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Star paces just outside of the fitting room door, arms crossed impatiently. She’s already in full courtly dress, complete with her hair twisted up in curly boudoirs and a golden tiara fitted front-and-center atop her head. Her gown kicks up at her feet as she stomps for a second and calls out, “Marco, what is taking you so long?”
From behind the door, she hears a muffled, “This – ugh – suit isn’t fitting my neck,” followed by the rustling of fabric.
“That is kinda the point!” The princess supplies, bracing her hands on her corset. Honestly, she didn’t have the time to entertain her best friend’s complaints. They have a Song Day to get to – and at the rate they’re going, they’ll be stuck pushing dirt on the royal mile. Ugh. Star doesn’t even wanna think about what her mom would say if she was late to her own ceremony.
Which is why she cannot spend another precious minute standing in the back of a deserted costume store. Star brushes a loose strand of blonde hair out of her face and treads over to the bench next to the fitting rooms. She (carefully) sits down, hunching her back and propping her chin on her hand. Another bored, bothered groan leaves her mouth.
The music from the tiny overhead speakers is quite garbled, but Star recognizes the genre. Mr. and Mrs. Diaz have the mini-radio on their kitchen counter tuned to this station whenever they’re making dinner, gentle songs and smells of spices drifting their way through the house and up to the princess’s room.
Earth music is different. Different from anything on Mewni. They don’t use eight-stringed dolphin banjos or spiderhorns – they’ve got stuff like drums, bass, and sax (that last one a personal favorite of Star’s). They compose rhythms that are so intrinsically separate from anything she’s ever heard before, yet, for some unexplained reason.. are sorta familiar?
She closes her eyes, just for a second, and takes in a breath. She listens to the music, and tries to take her mind off of her impending lateness. And off of everything else that’s been happening as of recently. It isn’t just these past few days and the songwriting fiasco. It’s these past few weeks, when the guilt of losing The Book was and still is eating her alive. Even if she attempts to find practical solutions, nothing replaces Glossaryck.
Her living situation on Earth provides an ample opportunity to escape her mom’s judgment – which is always emergent whenever she’s in her home dimension – more than ever now that Star has lost a family heirloom and severely damaged another. This guilt may or may not have wormed itself into the final product of her princess ballad, and Star can only hope her mom sets aside her previous misgivings when watching the upcoming performance.
Plus, the people of Mewni deserve to know the truth. They need to see Star – every side of her – not just the perfect, the fearless, or the unstoppable. The dishonest. The irresponsible. The disastrous. She believes, wholly, in integrity. She just.. has to hope everybody else does the same.
A lock shifts, and a door swings open in front of her. Star opens her eyes, and lifts her head.
Marco steps out of the fitting room’s enclosure, a tailored white suit wrapping his torso. He lowers his arms, shoulder tassels jingling at the motion, and slides his hands into his pockets. He stops in front of the princess, and awkwardly offers her a grin. “So. How do I look?”
Maybe, on any other day.. that’d be an easy question to answer. Star’s bottom lip drops slightly as she gazes at him. Between his face, and his suit. Between manicured dark brown curls, and a half-hearted smile, and a neatly folded, buttoned-up collar. Then her eyes, wide enough as they are, catch his stare.
You look like a prince.
“You look great,” Star utters, a little out of breath.
Her eyes blink, and she forces herself to look away. She can fluster over him all she wants – she has been, which hasn’t really been the best for her mental health – but, regardless, not while they’ve got places to be.
She stands up and quickly walks over to Marco, grabbing his hand with one of hers and pulling him forward. “We gotta go now,” she rushes, to her friend’s skepticism. He replies with a small “Okay,” and the two proceed to book it out of the store together – with the princess hoping they can catch their ride in time.