hh_mirror | closed RP: Camilla and Susan go shopping.

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closed RP: Camilla and Susan go shopping.

Traveling had always made Camilla nervous. Her parents had both died in a car accident when she was almost too young to remember; the dangers of travel weren't just statistical abstraction. Her quest to bring Henry back from the dead had made her intrepid in comparison to what she once had been, but she still couldn't get onto a train, or into an airplane, or even take a car ride of more than a few hours, without real trepidation.

She'd been delighted to learn that wizards could Apparate. Her safety wasn't reliant now on the vagaries of machinery or of other travelers, only on her own talent, and she'd proven quite talented indeed, which came as little surprise to her. Splinching was the only danger, and she knew she wouldn't splinch.

About Susan, she couldn't be certain. The greater the distance, the more difficult the Apparition. Even if Susan didn't splinch, Camilla wanted to be certain they ended up in the same place. Fortunately, she'd made a point to learn Side-Along Apparition, when she'd first hired tutors, long before Henry had arrived. She wasn't sure what he'd be capable of doing if she were able to resurrect him. The ability stood her in good stead now.

They had to Apparate into an inconspicuous place, and take taxis from there. Camilla's planned destination was Knightsbridge, but along the way, she wanted to stop at a rather obscure rare-book dealer, and that was nowhere near the shopping street. Brisk, all business -- they had to get all this done in a day! -- she towed Susan along.

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Susan, so far as she knew, had never Apparated before, but being guided by Camilla meant she didn't have to do anything.

Apparation might have been nothing, but she wasn't at all prepared for London. Cars--taxis--the sheer amount of noise. Ankh-Morpork was huge, and loud, but it was huge and loud in a very different way. So much of what she saw even from the taxi (and gods, wasn't that odd, moving in a vehicle powered by neither horses nor magic) was wholly strange and often bewildering--people walking down the sidewalk with small rectangles held against their ears, talking animatedly; groups of tourists with what had to be cameras, though they looked nothing like the cameras at Hogwarts. Suddenly, for perhaps the first time in her life, Susan felt horribly out of her depth.

"Is most of the outside world like this?" she asked, both disturbed and fascinated.

Camilla looked at Susan, surprised. "You know, that's a really tough question to answer," she said. "A good question, but tough to answer. Most of the outside world isn't like this. Most of the outside world is covered by water. Two-thirds of the planet, I think. Also, most of the habitable world isn't like this. London is one of the largest cities in the world, and very busy. Charles and I grew up in the country, and we went to college in the country, too. Hampden town is a lot more like Hogsmeade than like London, only with cars. In that sense, yes, the outside world is like this. Cars and phones and traffic lights. If you want, you can close your eyes. We're almost at the bookshop."

Cars...phones...traffic lights...good grief. No wonder so many people at the school rarely went beyond Hogsmeade; if you weren't used to this world, it was more than a bit of a shock.

"The idea of a round planet is still so strange," she said, unable to tear her eyes away from the buildings that flashed past. "The Omnians used to believe the Disc was round, and tortured anyone who said otherwise. The wizards always wondered how a round world wouldn't lose all the water off the bottom." She'd found that out, of course, and a great many other things about the shape of this world, but it was still odd.

"There's a city on the Discworld--Ankh-Morpork--that's arguably the biggest city in the world. It's nothing like here, though; no cars or...or traffic lights. Back home, much like at school, anything like that is done by magic. The idea of a whole society living without magic...I don't know how they can do it."

"Well, but we've got our own sorts of magic," Camilla countered mildly. "I'm sure I don't have any real clue how a car works. It might as well be magic to me. It just works on different principles than wizarding magic." Just then they pulled up in front of the bookshop, and Camilla had to hurry to pay the cab driver and to urge Susan out of the car -- there hadn't been space to park, and they were blocking traffic. "We'll only be a moment in here, I promise." Once they were out on the pavement she drew a folded piece of parchment from her pocketbook. It bore a list of titles long enough to make it clear they would, in fact, not be only a moment.

