Post by Juliette L'Envers de Montegue on Jun 27, 2006 15:26:59 GMT -5
I looked at the finished dress in the mirror, and my instinctive reaction was to gulp. I never wore anything like this. Not… like this…
It fit me like a dream, a dream an adolescent boy might have, right before his imagination stripped me down. I tried to eye myself impartially, though I couldn’t help but feel my cheeks warm.
It was made out of a crimson cloud over a darker sheath of silk. The fabric gathered below my bust to sweep down to the floor. Above that was intricate lace, the neckline lower than anything I had ever worn, though just within the borders of propriety. Thin straps held the dress on my shoulders. And then I turned around.
Had I been an adept, most of my marque would have been bared for all to see. Instead I inspected my back, pleased, very pleased with what I saw. Black gloves covered my arms, from fingertips to elbows, and a masque covered the top half of my face. It was a work of crimson and black, sweeping away from my eyes. I was put in mind of a cat. Or a fox. Or perhaps merely a seductress.
Acrasia, the seductress of knights and lords. Who bound her lovers in chains of lust, and robbed them of rational thought. Who laughed at another’s fumbling charm, but with a laugh that enticed and mesmerized them, even as they felt their cheeks burn with embarrassment. She was my antithesis. And I planned to act the role.
And no one would recognize me. I don’t have the L’Envers eyes, or the Montegue nose. No one knew me at Court. I doubted even Elliot or Evie would see me for who I was. But to them, I am merely their bookish, boring younger cousin who never said two words to them. Actually, come to think of it, the only danger came from Christien and his twin…
It fit me like a dream, a dream an adolescent boy might have, right before his imagination stripped me down. I tried to eye myself impartially, though I couldn’t help but feel my cheeks warm.
It was made out of a crimson cloud over a darker sheath of silk. The fabric gathered below my bust to sweep down to the floor. Above that was intricate lace, the neckline lower than anything I had ever worn, though just within the borders of propriety. Thin straps held the dress on my shoulders. And then I turned around.
Had I been an adept, most of my marque would have been bared for all to see. Instead I inspected my back, pleased, very pleased with what I saw. Black gloves covered my arms, from fingertips to elbows, and a masque covered the top half of my face. It was a work of crimson and black, sweeping away from my eyes. I was put in mind of a cat. Or a fox. Or perhaps merely a seductress.
Acrasia, the seductress of knights and lords. Who bound her lovers in chains of lust, and robbed them of rational thought. Who laughed at another’s fumbling charm, but with a laugh that enticed and mesmerized them, even as they felt their cheeks burn with embarrassment. She was my antithesis. And I planned to act the role.
And no one would recognize me. I don’t have the L’Envers eyes, or the Montegue nose. No one knew me at Court. I doubted even Elliot or Evie would see me for who I was. But to them, I am merely their bookish, boring younger cousin who never said two words to them. Actually, come to think of it, the only danger came from Christien and his twin…