Mittens has had nightmares like this, you know. She has to dance with the most elegant partner ever but there are literally hundreds of outfits all begging to be warn and she doesn't know what to do she doesn't know what to do she doesn't [i]know[/i] what to [i]do![/i] And, oh yeah, she's in her underwear.

Stars and... whiskers? Euphie reeeeeaaaally likes playing dress up. 

Violet bravely shapes itself into a pair of scissors and snips threateningly at a slinky evening gown, but it's overmatched. This was Mitten's cleverest light, but also by far her weakest. Without any of the others to guide it, it'd never make much of a weapon more deadly than a pocket knife. And sure, that's plenty good enough for her current predicament, but only if she could move it with the grace and speed of Orange or... eep!

Mittens reaches desperately for her beautiful suit. If she could just... get it! She knows everything would work out ok. Somehow. Just, come on! A little further! But every spin and tiny hop and desperate reach is matched by the mannequin as it bobs about in the sea of clothing and the shifting of the floors. Mittens is very good at dancing, and almost as good at navigating quicksand, but even so it's hard not to attract hangers-on, and soon she's got several extra pounds of scarves and socks and one especially aggressive kimono obi wrapped around various bits of her that are making it much harder to keep going. Still, she gets her hands around her partner. She wraps her arms around the suit and hugs it tight against her chest. And she rises above the tide of fashions with a triumphant squeak and a whoop!

She might even have made it through this. If it hadn't been for her tail. Wait, her what? No no no, she's not [i]actually[/i] Askaian, this is all dress up and headgames, she doesn't have a--

"Eeeeeek!"

There's a belt! A belt yanking on her soft lavender tail! It's sending! The most! Awful! Jolt! All the way! Up her spine!! Eep eep eep eep! All the muscles in her body go taught all at once, and then the floor violently lurches under her and becomes a wall, and I don't know if you know this, but Mittens can't stand on walls. That's not her brand of magic. So with a startled mew and a squeak, she goes tumbling into a pile of rejected outfits and slides under the shifting fabrics inch by silly inch. 

The socks are the first things to get her. Because [i]of course[/i] they are. Tight little nylons in cutesy calico patterns yank all the way up to her knees, and in a flash of one of the room's many many mirrors, Mittens has just enough time to notice the (really?) "toe bean" patterns on the bottoms of her feet. Eupheria is [i]really[/i] rubbing it in. A gorgeous satin blouse pins her arms behind her, and a series of belts and straps lash her hands to her feet. An Illuminan gown wraps its silks around and around and around and around her tummy in all seven of the colors most cherished by her kingdom. A pair of rough spun Felorian trousers tackle her waist and if the scratchy feeling on her bare skin wasn't bad enough they also pin her tail against her body and now all it wants to do is twitch and thrash in annoyance and it [i]can't[/i] so she's just so [i]aware[/i] of it and it's the. Most. Unpleasant. Sensation.

Meanwhile, there's a wool sweater hugging her chest and a bridal veil sitting haphazardly on her head and a shoe poking her somewhere she'd really rather not have a shoe poking her, while the sheerest of lingerie joins all those belts and trusses her up so tightly it's hard to do more right now than wiggle. 

The saddest part of all is that she couldn't quite hold onto her suit, and she has to watch it lie there next to her. She could swear it feels sorry for her, as surely as she knows the rest of the clothes in here are jealous that she didn't choose them. They sink beneath the sands of fashion, these partners in crime. Mittens can hardly start thinking about how this could get any worse right now before she feels a tickling sensation crawling up her shoulder, around her chin and then... oh joy of joys, her friend is back.

"...Thnnnk thhoooo mmmgch, ssnnkrrrhheef."

[That's a [b]6[/b] on Overcome, chief]