Once out of the taxi, the full force of the noise and sheer strangeness hit Susan like a physical force. It was close to overwhelming, but it was also...she couldn't even think of a word. It had the same effect on her senses as a tsunami on a coastline, but that wasn't a wholly bad thing.

The bookshop, when they went in, was much more familiar; she'd heard it said that every bookstore in the multiverse is connected, and, if this was any indication, that statement was true. It smelled of old paper--like Stephen's office, oh gods--and the odd scent of binding-glue, much like the library at Unseen University. (Though here, Susan would bet, the books didn't try to eat one another.)

The bookshop seemed at first empty of any human occupants, which didn't mean there mightn't be any. "I'm going to have to find the proprietor," Camilla said, in a proper library-soft undertone, to Susan. "He'll know where all these are, and we haven't got the time to browse for them. Look around awhile? No one will bother you." And if anyone did, Camilla suspected Susan's hair might try to eat them.

She disappeared between shelves. In a few moments, her voice could be heard, still quiet but nonetheless audible, alternating with a lower masculine voice. Every now and again it was distinct enough to catch half a sentence: " ... I don't read Sinhala script (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sinhala_alphabet) myself, but ..." and " ... to be shipped ..."

Fortunately, Susan wasn't anywhere near agigated enough for her hair to be acting up. She wandered up and down the shelves, peering at the titles--some of them sounded fascinating, others absurd. She'd been interested by the book on extraterrestrials she'd found at the back of her bookcase, so she picked up another one (http://www.amazon.com/Science-Extraterrestrials-UFOs-Explained-Last/dp/1601771010/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/103-9394846-1795844?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1180060578&sr=1-1), hoping Camilla could handle the actual transaction--Muggle money was even more bizarre than wizarding currency, and that was saying something. She had no way of knowing that most of society regarded books like that as a joke, and it would not have changed her mind if she had; it was interesting, and considering some of the people at Hogwarts, she hardly found the idea far-fetched.

She made her way slowly up to the counter, perusing idly, until she came across one (http://www.amazon.com/Great-Influenza-deadliest-pandemic-history/dp/0143036491/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/103-9394846-1795844?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1180060785&sr=1-1)* she thought Stephen might like. She needed to get Ed and Winry a present, but she doubted she'd find anything they would both like in here.

*((I have this book. It is fascinating, disturbing, and in places quite scary))

Camilla emerged from a back room, together with a small elderly man. They seemed to have reached some kind of agreement, and moved together to the front of the shop, chatting quite easily. Apparently the man had once been to the States and had stayed someplace Camilla knew. She beckoned Susan over as the man bent to take carbon-copy slips from beneath the counter. "He's going to find what we want and ship them to us," she explained. It wasn't exactly accurate -- the books couldn't possibly be shipped to Hogwarts itself; they'd need to go to the nearest Muggle post office -- but Camilla obviously couldn't explain that at present. "Are those things you want? Bring them up; we'll have them shipped as well."

It was all very natural and quick, an exchange of folded money, an exchange of pleasantries, the man looking a bit bewildered in their wake as he shook his head over the list Camilla had left with him, and then they were out again, Camilla hailing another taxi. She turned to Susan, bright-cheeked and bright-eyed. "It's so nice to be out," she said.

Susan, with an unusually childlike interest, watched the money change hands--paper money was a completely foreign concept; she didn't see how anyone could take it seriously.

She followed Camilla, feeling almost as overwhelmed as the bookshop owner. Being away from Hogwarts seemed to have transformed Camilla--once again she looked almost ethereally beautiful, but Susan no longer found herself jealous. Whatever it was at the school that had her so tense, so worried, clearly wasn't a factor out here, and Susan found herself smiling.

