Post by Julie Deveroix (D) on Jan 14, 2008 1:55:34 GMT -5
I stood in front of the mirror, examining myself. What a difference. Last time I'd gone to court, it was in virginal white. This time, I was wearing black, and the daring shoulder adornments that I did, indeed, like very much. The first dress I'd picked on my own. I was proud of myself. It was black. Worthy of the Shahrizai. Yet at my neck, it was an ornate, stylized Yeshuite khai.
I'd decided not to ask any of the men in my life to escort me to the Fete. I'd decided to dance with anyone who asked. I'd decided, also, that I'd not let them all pass go. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 Ducats. If they tried, they'd be hard pressed. I was wearing full tights under the skirt, and it wasn't by defiance this time. It was an additional obstacle. Let's see now who would be worthy of tearing all that fabric up.
I was in need of simplicity in my life, and so I was going to Court for a million good reasons, one of them, that I wanted a chance to see prospective employers once my training was completed. Another, that perhaps I'd see them. The ominous, mysterious them. I tried not to think on it - it made my mind reel a little.
Last but not least, I wanted to have fun. Good, free, lighthearted fun. If I'd had money, I would have contracted Bayard, but I didn't, not so soon after my visit at Balm. So I would go, and see what encounters I made.
A black dress. I smiled wryly at the reflection in the mirror of the redhead whose hair was placed neatly in ordered copper locks. I turned around, looking over my shoulder at my reflection. Against my left shoulder blade, Darien's fiery wind was contrasting with the white of my skin, and the darkness of the fabric.
Otherwise, my skin was unmarked, all healed. Thanks to my lover's skill and my time at Balm, I was sporting impeccable skin. I turned to face myself again, and curtsied. It wasn't as fluid as an adept's, but it was much better than months ago, at the coronation.
Seems innocence isn't so immortal, now, doesn't it?
I'd decided not to ask any of the men in my life to escort me to the Fete. I'd decided to dance with anyone who asked. I'd decided, also, that I'd not let them all pass go. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 Ducats. If they tried, they'd be hard pressed. I was wearing full tights under the skirt, and it wasn't by defiance this time. It was an additional obstacle. Let's see now who would be worthy of tearing all that fabric up.
I was in need of simplicity in my life, and so I was going to Court for a million good reasons, one of them, that I wanted a chance to see prospective employers once my training was completed. Another, that perhaps I'd see them. The ominous, mysterious them. I tried not to think on it - it made my mind reel a little.
Last but not least, I wanted to have fun. Good, free, lighthearted fun. If I'd had money, I would have contracted Bayard, but I didn't, not so soon after my visit at Balm. So I would go, and see what encounters I made.
A black dress. I smiled wryly at the reflection in the mirror of the redhead whose hair was placed neatly in ordered copper locks. I turned around, looking over my shoulder at my reflection. Against my left shoulder blade, Darien's fiery wind was contrasting with the white of my skin, and the darkness of the fabric.
Otherwise, my skin was unmarked, all healed. Thanks to my lover's skill and my time at Balm, I was sporting impeccable skin. I turned to face myself again, and curtsied. It wasn't as fluid as an adept's, but it was much better than months ago, at the coronation.
Seems innocence isn't so immortal, now, doesn't it?