We walked out to be greeted by the warm spring air. After walking for about fifteen minutes, Lilly, Kay, Jade, and I all shared an awkward wave goodbye as we were escorted to a styling station where I was greeted by a tall woman with sharp green eyes that seemed to analyze everything about me as she looked me up and down.
"What do you think Charlene?" Asked a stylist beside her. I felt bad I hadn't noticed her, but the woman- Charlene was her name- dominated the room with a fiery attitude that showed itself in the red tips of her sleek blonde ponytail.
"Have her showered. She doesn't need much done, but make sure to pluck her eyebrows a little before returning her to me. Use the purple bottles," she said knowingly. She raised an eyebrow at me, as if she were asking my permission, and I nodded briefly in response.
I entered the showering chambers and used the purple bottles to lather my hair and my body. The hot water ran down my back and wet my hair with an admirable amount of water pressure I envied slightly. However, the water was a lot softer than it was at home.
I returned to Charlene with slightly damp hair and sat bounced onto the overly springy chair, feeling exposed in nothing but a thin cotton bathrobe. Charlene returned and sat down in front of me before scrutinizing my violet eyes.
"Are those natural?" she asked, referring to my eyes. I had gotten this question an awful lot when I was a kid and my parents took me to the few royal events they were invited to.
"Yes," I replied. "I'm Alexandrian."
She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow in skepticism. "I didn't think it was real," she said solemnly, still checking for a faint rim of colored contacts.
My smile wavered as I attempted to sit up straight in front of the intimidating woman in front of me from her flawless dark complexion to her narrow cat eyes. "It wasn't for a long time. It used to just be an imaginary condition, but about three or four generations back someone experimented on my ancestors," I explained, remembering most of the details from being told by my father a few years ago, but he said that my grandmother could tell the story better. I never got to know her.
She nodded a little, still unconvinced. "It's in my medical records on file. I don't have very many of the side effects, however- many just the lack of body hair."
"Ok, eyes aside, what look are you going for? You don't seem like you'd go for sexy. I think maybe something a little more innocent and classic would fit you, but it's your decision," she suggested. She brushed my hair out behind me, pinning the long strands away from my face.
"I prefer something a little more classic," I replied. She nodded and started to open her makeup pouch. I eyed it carefully; I wasn't a fan of loads of makeup. When she walked in with it, I assumed it was just a bag filled with hair equipment because of its size.
She smirked, but not in a way that made her seem smug. It was comforting. "Don't worry, doll. You have perfect features, so you don't need much," she said putting me at ease. I couldn't describe what kinds of powder she was putting on my face and blending even if I tried, nor replicate it. I didn't understand things like that much to my art teacher's, and Mother's, dismay.
"Which dress, Charlene?" asked the same stylist I had shamefully neglected from earlier. Charlene tapped her chin in thought and quirked her mouth to the side, a habit she seemed to be fond of.
"Navy, knee length, lace overskirt, full sleeves, and the long pearl necklace," she replied. The young stylist came out with the same little dress Charlene described that I slipped into easily. I was shocked at how perfectly it fit while her assistant zipped it quickly. I was never very good with zippers; I preferred buttons or hooks.
I turned a full pirouette, waiting for Charlene's look of approval. "Bring the shoes- white, matte, five inches, pumps, quarter inch platform," she commanded. They rushed to give me off white heels that I slipped my feet into. "Now, the last thing," she concluded. She put the pearl necklace around my neck to complete it. "Good luck out there. I put the clothes you came in in a bag that will be in your room when you get to the palace." She looked around at her assistant. "Rachella, send in the next one!"
The assistant stylist. Rachella, ushered me out the door to walk out to the car. There were tons of people surrounding the pathway, and similar to the ones at the airport, and most of them held signs high above their heads. Some called my name, and I uncapped the eyeliner I had previously used to sign some of the posters with my name on it. I took pictures, but I was halfway up the path when something caught my eye.
A head stood tall above the rest of the crowd. I froze for a second, for I had mistaken it to be Francesca. That head had a thick head of blonde curls and was sitting atop her father's shoulders. She was trying to wave me down, and I asked a nearby guard if he could open the gates since she was a few feet back into the crowd.
"I- I don't know if I'm allowed to do that," he said nervously.
"Please?" I begged. He reluctantly opened the gates so that I could maneuver into the crowd to see the little girl. People gave me space as I went, and I finally came to her. Her dad set her down on the ground nervously when he realized I was there to see his daughter, or whom I was assuming to be his daughter.
"Hi, what's your name?" I asked.
"I'm Delia," she said shyly. "You look like a Princess," she giggled. "I wish I could be one."
"Well, I think that you look like one too. Anyone can be a Princess," I said in an attempt to make the surreal events that occurred today seem normal.
"How?" she asked as her ringlets bounced up and down.
I got on my knees so that I could be closer to her. "Well, a Princess doesn't have to be royalty. I'm not. A Princess just has to be kind and fair, and you can never say no to someone who needs your help."
"So I can be a Princess?" She gasped.
"Of course," I said as sincerely as I could manage. I took off the necklace Charlene had given me and looped it around Delia's neck, hoping I wouldn't get in trouble for doing so. I'd gladly pay for the necklace if it were a problem. "Do you promise me you'll be kind and fair?"
"I promise," she said seriously.
"I'll keep you to that promise, Delia."
"Lady Elisa, it's time to go," the guard said. I went back to the pathway and hurried to the car where the rest of the girls were waiting. All 34 of them.
Another girl beside me shot a surprisingly hostile gaze for such a sweet and delicate face. "You're no Queen America. Stop trying to act like the exception," she scoffed.
I wasn't trying to be America. I was being myself, and I would never turn away someone who needed me, whether I was a real princess or not.
YEAH ITS ME EDITING STILL AND IK ALEXANDRIA'S GENESIS ISNT REAL SO QUIT HATING BC I ALREADY WROTE IT
k love you nerds
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Summoned
Fanfiction*UNDER EDITING* Elisa Carams is a two from Hampton, a small, reserved state of Illèa. As a two, she is a part of the highest social elites, has proper etiquette, and knows everything there is to being a lady. She has everything she could dream of ex...
