[AoS] History Lives (Queen Maxine)

Allison had always been a bit ambivalent toward clothing. Which was good, as she hadn’t really had any say in what she wore for many years; she wore what her parents thought would make the best impression, which often meant uncomfortable, and always meant perfect condition. No worn spots, no stains, no tears, nothing that could indicate the clothes had ever before touched a human being. When she’d finally gotten the right to choose her own pajamas, she’d defiantly chosen the most worn-looking things she could find, and worn the outfit every night for the next four years. Softest clothes she’d ever had, but definitely the ugliest, too, by the time she finally gave up on them. She’d eventually moved to New York, and finally been able to choose everything she wore--at least, most of the time--and delighted in the options, even if her choices still all but matched what her parents would have dictated.

The destruction days had changed that. Clothing suddenly stopped mattering for impressions; it was for protection and protection only, and everyone knew it. Allison could wear whatever she felt like, and while the environment might kill her for it, no human would care.

…Well. Most of the humans were dead, anyway, but the surviving ones didn’t care either.

Eventually Allison began associating attractive clothing with the past, though, and purely practical clothing with the post-destruction world, though, and began missing it. Sure, the past had had plenty of problems, and the present had its benefits (mainly, not having to worry about her appearance at all times), but the past had been fun, too. And easier, in most ways. So she began figuring out subtle ways to adjust her post-destruction clothes to be just a bit nicer, mainly through the addition of loose bits of fabric. Pants and a sleeveless shirt (or vest, perhaps; who knew) were accented with what technically were just pieces of fabric, wrapped and tied to make a knee-length skirt and sleeves that might have imitated a bell shape over her hands, and then the entire mess was filled with brightly colored inks, which probably would have created much too bright a tie dye effect if they weren’t all dulled by dust.

Allison’s attempts weren’t necessarily successful, but she was at least noticeable. And the attempts gave her some kind of connection to the memories she had of the pre-destruction world, helped to reassure her that the entire thing wasn’t just her imagination, and it really had existed. Why that mattered was a question she hadn’t yet bothered to ask herself.

Still, though, Allison’s quest to keep something from history at least reassured her, and so she’d spent several days debating with herself before finally going in search of Queen Maxine. She wasn’t sure her idea was something the Queen would entirely approve of, or that Aura would if Queen Maxine did, but it was the closest she could get to what she wanted. And asking never hurt, anyway.

Well. As long as the asking didn’t involve males, or allowing said males into the fortress. That was not to be asked about.

Queen Maxine was in the kitchen, drinking what was probably coffee. Allison didn’t really bother to keep track of what there was to drink; coffee in particular she’d avoided when possible since shortly after the destruction days. It just wasn’t able to compare.

Allison waited a moment, looking over the room. The table was clean, relatively, as were bowls and cups and counters. Princess Rex… had been hunting again, and was on the ceiling, well out of Allison’s reach, with her most recent kill. Which Princess Rex was… playing with, it looked like; at least she was jerking it around oddly. Allison really wasn’t sure how paperclip princesses played. The nail was still glinting from Queen Maxine’s boot, and Allison still wasn’t quite sure that queens were really supposed to be wearing boots, with or without nails, but she was sure they were supposed to do what they decided they wanted to do. And, anyway, Queen Maxine was smart; Allison was willing to trust that she knew what she was doing.

And Allison was stalling. “Queen? Are you busy?”

Stupid question. But an easy one.