"At least you know what you're doing," she said, looking up and down the street. "I feel like a very small fish that just got dropped in the middle of the Circle Sea."

It would have been a fair bit of folded money, though in large denominations. The list of books had been a very long one, and Camilla didn't like her book purchases to be traceable via credit card.

"I've been in London before. I stopped a while, when I was en route to Hogwarts. Just for a week. It was lovely," said Camilla, radiant. And oh, it had been. She'd been so nervous, and she'd kept thinking to herself: Julian went to Europe, when he was younger; Julian traveled, on his trust fund. Handle everything the way Julian would. It had worked magnificently -- she'd surprised herself by enjoying it, even. Not the parts involving vehicles, which consisted of white-knuckled rosary clutching and rather a lot of drinking for self-sedation, but everything else, seeing new things, walking places, staying alone in hotels.

A taxi stopped for them, and she pulled Susan in after her. "We want to go to Harvey Nics," she told the driver, who seemed to know what that meant.

The taxi driver might know what that meant; Susan had not a clue. She assumed it was some kind of tailor, the concept of the department store not being one that existed on the Disc. She was slightly skeptical about the whole dress-finding endeavor--Archancellor Ridcully had once, though she did not know it, thought her 'attractive in a skinny way', and to her mind that was not a way conducive to finding a dress. A full, corseted figure was the ideal of beauty in Discworld, and Susan...did not fit that category. At all.

Still, surprisingly, she was actually enjoying the idea of shopping. Never in her life had she gone trailing around the shops--she gave tailors money, they gave her clothes back, and that was about it. Occasionally, when she had no alternative, she'd go buy a new pair of boots. But this...this looked to be a whole different kind of experience altogether--far more so because of the novelty of the setting than because of the shopping itself.

Camilla didn't exactly fit the Discworld ideal of beauty, either; not that one got the impression that would have bothered her even if she had grown up on the Discworld and knew what said ideal was.

The destination Camilla had specified turned out to be a rather impressive edifice (http://www.harveynichols.com/output/Page143.asp). "If we can't find you a dress somewhere in here," she said as she ushered Susan through the doors, "one doesn't exist."

She had no doubt one did exist. It would probably be the first one they found, and then they'd spend an hour or two looking through others that weren't as nice, just to be sure they weren't missing anything.

For once in her life, Susan stopped and simply stared. It was impressive; hellishly so, in fact. Electric lights were an amazing thing in and of themselves, but the rest of it...good gods, perhaps she'd have to go out into the world more often, if bits of it were like this.

"I...believe you," she said, her ears barely registering Camilla's words. "Is this--are there more shops like this, or is this the only one?" The idea that there could be another of these gigantic emporia was almost inconceivable.

"Oh, there are plenty more, though not all of them quite this size," said Camilla cheerfully. "There's Harrod's on this street, but we really haven't got time for more than just this, and I don't think we'll have a hard time finding what we need here." Also, the clientele at Harrod's were a bit stuffier. Susan's hair could be excused as a fashion statement, but Camilla would rather she not have to suffer too many stares, or too critical. She set off for the directory and the elevators, fully expecting Susan to follow in her wake.

She wasn't going to give the woman time to panic.

Camilla was smart. It took a great deal to unnerve Susan sufficiently to make her panic, but Harvey Nicols' might just do it. She followed, trying not to stare like an idiot tourist, but she rather failed.

Quite fortunately, Susan was shocked that her hair couldn't move. She'd quite forgotten about it in any case; when faced with so many new and strange things, the idea of sentient hair was rather shoved onto the back-burner.

The afternoon passed in an absolute blur. Camilla handled everything and everyone, charming sullen clerks into deferential eagerness, paging through hangers upon hangers of garments the proliferation of which must have been unlike anything Susan would ever have seen. A blur, but not a rush: Camilla moved quickly, but it was very decidedly at her own pace. Almost immediately she'd ruled out the idea of red and decided that Susan's hair meant it would have to be either white or black clothing; "and you can't wear white to someone else's wedding," she told Susan, "so it'll have to be black, though that's not always the nicest thing -- you don't want it to seem mournful."

