I sat by the fire, chewing on the last piece of roasted buffalo, staring at the half-naked goddess in front of me.
Ashley divine, radiant, and soaking wet was crouched on the other side of the fire, wrapped in a mess of leaves and half-torn celestial fabric. Her long white hair stuck to her back. Her bare legs shivered slightly in the jungle breeze, and the vine-rope holding her makeshift robe together looked like it was losing the battle against gravity.
My nose started to twitch again.
"I'm warning you," I said, grabbing a strip of leather and cloth. "If you keep walking around like that, I'm going to die from blood loss."
"What are you talking about?" she snapped.
"I'm saying I've had three nosebleeds in two hours. That's dangerous. You're a goddess. At least try to dress the part."
"I had a robe!" she snapped. "You saw what happened! It got caught on a branch and tore in half!"
"And now you're flashing divine thigh like it's a holy relic tour," I muttered.
Her cheeks turned red.
"You! You're the one who stared at me!"
"I didn't stare." I held up a finger. "I observed. For health reasons. I was making sure your skin wasn't being eaten by jungle bugs."
She glared.
I stood up, holding a bundle of carefully stitched leather and fabric. "That's it. Enough complaining. Here."
She blinked. "What's that?"
"Your stockings."
"You made me stockings?"
"I made them out of your torn divine robe. Black ones, just like you asked."
Her eyes widened. "You butchered my divine robe?!"
"Don't be dramatic. It was half-shredded already. I repurposed it into something useful. Now put them on."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Put. Them. On. Before I pass out from looking at your holy knees for another minute."
"You dare command a goddess"
"Yes, I do." I crossed my arms. "Because this is survival. You glowing around in nothing but rags is not helping anyone. Either put on the stockings or start explaining to the trees why you're half-naked."
She stared at me like she wanted to smite me.
I stared back like I had nothing to lose but more blood.
Finally, she huffed and snatched the stockings from my hands. "Turn around."
I turned.
"No peeking!"
"I'm trying to stay alive, not get turned to stone."
There was some rustling behind me. Fabric sliding. A soft gasp. A hiss of discomfort.
"These are tight!" she grumbled.
"They're custom fit," I said over my shoulder. "You're welcome."
A moment later, she spoke, her voice low and slightly unsure.
"Are they on right?"
I turned around.
And I blinked.
The stockings were perfect. Smooth. Seamless. Hugging her legs from toe to thigh like they'd been stitched by the gods themselves. The black shimmered slightly under the firelight, giving off a dark divine glow.
For a second, I couldn't speak.
Then I felt a warm trickle from my nose.
"See?!" I shouted, pointing to my face. "This is exactly why you needed to wear something!"
Her eyes widened. "You're bleeding again!"
"No thanks to you and your legs of divine destruction!"
She looked down at herself and then awkwardly tugged at the top of one stocking. "They are kinda nice, though."
"Told you," I said, wiping my nose. "Now. Next step."
"What now?"
I walked over to her, kneeling beside the fire and picking up the remaining piece of her robe.
"You're going to enchant this," I said.
"To do what?"
"Turn it black."
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because black matches the stockings. Duh. You want to walk around looking like a celestial clown?"
"I. she started, but paused. "Fine. Give it here."
She held out her hands, muttering something ancient. The fabric in my hands glowed then shimmered. The white bled into pitch black like ink soaking through parchment.
A second later, I held up a transformed divine robe: silky, dark, almost ominously elegant.
Ashley looked stunned. "That actually looks good."
"I know," I said. "Now give me twenty minutes. I'll make you something you can wear properly."
Twenty-five minutes later, she stood by the river wearing a short, stylish black dress that shimmered with divine threads and had a small slit on the side. It was stitched crudely, yes, but it fit.
And with the black stockings?
She looked like a battle-ready goddess of night.
She twisted her leg slowly, inspecting herself. "This doesn't feel like something a mortal should've made."
"Well," I said, leaning against a tree, "maybe I'm not just a mortal."
She turned to me, one brow raised. "Don't push it, nosebleed boy."
"I have no regrets."
She smiled faintly.
Then stepped closer.
I stiffened.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For the clothes. And for treating me like I'm more than just a goddess."
"You're welcome," I said, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands.
Then she ruined the moment by adding, "But next time you touch my robe without asking, I'll smite you into a puddle."
"There it is," I muttered.
She walked away confidently, her stockings gleaming under the moonlight.
And me?
I watched her go, thinking only one thing:
Worth it.