandered. Nearby, a babbling brook made it impossible to see oneself in the surface of the water, but the sound was comforting and familiar, unlike the rustling. Since learning magic by wand, Freddie had noticed that he'd lost some of what his parents seemed able to do and what he'd since learned to call "hedge magic." Hana seemed to be experiencing the same thing, and they had wondered together whether that would change when they were older than seventeen. For now, Freddie was practically a muggle during the summers, which meant that his ill-fit clothes would remain ill-fit until either replaced, or tailored by someone with more skill than he. This particular garment wasn't one that Freddie was particularly interested in showing anyone who might be able to make it fit better, though.

Folds of soft purple chiffon felt like he'd caught a waterfall in his hands as he carried the material out of the way of his feet. The dress was solidly too long, but it had been inexpensive, and purple, and fit well enough to make Freddie happy. Plus, he had saved up for it on his own and purchased it from a dressmaker with the implication that it was made to be a gift. Looking back, the old woman had probably made it for Hana's dimensions.

It felt wonderful, except that . . . well, with his trousers folded up on the grass where he'd begun his walk and his legs moving freebird beneath his skirt, with only his briefs to protect him from any rubbing or movement of the gown, Freddie was finding that the fabric stuck incessantly to his legs. It would get caught in between and stick like the static that clings in the air after a thunderstorm, and he looked a bit like he was just wearing a stupid pair of trousers. This was not the first day he'd made this trip, nor was it the first time he'd discovered this problem and not had a solution.

Over the past month since they had returned from Sonora, Freddie had gone running into the woods to play before Hana could get her own time off and follow him. She didn't want to play with him in the woods as much as she had before, but she still did sometimes and he wanted to be sure no one found his stash of beautiful things. Little baubles and trinkets were stashed with the dress in a box he'd made in the woods, although he had discovered that rings had sizes and earrings required piercings.

With a sigh, Freddie stopped and let go of his skirt to reach down and try to sort out the clinging issue. Before he could, he realized that the footsteps he'd heard had not stopped and had, apparently, not just been his own. He stood up sharply, his static deemed less important than what could very well be a threat to him. It was clear from the sound that these were human - or humanoid - footsteps and that could mean a number of things. Perhaps Freddie was about to be grounded. Or perhaps he was about to be beat up. There were a number of options, but none of them seemed immediately positive. He wondered a bit if girls felt this scared all the time when they were snuck up on, and whether it was a side effect of wearing a dress or if folks just weren't nice to people who wore dresses.

To Freddie's surprise, the person who came into view from around a tree was wearing skirts of their own. They were not the same as Hana's or mama's, and Freddie was torn between blanching and blushing. A basket of laundry obscured the wearer's face and Freddie realized he'd stumbled upon someone's washing area.

He tried to take a step back but stepped on the hem of his skirt and landed fell, landing with a crunch that may have been a branch or may have been the sound of all his joints crackling at once. That and his soft "oof" caught the person's attention and they - she, now that he could see their face - moved the basket to see what the sound was.

Freddie recognized the girl from the village, although he didn't think he'd spoken to her before. She was just a few years younger than he was, and lived with her family. They were Muggles but had benefited from the Zauberhexens' magic, as had most people who lived nearby. She blinked bright blue eyes in shock, looking at him around wisps of blonde hair that had fallen out of a bun Freddie, for his part, stared up at her with mild, tingling horror.

"It sticks to my legs when I walk," he blurted, figuring he may as well be honest since his number was up now.

The girl blinked - Aliana was her name, he remembered - and set down her basket of laundry. Her face was thoughtful for a moment before she bent down and began rifling through the clothes she'd come to wash. Freddie took it as his opportunity to get himself righted and he did his best to get a look at the back of his dress to see whether he'd ruined it. Luck was on his side for a number of reasons it turned out, because he had neither torn nor stained any bit of the chiffon. When he looked back at Aliana, she was holding a piece of shiny white fabric of her own.

"I have to wash it," she explained, unfolding it in front of her own skirt to show that it was a sort of thin tubular item. "It's a slip. You wear it under skirts so your skirts don't stick to your legs."

Freddie blinked, surprised, and gaped for a moment. "You're . . . helping me?" he confirmed.