They looked for everyday things, too, for both of them, and each found several things she liked; but the major project was The Dress. As Camilla had predicted to herself, they found the right dress (http://www.bluefly.com/pages/products/zoom.jsp?PRODUCT%3C%3Eprd_id=2050094381&productCode=2072165&FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=1213) quite early on. Soon it became a process of weighing any new find against that one, until they both agreed it was futile to keep looking, because, as Camilla said, "that's clearly it." Then the battle over shoes began. Susan wanted boots. Camilla was appalled by the notion. They finally compromised (http://www.shoes.co.uk/default.aspx?scid=a2GSpnDbruIad1913d&wcid=a2GSpnDbruIad1913d&wscid=a2GSpnDbruIad1913d&pid=eKhgChGwc2gad1913d), though Camilla did not look too pleased about it.

She was happier when she took Susan up to the perfume department. Camilla had worn the same fragrance for years (http://www.escentual.co.uk/acqua_di_parma/colonia.html), ever since Henry had brought her back a bottle from Italy. For Susan, she was less certain, except that Acqua di Parma was definitely not right (even if she'd cared to share her signature scent), and she wasn't sure what was. Cue much spritzing, much sniffing of paper strips, much inhaling from little cheesecloth bags of coffee beans to clear the figurative palate, and finally Camilla thought she had the right one (http://www.aedes.com/product.php?product_id=1827). "What do you think?" she asked Susan.

Susan, for her part, had never experienced such sheer sensory overload. She could not remember when she'd come to Hogwarts, and so didn't know if she'd had the same reaction then; however, looking at everything around her, she doubted it. Hell, she doubted anything she'd seen before could have matched Harvey Nicols'--it was a very, very good thing Camilla was guiding her, because she would have been utterly at sea by herself. She'd never seen so many clothes ready-made in one place before, either; so far as she knew, there wasn't anything even close to comparable on the Disc.

The dress, however, she quite liked--she'd never owned anything like it, but that was part of its charm. Susan had gotten used to wandering around without sleeves (sometimes because they'd been ripped off, or half-burnt, or any number of other things), so it wouldn't feel awkward. And hey, it was black. She was at home in black, even if she'd never worn anything with a train in her life. The boots, too, were good enough; she'd wanted a nicer version of her high-topped boots, but Camilla had firmly vetoed that.

Now, loaded with parcels, she found herself staring almost dazed at a scented paper strip. She leaned in, sniffed, and nodded. "That one. Definitely that one." Susan had never worn perfume in her life, but apparently it was a good thing to wear with such a dress, and so must be done. This one was the only one that had really grabbed her; the rest had all seemed a bit...meh.

"I thought so," said Camilla, vindicated, and had the clerk ring it up.

Then she pronounced it time for lunch, a rather late lunch. "I'm starving," she said. "There's a nice restaurant here." Which there was, with a prix fixe menu that oughtn't to baffle Susan too much (http://www.harveynichols.com/files/pdf/MARKET%20MENU%20D%20%2022.04.07.pdf). A few choices for each course, simple enough to navigate.

She eyed Susan over the rim of her water glass. Was she tired? Excited? Both? It was hard to tell, honestly. "Makeup after this, and lingerie," she said, "and then we'll be done, I promise. Oh, and it'll be gorgeous, all of it put together." She really meant it. She was sure it would. Whether it did what Susan wanted it to, or not.

"Me too," said Susan, grateful for a chance to sit down. She actually managed the menu with little difficulty, though she didn't recognize half of what she'd just ordered.

Susan was tired, and excited...and nervous. So much so, on all three counts, that it took her a moment to register Camilla's words.

