Elsa — Costume for One Night (370 photos) (Patreon)

Elsa had never worn anything this short on purpose.

The plaid skirt barely covered what it needed to. The white cropped top left her midriff bare and the ice-patterned fabric thin enough that the mountain air went straight through it. The stockings stayed high, lace sitting against skin she usually kept covered. She had put the whole thing on for the party and then never taken it off. Once the house went quiet she stepped outside anyway, the costume still on, and let the cooler air find every place the fabric didn’t.

Most nights she still kept the careful distance. Tonight the costume made that harder. She sat on the low wall overlooking the valley with one leg bent and the other stretched out, the skirt riding high enough that the breeze kept lifting the hem. She didn’t fix it. One hand rested on her thigh above the lace. The other braced behind her. She glanced back over her shoulder when her braid shifted, mouth curved, eyes half-lidded against the last of the light.

Footsteps came up the path. She didn’t turn right away.

“You’re still in that,” he said.

Elsa looked back at him then. “I haven’t decided I want to change.”

He stopped a few feet away. The short skirt, the cropped top, the bare strip of skin between them—none of it was covered. She shifted so the hem lifted a little more and let her fingers press lightly against her thigh. The costume wasn’t magic. The overlook wasn’t a binding. She just stayed where she was, the cool air sliding under the skirt and across her midriff, and didn’t move to cover either. The cold would come back later. For now the short fabric, the open air, and the slow heat under her own hand were reason enough to stay exactly as she was.

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