The tailors made quick work of Tempest, tape measures wrapping around a new limb every few seconds and pencils scrabbling away at sketchpads to determine the absolute perfect dimensions for the gown and the occasion it was symbolic of. Lace here, satin there, silk draped around this portion--the tailors were hasty, to put it bluntly, but still carried an air of elegance and precision. Luckily for her, as the Crown Princess Tempest had specifically instructed at the beginning of her mock reign that she would not have any male tailors to gaze upon her pure form, so only female voices could be heard around her. Panicked, commanding female voices. Of course she didn't discriminate whatsoever, but it was simply because the thought of being constantly gazed upon and studied by men made her understandably uncomfortable.