Yvonna fell flat on her face into the dirt. Rising to her feet she was completely in a daze. No, she thought, this can’t be right. She looked on in a confused state as several dozen individuals were waiting outside what looked to be an extravagant party. It seemed to be a rather strange gathering, and in her scouting gear she felt a bit out of place. At least, when she had her previous bag, nobody doubted she had style. It made the standard uniform work.
Shuddering at that thought, she realized a couple of things. First, that she was indeed just like her father. At least, in her fashion priorities. Secondly, that the two young elves accepting what appeared to be bolts of cloth and gold bullions reminded her of two elves she knew. Thirdly, a gnome with pale blue-white hair and bronze fixtures inlaid in her hairstyle, bronze trimming embroidered on her mostly plum dress, her hands and feet seemed to glow from the boots and gloves she wore, and she was spying on the party from behind a tree. Yvonna, dusting herself off, and simply just had to comment on those shoulder pads, “Oh my goodness, I love your shoulder pads!”
“Thank you, I made them myself,” she says, momentarily distracted before going back to her spying.
“This is Eversong Woods,” Yvonna says, almost asking, more seriously assessing her situation now that she’d gotten that important matter out of the way. She took in more information, realizing, “That’s my house.”
That seemed to distract the little spy from her spying enough to ask the elf, “What?”
“That’s my house,” Yvonna pointed at the manor. She couldn’t believe it, so she just blurted it outright, "That looks like me over there."
It looked like her, but more importantly, that lapel coat, you couldn’t find them anymore anywhere. It was her, and the elf beside that other her was her brother Nimitta. This was that party, the one she’d forced to porter for instead of enjoy, which was excruciating considering the looks. The glamor of it all was something that still occasionally -certainly presently- filled her mind with wonder. The realization was setting in, “Oh no…”
“Hey lady, for that being your house, you don’t look real invited to me. You gotta’ pay in cloth or stupid metal to get in,” the stylish gnome spy taunts, smiling.
“Well, there’s your problem,” Yvonna says, citing a few verses of old family edicts, “When leisurely about, chin up and don’t pout. If you wish for lots of clout, with a look, scream and shout. Be fashionably late so as to accentuate the fate which spins that your arrival was pertinent to their survival.”
“Do you…” the gnome woman starts to ask suspiciously, “Always rhyme like that? Is that supposed to be social advice? You some kind of fashion scout, lady? Trying to get in on this party too?”
“Fashion scout,” Yvonna scoffs, then it hit her, she couldn’t help but to then start laughing and humoring the poor woman with a voice laced with friendly sarcasm and total nonsense, “Yes, I’m a fashion scout, I’m… reporting for the Sunreavers, you see. I scout in the field for them sometimes, too. Hot on the trail writing a lovely story.”
The young woman approaches the lovely gnome and extends out hand in greeting, introducing herself. With much skepticism, the temporal not-so-gnome accepts the friendly gesture and introduces herself in turn. The Infinite Dragon then spies herself from another tree, having been watching her own back, and gave herself a big thumbs up. It was the sign given for future friends.
“By the way, would you call that an infinite blue you’re sporting? The hair, the gloves, the boots, it works,” Yvonna genuinely complimented, a powerful image in her mind’s eye, “Though it is funny, I see a vision of you with so much more. Adorned with the Jewel of the Firelord, only it isn’t that, it is that same infinite blue though. Also, a flowing cape of glittering sand that color as well, filtering down, slightly translucent. Perhaps like those I’d seen worn in the paintings of the Sylvanas before the fourth war or that of Queen Alecstraza and Lady Ysera’s guises decades ago.”
“You know what,” the gnome flared, switching instantly to a polite tone, agreeing with the elf, “You’re onto something.”
Yvonna was stunned. The gnome snapped her fingers, and the vision that had been in her mind appeared before the scout’s eyes. This must be what Larold deals with. The gnome, who clearly was a master transmogrifier, then conjured a familiar face to admire the new look. It was clearly a fierce one.
The not-so-gnome felt more than infinite, so much more that in her own excitement she exclaimed breath taken as if in a dream, “So much Morchie.”
“I know,” the familiar face agreed with the second instance of herself, giving a debonair twirl. Relishing the moment.
Yvonna looked back to the ongoing party, the line at the entrance was growing short. If her father was inside as she suspected him of being then she’d hoped he could get her home. Yvonna thought that the gnome looked like she wanted to get into the party just as bad she did though, so she offered out of kindness, “I could probably talk our way inside.”
