She watches her go in silence. Worried, to say the least of it. Unsure how to feel beyond that. That turning over dread in her stomach that - she'd overstepped some line, or misunderstood a custom or.
Or worse, that in some way, she was utterly unappealing to her new wife. The others, the others she could make up for. The others she could learn and apologies for. But if she was unappealing then - ?
The rest gets swallowed up, at least, when her ladies arrive. Chattering eagerly and at least conversation is easy. At least, she can be lead along and, with it, at least a plan. At least, when they begin to undress her, that being unappealing was something she could something about. That she turns them and instructs for what had to be the first time in her life she'd ever been concerned over such a thing, that she wanted to look beautiful. Taking up the clothes that had been laid out of her, and instructing them to do as much as they possibly could for her.
So that when she appears for the night's celebratory dinner - she is exactly that. Dressed regally for the rank she had come from but in the manner of the family she had joined, dripping with gold, her fingers stained delicately as rings and chains hung off them. Her eyes darkly lined and her brow painted in a thin line of dots that curved around and into her hairline - as a newlywed bride would wear on such a night. At least warm, now, that she could walk into the hall with her head held proudly high. Her long black hair trailing almost to her knees, falling back behind her.
If the hope of, please let this be enough, is there, it is buried deep to making sure she did not misstep or fumble as she walks up to take her place as Lady here, to the house and lands. To sit beside her wife, and nod, deeply to her new people, when they bowed to her.
no subject
Or worse, that in some way, she was utterly unappealing to her new wife. The others, the others she could make up for. The others she could learn and apologies for. But if she was unappealing then - ?
The rest gets swallowed up, at least, when her ladies arrive. Chattering eagerly and at least conversation is easy. At least, she can be lead along and, with it, at least a plan. At least, when they begin to undress her, that being unappealing was something she could something about. That she turns them and instructs for what had to be the first time in her life she'd ever been concerned over such a thing, that she wanted to look beautiful. Taking up the clothes that had been laid out of her, and instructing them to do as much as they possibly could for her.
So that when she appears for the night's celebratory dinner - she is exactly that. Dressed regally for the rank she had come from but in the manner of the family she had joined, dripping with gold, her fingers stained delicately as rings and chains hung off them. Her eyes darkly lined and her brow painted in a thin line of dots that curved around and into her hairline - as a newlywed bride would wear on such a night. At least warm, now, that she could walk into the hall with her head held proudly high. Her long black hair trailing almost to her knees, falling back behind her.
If the hope of, please let this be enough, is there, it is buried deep to making sure she did not misstep or fumble as she walks up to take her place as Lady here, to the house and lands. To sit beside her wife, and nod, deeply to her new people, when they bowed to her.