Petrichor - e.mikaelson

12

In the moment, agreeing to attend the ball seemed the correct answer, of course she would attend, of course she'd go to some fancy dance, why not? Even if it wasn't exactly her scene, she doubted anything bad would happen, she might as well go and just bail if it was bad. But now, standing and looking down at the dress that Elijah had sent for her, she felt way in over her head.

The dress itself was beautiful, it was too beautiful, that was the problem perhaps. It was floor length made of a sheer navy fabric with stars embroidered across it. The fabric was light and it had sleeves down to her wrists which flared out slightly at the ends with a slit up her leg. The material felt so light that it seemed to float as she moved, the waist fitting perfectly while the length grazed her shoes.

When it was delivered with a knock on the door and an invitation in hand, she'd pulled it on to try it, surprised by how it made her feel.

Typically, Frankie wouldn't exactly describe her style as 'nice', she liked the way she dressed, she felt comfortable in her clothes it was just that her style was typically much more masculine, skate shoes and trousers rather than a ball gown with a galaxy embroidered on it.

Pulling the dress on she didn't feel like herself, the skirt made her look like she was floating as she walked while the sleeves and the skirt with its tiny golden embroidered stars glittered and complimented the colour of her hair. It wasn't that she looked bad, she just hadn't dressed like this in a while, maybe ever. Looking so feminine felt bizarre, she felt more exposed, even a little vulnerable.

Perhaps it was the reactions of those around her too, Alaric had come over minutes after she'd pulled it on. He was really just coming to say hi and reassure her that he had fully recovered but he froze in his tracks as he caught sight of her in the living room, his mouth gaping open and his eyebrows rising.

"Frank?" Alaric said in surprise, catching his breath for a moment before continuing, "You look beautiful."

Frankie spun in her place, turning to look at her brother in equal surprise. Her hands crossed over her chest and her cheeks flushed red like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Alaric didn't really know Frankies mother, he'd met her exactly twice though he remembered the battered Polaroid that Frankie used to carry everywhere with her when she first moved in with them as a child. As she stood before him with her hair tumbling down her back and her cheeks flushed red he was struck suddenly by how similar she seemed to that little Polaroid of her mother.

"I don't even know if I'm going to go," she brushed off quickly, flipping her head to tie her hair in a bun on her head, "Matt said they've got some open shifts at the Grill tonight so I might just pick one up instead and make some extra cash."

Alaric groaned loudly, he wanted her to go to the ball and he knew full well that the best way to get Frankie to do something she wasn't sure about, was to goad her into it, "Scared you're gonna trip on the way to dance floor?"