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"Vampire in a Mini-Skirt" (Magician's Isle) Sierra dug through the large trunk of old clothing, looking for something to replace her torn, bloodstained garments. Rather, she tried to dig through the clothing, but it was not easy nor as quick as she would have liked, since each of her fingers was wrapped in bandages. Those ten little inconveniences were reminders of when she'd gotten it into her head to attack solid stone. She tossed a sparkly orange pair of pants across the room into the pile of clothing dubbed 'stuff so ugly that it should be burned.' How strange that someone who apparently wore the same thing for at least twenty-five centuries would have such a wide variety of hideous clothing. Not that Sierra cared much just now. She needed new clothing before she could be seen in public again, and she wasn't about to go about dressed as some cheap harlet. Even once she found something decent in the trunk, most likely she would have to commission something better to be made. If she was lucky, perhaps there would be something good enough in the 'trunk o' crap' that she wouldn't need to waste time on that. Time is one thing I have not to waste. She uncovered a garment resembling a toga, but not quite. It was close to the length where something stops counting as a skirt, which meant it wouldn't get in the way of fighting, even if it tended to show off her panties if she wasn't careful - if she wore panties, that is. If it drapped well also... Sierra changed then and there into the dress and looked herself over. Nice, but there was something missing before she could really feel like herself again... She returned to digging until she found a dark blue silk cloak that she'd ignored before. Perfect. Now she truly looked like a lady of rank, with the mobility that she'd grown used to. She was ready to meet with an old friend she hadn't seen in a very long time. There was another way to describe her appearance, but she either didn't think of it or ignored it. A vampire in a mini-skirt.
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