A bow in hair and off we go
Whoever this wardrobe belonged to, they had expensive tastes, lived beyond their means, or had well-off friends they borrowed from. Ranging from long gowns to tight-fitting elegant dresses, any of the pieces would easily fetch a fortune. You hesitate for a moment, not exactly being of a mind to think of such things, then hold a few to your leathery form, trying to visualise what each could do for you.
Picking a more practical and less gaudy black dress, open to the back right to your tail and somewhat flattering of your new-found chest, you awkwardly ease yourself into it, hoping against hope that your guess that the simple underwear you sport under it will be no tell of your unfamiliarity with your new form's needs. Draped in the light, soft fabric, you look around for anything else of value you could use to fit the nearly comedic role you find yourself in.
Tucked safely to the back of the dresser, you find a small wooden box, a few silver jewels sitting in the felt within it. Picking the best after a few missed attempts at judging your size, you place a few extra in your brassiere. No matter where you were, you're dedicated not to end up on its streets without a dime, and these should yield a fair coin should you need it.
Leaving the treasure trove behind, you return to the bridge, taking a deep breath as the last few minutes of open water run out.
Written by Craven on 28 May 2010