When Elua had stepped toward her Silver dress, draped over on a sitting chair like an important piece of loungewear, Qatrand made a short cough that was *not* an order but was definitely felt as a strong suggestion. Which is why the hem of a spare house robe from the guest wardrobe now kissed the floor while the brunette made her way toward Rezzue's room. She'd owned a few of the garments as a child, but did not actually possess one that would fit her well… at her current height. Nor were there any dresses around except her new white one fit for size at her current bust.
'A dress is a dress, I guess. I've lived in places that fully considered these proper clothes after all. Pretty sure the continent took the design from the southern isles in the first place.'
