I growl in annoyance as I confirm that, as expected, the masculine room is stuck. "Why even have this room?" I ask aloud "It's just a door painted on a wall isn't it? Illusion of choice made manifest to underscore the fundamental compulsory... ugh."
Upon unfolding the clothing and finding the name tag I look up to the ceiling and announce "You're a hack, you know that?" dropping the nametags- both of them- to the floor. I put the thing on. It's... far from ideal, but it fits at least, and keeps the distracting jiggling at bay. I forgo the accessories like gloves and stockings, I mean they don't... unless.
I know some outfits are necessary to certain forms of ritual magic- aiding in the imploring higher powers and channeling magics for some purpose... but then of course that's the problem! Minor epiphany as I figure out just why I'm so petulant. I'm a /Wizard/. I bend the forces of nature to my will through superior understanding. If I'd wanted power by begging it from some higher power, I'd have been a cleric, or perhaps a warlock. That's what this is- what the Lady wants me to do. She offers me power, but not power of my own, and not understanding. She wants me to... I don't know, but she wants me as her agent, one way or another, or I think I'd have been offered some other outfit to wear. The knowledge makes my insides burn. I stalk back to the front to talk to Latisha "So what exactly is it she wants from me, and what do I get for giving it? I don't foresee her tormenting me less simply because I've decided to stop complaining about it, so what?"
