I’m sitting on the floor of my new hut (because I still don’t have a single chair) staring at the bare stone walls like they personally insulted me.
The place is empty. Completely, embarrassingly empty. Just me, a sad little bench I dragged in, and four walls that keep reminding me I have no idea what I’m doing with any of this.
And of course my brain decided this was the perfect time to spiral about transmog.
I’ve been staring at my wardrobe for the last twenty minutes like a lunatic. The Absolution set still looks good on paper, (elegance that screams “I’ve been doing this since the Burning Crusade”), but now I’m second-guessing everything. The hood feels too low. The shoulders don’t quite sit right. Maybe too flashy for someone who still dies in the first thirty seconds of half her matches.
Then, just to make my night complete, I queued into a random BG and ran straight into another Discipline priest wearing the exact same Absolution ensemble. Down to the hood tilt. Down to the way the trim caught the light. I actually flinched when I saw her. Mortified doesn’t even cover it. I spent the entire match trying to hide behind my own bubbles so she wouldn’t notice we were basically twins.
She looked… put-together. Confident. Like she had her life (and her transmog) figured out.
I looked like a priest who just bought a house and immediately regretted every life choice that led her to own four bare walls and zero curtains.
So I did the only logical thing.
I stormed back to my plot, yanked off the Absolution set, and changed into my old Black Mageweave outfit. The one that’s basically a corseted leotard with thigh-highs and not much else. The second the fabric settled on my skin I felt it. Pissed off, sexy, and a little slutty all at the same time. Like I was daring the empty hut to judge me.
I stood there in the middle of my bare floor, hands on my hips, staring at my reflection in a shard of polished obsidian I’m using as a mirror. The set still fits like a glove. It’s ridiculous. It’s me. And right now it feels like the only thing I have control over.
My transmog wishlist is never going to end. There’s the full Thalassian Competitor set I’m slowly piecing together, the Galactic Gladiator silk pieces I keep eyeing, the old Vestments of Faith I keep telling myself I’ll finish “one day,” and about seventeen other half-formed ideas that all require mats I can’t afford and time I don’t have.
Meanwhile my actual house looks like a storage shed that lost a fight with a fel reaver.
I should be focusing on gear. Or gold. Or literally anything useful.
Instead I’m standing here in something that barely qualifies as clothing, feeling simultaneously empowered and like a complete disaster.
At least the dock outside is starting to look nice.
…Right?
~Sahsha
(Tired Disc Priest, Professional Babysitter of the Sin’dorei, Reluctant Returnee… and Currently Mortified by Her Own Mirror Image)