31st Summer
Despite her somewhat rigid beliefs pertaining to social convention and law, Amelia (wrongly) liked to think herself as open-minded. She could just about forgive a person for wearing pink and orange together (although pink and red was unforgiveable and quite possibly the most reliable sign of madness and/or colour blindness), and likewise she understood that not everyone had been given the countless lessons in social etiquette that she had received as a child.
But even a patient, charitable and all round flawless person such as Amelia found herself a little jarred by the appearance of the woman who now stood before her. Her eyes darted from the mohawk (an actual mohawk, really?!), to the earrings (are they bones?!) to the hideous eye tattoo that stared right back at Amelia from the woman’s forehead.
And the blonde, unable to stop herself, flinched and gave a dramatic little gasp.
The act was soon swallowed up by a tiny cough, a readjustment of Amelia’s posture that indicated her self-control had once again got her initial shock under control. She stood there, the vision of a perfectly groomed young Lhavitan socialite, opposite a woman who could only be described as…
Wild.
Amelia gulped, still taken aback by the sight in front of her, if no longer openly horrified. “Oh. Hello. I’m Amelia.” She said cautiously, her clipped pronunciation softened by her intense astonishment at the appearance of the woman. She was utterly taken aback; Amelia could spot at least six of the most basic fashion laws that had been broken in the single individual who now stood before her.
I get that most people aren’t as stylish as I am, but this is a whole new level…
Still, Amelia gestured to the materials and tools that lay on her table. If there was ever a woman who was in dire need of a make over and style advice, it was this poor creature. Quite quickly the seamstress’ surprise gave way to something else; pity and a desperate need to show this woman the Light. “I’m giving free make overs and style advice today. So if you’re interested, I can sketch you a couple of new outfit plans,” How much easier it was for Amelia to pull herself together when she was no longer looking at the woman! Her green eyes thus remained trained on the silks and cottons that she now touched, “or perhaps give you a make over, or…” Unavoidably her green eyes lifted back to the face of the strange woman. It took every inch of self-control for Amelia not to grimace, “…a new way to style your…” She swallowed as her gaze rose higher and higher, to the very tips of the woman’s ridiculous mohawk, “hair..?”
And so, with great effort, Amelia pulled her painted lips into a smile that she could only hope concealed her utter terror.
Despite her somewhat rigid beliefs pertaining to social convention and law, Amelia (wrongly) liked to think herself as open-minded. She could just about forgive a person for wearing pink and orange together (although pink and red was unforgiveable and quite possibly the most reliable sign of madness and/or colour blindness), and likewise she understood that not everyone had been given the countless lessons in social etiquette that she had received as a child.
But even a patient, charitable and all round flawless person such as Amelia found herself a little jarred by the appearance of the woman who now stood before her. Her eyes darted from the mohawk (an actual mohawk, really?!), to the earrings (are they bones?!) to the hideous eye tattoo that stared right back at Amelia from the woman’s forehead.
And the blonde, unable to stop herself, flinched and gave a dramatic little gasp.
The act was soon swallowed up by a tiny cough, a readjustment of Amelia’s posture that indicated her self-control had once again got her initial shock under control. She stood there, the vision of a perfectly groomed young Lhavitan socialite, opposite a woman who could only be described as…
Wild.
Amelia gulped, still taken aback by the sight in front of her, if no longer openly horrified. “Oh. Hello. I’m Amelia.” She said cautiously, her clipped pronunciation softened by her intense astonishment at the appearance of the woman. She was utterly taken aback; Amelia could spot at least six of the most basic fashion laws that had been broken in the single individual who now stood before her.
I get that most people aren’t as stylish as I am, but this is a whole new level…
Still, Amelia gestured to the materials and tools that lay on her table. If there was ever a woman who was in dire need of a make over and style advice, it was this poor creature. Quite quickly the seamstress’ surprise gave way to something else; pity and a desperate need to show this woman the Light. “I’m giving free make overs and style advice today. So if you’re interested, I can sketch you a couple of new outfit plans,” How much easier it was for Amelia to pull herself together when she was no longer looking at the woman! Her green eyes thus remained trained on the silks and cottons that she now touched, “or perhaps give you a make over, or…” Unavoidably her green eyes lifted back to the face of the strange woman. It took every inch of self-control for Amelia not to grimace, “…a new way to style your…” She swallowed as her gaze rose higher and higher, to the very tips of the woman’s ridiculous mohawk, “hair..?”
And so, with great effort, Amelia pulled her painted lips into a smile that she could only hope concealed her utter terror.