"Wait, makeup?" She'd never worn makeup, ever. "And--lingerie?" She'd definitely never bothered with that--a simple nightdress had always sufficed at home, and at Hogwarts she had her collection of T-shirts, most of which had been bought for their novelty (read: shock) value. Makeup unnerved her, but she didn't see the point of lingerie--assuming she even got, ah, where she wanted to get, there was no way of making sure that it wouldn't truly be just once. Besides, she thought--for she knew Stephen quite well--he wouldn't notice what she wore. Hell, a large part of her current nervousness was born of wondering whether he'd notice the dress, diary entry notwithstanding.

Susan didn't doubt it would be gorgeous, and that was something in and of itself--even if it...didn't work...she could at least say she owned a few nice things. She was coming to dread the idea of tomorrow, for a whole variety of reasons. And, most uncharacteristically, she said so.

"I just wish I knew this would work," she sighed. "Or even if it's the right idea. Stephen is...unpredictable and, well, intractable. I've got good reason to think he'll notice, but...that's not a guarantee. I've got to initiate the whole thing, too, because I know he wouldn't." And she had no idea when, or where, or how to do such a thing.

Camilla set down her fork and reached across the table to touch Susan's hand, comforting. "Everything's come together beautifully. If he doesn't notice, he's blind, and you should go with the man who does notice."

To her, it made perfect sense. Susan was preparing for a transitional, liminal event. If Stephen didn't rise to the occasion, someone else would.

Camilla's words might have been meant to comfort, but if it wasn't for Susan's utter self-control, she would have gaped. Though the thought--fear--that Stephen wouldn't notice had occurred to her, the idea that someone else might had not. Even if it had, there was just...no. Susan didn't operate like that. If she couldn't have Stephen, she wasn't about to go with anyone else. And that didn't just mean after the wedding; as she'd realized (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1312663.html?thread=66771607#t66771607) while out drowning her sorrows (and a few brain cells) with Shaun, this was not simple attraction. She knew that she didn't do anything by half-measures; 'if not Stephen, then no one' was a terribly accurate statement in so many more ways than one.

But she couldn't tell Camilla that. Camilla's mind operated in a whole different sphere, as far as these things were concerned, and Susan had a feeling Camilla would no more understand Susan's point of view than Susan understood hers. "I hope he's not blind," was all she could say in response to that. "I...this is going to sound like a completely ridiculous question, but...how will I know when? To, ah, initiate anything?" Was there some kind of instinct? People did this sort of thing all the time, so it couldn't be that difficult, but that thought wasn't as reassuring as it ought to be.

Camilla, who had picked up her fork again, thought as she chewed a bite of lamb. It was very good lamb. After another sip of water, she said, finally: "You'll be alone, of course, and he'll look at you a certain way. It'll be different -- you'll know it, when you see it."

Susan was about to protest, to say she had no idea how she was supposed to tell, when something from Stephen's and her shooting practice (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1312663.html?thread=66771607#t66771607) came back to her--Stephen had looked at her very strangely then, and she hadn't known what it meant. She had a feeling she did now, especially after the diary...thing (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1317513.html?thread=67043465#t67043465). She'd know that look again anywhere, and that gave her something to go by; if he looked at her that way again, she'd know.

"I think I know what you mean," she said slowly, neatly cutting her own lamb--she hadn't had food like this since before her parents had died. "About the look. That...makes it all easier." The fact that he'd given her it in the first place was...relieving.

"Does it really?" Camilla found this a happy surprise. "Good. It's a bit difficult for me to generalise, here. I haven't had that many lovers, only two." Well, or during the bacchanal -- "Maybe three, we can't really say for certain."

Susan nearly choked on her lamb. "You...can't say for certain?" She considered this; the 'we' hadn't escaped her, either, and it made her wonder very much under what circumstances this had come about.

"...Life certainly sounds more interesting where you're from," she said. Part of her was almost jealous--to have been so uninhibited that you honestly couldn't remember.

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