Aliana's eyebrows came together for a moment and it was a bit like two little fishes coming together for a kiss. "Of course. You fell down and you need help. Skirts, heels, braids, they all take practice."

Without waiting for him to reply, she left her laundry basket, hoisted her own skirts out of the way, and jogged to the side of the river, where she did a quick wash of the item - the "slip." She wrung it out and brought it back, holding it out for him to take.

"We have several. One won't be missed. Try it out once it's dry."

Freddie accepted the slip sort of automatically, as that was the most natural response to being handed something. "Thank you," he murmured, not sure what to feel or think.

Aliana nodded and then looked him over. "You look nice. Do you want me to hem it for you?" she pointed at the bottom where the fabric was clearly too long.

He didn't answer, not sure whether he should. Aliana just shrugged. "If I'm here when you take it off, or if there's another day that's better, just leave it with my basket." She stooped and retrieved her basket, and then turned to the river, marching along the path to continue what she'd begun. "Have a nice day, Friederike Albert," she said, her voice smiling.

Freddie smiled too.

22 Freddie Zauberhexen It's called a slip. 1452 1 5

Johana Leonie Zauberhexen

May 03, 2020 11:03 AM

That's what you've given us. by Johana Leonie Zauberhexen

CW: Homophobia, ciscentrism/transphobia

Johana Leonie was perfectly content to help her parents with the folks who needed healing, to mix things and smash things and wrap things as necessary. She thought a lot about Kai, and wondered how to put words on all the feelings she was feeling, in any language. He was set to come visit towards the end of summer, but until then, Johana Leonie could only contemplate things. She was surprised, then, when she had any room at all to notice that Friederike Albert had been a lot more absent this summer than usual. He didn't exactly seem defensive, but he wasn't famous for his subtlety either and it was clear that he was glancing over his shoulder one too many times before he'd head into the woods.

Usually, Johana Leonie hadn't finished her own work before Freddie got back, so she couldn't go out to find him or to play with him. However, she wasn't expected to work every day and she was getting increasingly frustrated at how little her brother was doing around the house.

Finally, she waited for him to leave home and get a good head start before she went after him. They both knew these woods better than anyone else and they knew each other best, too. She knew which sorts of trails would have appealed to him and which he would've preferred not to take, and which had the noisiest flora for her to avoid. That turned out to be a good choice because soon she could hear her brother and someone else talking in low voices. The nearby brook was babbling a bit louder than they were, but Johana Leonie knew Friederike Albert's voice well enough to be confident it was him. And maybe a girl?

She approached from the side and found her brother on the ground, seeming to have fallen there, and a girl with a laundry basket facing him. When her brother stood up he was . . . wearing a dress. It wasn't even a dress she recognized so it couldn't be a prank to steal hers or her mother's outfit. What was he doing? What was the girl doing??? Why was she helping him?

Johana Leonie remained hidden as their conversation began and end, and she watched in horror as her brother learned what a slip was. That wasn't appropriate. He had helped with laundry before and undoubtedly knew all the different type sinful clothing there were, but he shouldn't be given his very own to wear. He shouldn't need to wear one at all. But he looked so happy, and more relaxed than Johana Leonie had seen him in a long time. And he'd been with a girl, so maybe that was good, right? At least he wasn't out here dressed like a girl, spending time with boys and having improper conversations.

She immediately regretted thinking that. She'd thought it was sweet and lovely when the prefect at the Ball danced with a boy. Why was she so against it now when her brother might be like them? It was different though, because her brother was pretending to be a girl, not just liking a boy.

Her indecision and shock kept her rooted to her hiding place behind a bush long after Friederike Albert and the girl disappeared along their own separate ways, and she hung her head, putting her hands on her face. What was she meant to do? Tell her parents? Not tell them? Maybe she could ask Kai to help. But that would mean admitting it to him, and Friederike Albert would know that she'd seen and that she'd told someone else. That wasn't what their relationship was like.

Another idea came to mind and she looked up again, cocking her head to listen better. She could hear the river and . . . there! She gathered her own skirts in her hands to keep from snagging them on anything and followed the sound of a fabric rustling over footsteps.

22 Johana Leonie Zauberhexen That's what you've given us. 1432 0 5