Seralyn winces, watching helplessly as a drop of bright crimson blood falls onto her mother’s best dress. She mutters a curse under her breath, setting her mending to the side and bandaging her pricked finger with leftover cloth. “One would think, after eleven years of practice, I would at least have stopped spilling blood every time I sew.” Seralyn thinks to herself, staring hopelessly at the piles of mending left to do.
“Seralyn!”
Seralyn quickly grabs her mending attempting to look as though nothing is wrong.
“Ser-A-Lyn!”
Seralyn’s mother burst through the door of her tiny workroom. “Sera…! Oh! There you are! Is Nadene’s Choosing dress complete yet? The Choosing is in two days and she hasn’t even tried it on yet.”
“She tried it on yesterday…” The words are mumbled, but not low enough to escape the ear of Daliah.
“What was that?!” Seralyn’s mother turns, her face twisted in a way that would make an ogre run. “If I say she hasn’t tried the dress on, then she hasn’t tried it on. Is that clear?”
“Yes mother.” Seralyn tosses her mending to the side and goes to a rack of dresses, each more lovely than the last. Carefully, she lifts the most intricate and beautiful of all the gowns, a dress of expensive emerald green crushed velvet, with gold stitching
not real gold like royalty but beautiful nonetheless
. “Here is Nadene’s dress, I hope she finds it acceptable.”
Daliah looks the dress over, scrutinizing every centimeter of the luscious fabric. Seralyn holds her breath. If one stitch is out of sorts she’ll surely receive a beating.
“Hmm. Well I suppose it will have to do. Nadene! Darling, come see what your cousin has so kindly made for you.” Seralyn notes that, unlike when her mother called for her, Daliah’s voice had an almost sing-song quality to it making Nadene’s name sound like something ethereal. Seralyn looks to the dress. It took her a month’s wages and three day’s trip into the big town of Carlston to gather the crushed velvet and golden thread to create her masterpiece. She begged Daliah to go with a cheaper fabric so she might have money left over for her own Choosing dress. However, Daliah wouldn’t hear of it, only the best for the “Jewel of Petranova”.
“Yes Aunt Daliah?” Nadene’s soft, airy voice breaks through Seralyn’s thoughts, as her cousin glides through the door, lovely as always even in her worst, most patched dress.
“Ah, there you are darling! Come, come! Your cousin has finished you Choosing dress.” Nadene steps into the room and Seralyn assists her into the gown, pinning up her hair to accentuate the intricate detail in the neckline. Nadene twirls around the room stopping in front of the single, full-length mirror.
“Oh! Aunt Daliah, it’s simply beautiful!” She twists and turns, oohing and aahing over the small details. Seralyn looks Nadene up and down. The dress fits like a glove. The brilliant emerald green of the crushed velvet sets off Nadene’s golden blonde hair. With her plump red lips and crystal blue eye, Nadene is a true beauty. Her hips are perfectly proportioned in relation to her small waist and adequate
though not overly large
bust.
Suddenly, Seralyn notices another figure in the mirror. This figure is very different than the angelic figure of Nadene. This figure is plump
not fat, but without the tiny waist beloved in her country
. Her hair, which falls just below her bottom, is blue, not black, but blue like the clearest night sky. Her wide, doe-like, violet eyes stand out against her milky white skin. She is a strange looking maiden. The kind of creature spoke of in fairy tales and bedtime stories. A nymph that will lure the unsuspecting into a deadly trap, or a witch who boils little children to make her brew. Sometimes she imagines herself to be a faerie, but faeries are beautiful. Seralyn turns away from the figure in the mirror back to her mending. A tear slides down her cheek, for that creature is her. And she is ugly.
“Seralyn, are you still here?” Daliah asks, only half interested.
“Yes mother. I am just gathering some finished mending to deliver to Ariana’s house down the street.”
“Very well, but do not forget your cloak and remember to keep your hood up at all times. I think I would die if anyone saw that hideous hair of yours. Oh and no eye contact either!”
“Yes mother.”
