Ashes of Lost Love

Drowning in Dresses

         Rhea sighed in exasperation, sitting amongst the flock of feminine chatter. They were in the Queen Mother's solar, and the Queen Mother herself had her beady eyes wide open, ordering the worn out seam mistresses  around. The general tone was lively but rather hushed, not wanting to talk over the Queen Mother herself. Ivette was merrily helping the seam mistresses. Rhea had a rather overweening attitude, when comparing herself to this rabble. She had been stuffed into myriad dresses, before settling for a turquoise blue, that rather flattered her mien and made her average bosom seem bigger, with a special corset. It choked the air out of her, and quite frankly made her fear for her life, wearing that at a feast of all places, but it wasn't like she had an option. She was getting on in years, as Ivette never failed to remind her, and as a young lady of house Carthenn, she had a duty to her house and it went on and on. She had heard that soliloquy so many times that she could repeat it in her sleep. Though she rankled at having the concept of marriage beaten over her head, she knew that there was naught she could to about it. As awry as it seemed to her to parade herself at a feast in hopes of catching a suitor, that was the way things were.

            She had finished getting dressed for the feast, and was now having her hair wrapped in an elegant knot by Ivette. The turquoise blue dress shimmered softly in the daylight, the smooth silk felt wonderful against her skin. However, it was ridiculously tight, and after they had laced her corset, she felt like suffocating. Thankfully, she did not. The dress could be described as low cut, as was the fashion these days, but only suggesting the top curve of her breasts, so as to not provoke scurrilous accusations of immodesty. A heavy, burnished gold chain with intricate design and studded with aquamarine hung around her neck. She looked at her reflection, watching as the seam mistress and Ivette collaborated to dress her up. She was dimly aware of the babbling of the seam mistress about the quality of the silks and how it was custom made in Alynthia and of Ivette placing topaz earrings in her ears and both of them debating whether to give her an aquamarine hairnet, before deciding against it. However, she was mesmerised by her reflection. Was that really her?How odd. She could actually be described as, perhaps not alluring, but lovely in an angular sort of way.

 Rhea tore her gaze away from the mirror. After spending so much time with these mindless ninnies, you're becoming just like them. She coolly observed the dressing choice of the other ladies. Ivette had opted for an emerald green gown, with short, yet practical sleeves. The colour complimented her face and the silver design and jewellery would get her quite some attention from gentlemen at the feast, though her diamond wedding ring sat proudly on her left ring finger. No low cut dress, yet it was tastefully designed. Ivette prided herself on her modesty and fidelity to her husband. 

Rhea's eyes landed briefly on Radella Cornesse. She flushed prettily as the seam mistresses fussed over this special favourite. Her white blonde hair had been done in the latest styles of Aelbourne, and she was wearing a rose pink dress tenderly embroidered that only accentuated her delicate blush and hugged her pleasing figure. Her cornflower blue eyes glinted with radiance and joy. She wore pearls proudly on her neck, and spinels in her ears. She'd shine at the ball, and many would request her hand to dance. And Rhea looked at Harlyn Blackheathe. A timid wisp of a girl, though attractive with her short, shoulder length black hair and fair porcelain skin. She was rather like a delicate doll, excessively meek and would let anyone do what they pleased with her. She smiled demurely at Rhea, though pale and peaky from all the dressing up. She seemed fragile and delicate, like if someone were to push  her over, she'd shatter into infinite pieces.

      The rest of the women were wearing the most fancy bits of frippery in hopes of attracting a suitor. Even if it didn't necessarily suit them. Rhea felt like laughing mockingly when she saw a redhead wear a pale peach dress from Cohanyth that looked positively revolting on her. There were more objects of derision, which her cutting wit felt like slicing into the ribbons they wore, but she had a reputation to protect. The Queen Mother was putting on a pair of large rubies the size of pigeon's eggs when a messenger burst in. He bowed to the Queen Mother and said nervously, "Your Grace, your grandson, his Highness Prince Edwyn, has requested the presence of Lady Carthenn in the library. He cordially asks you to release the Lady from her current activities." The man, no, more a boy, really, seemed absolutely terrified of the old woman. And rightly so. The forbidding crone was harsh and unforgiving, and extremely devout, none of her qualities appealed to Rhea. She could even reduce poor Harlyn to tears with her vituperative rejoinders. Rhea raised her eyes appraisingly at the beldam, careful not to seem insubordinate for fear of inciting one of her tirades.