Post by Anacrasia Shahrizai on Apr 27, 2008 14:25:01 GMT -5
It was days like this that I wished I were a mere lady. So I could go up to Evangeline and slap that smug smile off her face. So I could drag Gervaise back to the forest and let him make me scream.
I slammed the front door shut behind me, frightening the maid ready to take my jacket. “Is Lord Gabriel home?” I demanded, handing her the garment.
“No your grace,” she managed. Damn it. Not even my cousin home to distract me. I began to stalk toward my pleasure chamber, resolving to work on my wrist movements, when the maid’s voice brought me up short. “Your grace, the-” she flinched at my icy look but stopped short of cowering. “The clothier is in the study for your fitting.”
I didn’t say a word, merely changed my course. “If we could make this quick?” I asked, just managing to be civil as I swept into the room. I owed the clothier that much, he had worked for me several times over the years, and had gotten to know my tastes quite well.
He worked quickly, not letting me look in the glass until the pins were placed as he wished. Finally he let me look, and I nodded in approval. The fabric – done in a red with more orange in it that what I normally wore – was gathered at the breast and secured with a beaded empire waistline. From there it fell straight to the floor, creating a Hellenesse effect.
“With your silver wrap?” He suggested quietly as I studied my reflection. Emboldened by another nod from me, he ventured another question. “Will you be needing a matching outfit for an escort my lady?”
I glared at him and he wilted. “No. Thank you.” My voice was glacial. I wasn’t prepared to speak of Jareth’s abrupt return to his estate. Especially not with the servants.
I slammed the front door shut behind me, frightening the maid ready to take my jacket. “Is Lord Gabriel home?” I demanded, handing her the garment.
“No your grace,” she managed. Damn it. Not even my cousin home to distract me. I began to stalk toward my pleasure chamber, resolving to work on my wrist movements, when the maid’s voice brought me up short. “Your grace, the-” she flinched at my icy look but stopped short of cowering. “The clothier is in the study for your fitting.”
I didn’t say a word, merely changed my course. “If we could make this quick?” I asked, just managing to be civil as I swept into the room. I owed the clothier that much, he had worked for me several times over the years, and had gotten to know my tastes quite well.
He worked quickly, not letting me look in the glass until the pins were placed as he wished. Finally he let me look, and I nodded in approval. The fabric – done in a red with more orange in it that what I normally wore – was gathered at the breast and secured with a beaded empire waistline. From there it fell straight to the floor, creating a Hellenesse effect.
“With your silver wrap?” He suggested quietly as I studied my reflection. Emboldened by another nod from me, he ventured another question. “Will you be needing a matching outfit for an escort my lady?”
I glared at him and he wilted. “No. Thank you.” My voice was glacial. I wasn’t prepared to speak of Jareth’s abrupt return to his estate. Especially not with the servants.