Mistborn #03 The Hero of Ages

paused as the door to his cabin opened. He turned, putting on his best consoling smile, then froze.
    Vin stood in the doorway wearing a stunning black gown with silver trim, cut after a modern fashion. Somehow, it managed to look sleek despite the bell-shaped skirt, which fanned out with petticoats. Her pure black hair, which she often wore pulled back in a tail, was down, and it now reached to her collarbone, neatly trimmed and curling just slightly. The only jewelry she wore was her simple earring, the one she'd gotten from her mother when she was just a child.
    He always thought she was beautiful. And yet . . . how long had it been since he'd seen her in a gown, with her hair and makeup done? He tried to say something, give her a compliment, but his voice just kind of trailed off.
    She walked over on light feet, kissing him briefly. "I'll take that as an indication that I managed to put this thing on right. I'd forgotten what a pain gowns could be. And the makeup! Honestly, Elend, you're never allowed to complain about those suits of yours again."
    Beside them, Ham was chuckling. Vin turned. "What?"
    "Ah, Vin," Ham said, leaning back and folding his muscular arms, "when did you go and grow up on me? It seems like just last week you were scrambling about, hiding in corners, wearing the haircut of a boy and the attitude of a mouse."
    Vin smiled fondly. "Do you remember when we first met? You thought I was a twixt."
    Ham nodded. "Breeze nearly fainted dead away when he found we'd been talking with a Mistborn all that time! Honestly, Vin. Sometimes I can't believe that you were that same frightened girl Kelsier brought into the crew."
    "It has been five years, Ham. I'm twenty-one now."
    "I know," Ham said, sighing. "You're like my own children, adults before I had time to know them as kids. In fact, I probably know you and El better than I know any of them . . ."
    "You'll get back to them, Ham," Vin said, reaching over and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Once this is all over."
    "Oh, I know that," he said, smiling, ever the optimist. "But, you can never have back what you've missed. I hope all this turns out to be worth it."
    Elend shook his head, finally finding his voice. "I have only one thing to say. If that dress is what the cooking girls are wearing, I'm paying them far too much."
    Vin laughed.
    "Seriously, Vin," Elend said. "The army's tailors are good, but there's no way that dress came from materials we had in camp. Where did you get it?"
    "It's a mystery," Vin said, narrowing her eyes and smiling. "We Mistborn are incredibly mysterious."
    Elend paused. "Um . . . I'm Mistborn too, Vin. That doesn't make any sense."
    "We Mistborn need not make sense," Vin said. "It's beneath us. Come on—the sun's already down. We need to get moving."
    "Have fun dancing with our enemies," Ham said as Vin hopped from the boat, then Pushed herself up through the mists. Elend waved farewell, Pushing himself into the air as well. As he shot away, his tin-enhanced ears heard Ham's voice talking to Cett.
    "So . . . you can't go anywhere unless someone carries you, right?" the Thug asked.
    Cett grunted.
    "Well then," Ham said, sounding very pleased. "I've got quite a number of philosophical puzzles you might enjoy. . . ."
    Allomantic jumping was not easy when one was wearing a ball gown. Every time Vin started to descend, the bottom of the dress flared up around her, ruffling and flapping like a flock of startled birds.
    Vin wasn't particularly worried about showing off what was under the dress. Not only was it too dark for most people to see, but she wore leggings beneath the petticoats. Unfortunately, flapping dresses—and the drag they created in the air—made steering a jump much more difficult. They also made a lot of noise. She wondered what the guards thought as she passed over the rocky shelves that were the natural city walls. To her ear, she sounded like a dozen waving flags, beating against themselves in the middle of a windstorm.
    She finally slowed, aiming for a rooftop that had been cleared of ash. She hit lightly, bouncing up and spinning, dress flaring, before landing and waiting for Elend. He followed, landing less smoothly with a hard thump and a grunt. It wasn't that he was bad at Pushing and Pulling—he just hadn't had as much practice as Vin. She'd probably been much like him during her first years as an Allomancer.
    Well . . . maybe not like him, she thought fondly as Elend dusted himself off. But, I'm sure