Armadillo girl

Cordova Pride 
outfit plus black pants

@Dax Attwood

Rocky was home tonight. He was super well behaved, really, but even so she thought it would be unfair to take him around all this noise and food he couldn't eat and people and kids and stuff. Plus she'd be able to explore inside all the kiosks and attractions and all that without worrying she might be scaring people or triggering allergies or something.

Thoughtful! That's what she was.

And right now, she was thoughtfully approaching some costume vendors, eyes darting at all the super flashy colors and patterns in the spirit of Pride.

Personally, she'd grown up disapproving of other orientations... until her best friend back home came out as gay. Now she wasn't, like, all vocally gung ho about it. But she understood him, and wanted to show her support, even if said best friend wasn't actually here. But that's what snaps were for!

"Ooohhh my gosh Luis look at this mermaid tail!" she squealed to her phone as she zoomed all over said actual swimmable mermaid tail, hanging just outside of the stall. She was so delighted, and also wondered if she could try it? Snap sent, she put her phone away and poked at it kind of repeatedly, watching it catch the light.

She'd... totally move on soon. Just gotta look for the price tag on this thing and convince herself to get a job before wasting...

"Two hundred and fifteen dollars."

Yeah, there went that dream, unemployed girl. Move along.


The queer community wasn't really her thing—there was an expectation of niceness that Dax couldn't commit to, except among the militant lesbians, who were universally terrible—but like hell she was going to miss out on the annual obligatory expression of her sexuality and the opportunity to rail against an otherwise heteronormative and downright fucking bigoted culture. This was the one time of the year she could find dozens of people to bitch about queer and gender politics with, and Dax liked nothing more than bitching about queer and gender politics.

So she was in a good mood, even as she grit her teeth and reminded herself she didn't need to breathe, and the woman squealing over mermaid tails didn't annoy her quite as much as she normally would. It was almost endearing, even. But only almost.

Dax was eyeing the comic book-themed hats just adjacent to her, and she snorted an amused breath when the woman stated the price of one of those dumb mermaid tails to herself. "There's a reason mermaids are mythical, I suppose," she said, glancing aside at the woman with a small, impish smile. Because it was too goddamn expensive to be a mermaid.

She glanced at the woman next to her and gave a laugh. Why dread how many months of rent you had left (1.5 which was really just 1 but no one was asking) when you could just enjoy the fun!!

"Makes sense. On the other hand, I... could just not shave a week and totally pass for a werewolf for free," she joked back, meeting the taller woman's eyes, and then immediately wondered if that was too many words for a joke or not.

Yeesh. Don't be so self-conscious yet, Yesenia. "If you could be anything, what would you be? On the condition that you have to be rainbow-colored."

An excellent question. Being a vampire sucked. Being a were-alligator sounded equally awful, if Reina's experience was anything to go by.

Dax hummed a short note as she devoted more thought to the question that she probably should have, but the only options that kept floating into her head were "vampire" and "ghost whisperer" in an intrusive urge to self-sabotage. Let's maybe not do that.

"A necromancer," she answered instead, baring her teeth in a grin. "Does that count? Just give me an army of skeletons to mow the lawn and do my household chores. And I could be into the rainbow goth aesthetic." Yeah, that'd be significantly cooler than this ghost whispering business. "You?"

Speaking required breathing, which meant smelling, and her teeth ached in the supernatural equivalent to Pavlov's dogs. Behind lips momentarily pressed into a stiff line, she prodded one canine with the tip of her tongue. She met only the blunt edges of her teeth, and her jaw relaxed with the reassurance that she was keeping her shit together and not about to devolve into a demonic frenzy.

For an instant, she swore she smelled Cris, a thought that was both weird just by itself and in its immediacy. Except not Cris. Cris's blood, that subtle scent of the uncanny.

Wait. Had she meant anything as in the monster variety (a natural segue from mermaids and werewolves) or just like. The mundane? Whoops too late.

A neck romancer...? Oh, nope. Something about skeletons?? Yesenia smiled back, though it was slightly edged with the feeling of being a little lost. What just happened?

"Um," she pondered, totally off her game now. How do you follow up after something you don't know at all? What was a neck-romancer? How did skeletons relate? 911?

"Maybe like, a fairy? The tiny Fantasia ones."

That wasn't obscure and stuff. But it was a play on reality because she was short? But she'd have wings.

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