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f o u r

As eight o'clock draws in, I'm ready.

Quite excited too if I must say. In fact, I'm almost ecstatic, It's the first time I've ever done something like this and while I'm anxious, I'm dreadfully giddy to actually do something independently. Never before have I left the Manor, not without my parents in tow and even then, I have only ever visited other Manors or our personal market place - one that only those of a higher level are entitled to.

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit I'm taking life lessons from Kian, the stranger I encountered in the shadows of night for a fleeting moment, the criminal that found no qualms with his trespassing, the man who was so confident as to flirt with a girl he had only just met, but... I think he's quite right.

The rest of my life has been arranged for me. One where I'll marry and settle and have children with a man I don't desire to. So, it seems only right that for these next few months, I embrace my youth with one word in mind: fun. He said I should try it. And while dressing well and dining in luxury is certainly nice, I wouldn't go as far as to say it's entertaining.

After my breakfast – yoghurt with fruits and nuts, supplements added to optimise my health – both Margot and Zaveri help me ready myself. I've encouraged them to adorn me in clothes that will help me 'blend', because only they have the knowledge of what life is like away from those with levels such as mine. They seem to struggle for some reason, whispering among themselves as they rifle through my clothes. Some of my favourites are discarded within seconds, to which I frown.

They dust my face only lightly in cosmetics, they say it's to add a depth that those wipes have removed. Like the natural blush of my cheeks, the shadows of my jowls and the tint of my lips. When they've finished, I feel quite liberated. I look unusually mature, and my features seem all the more accentuated. I'd possibly even go so far as to say I look quite, pretty.

Margot pins my hair up casually, draping my fringe up towards the tail that sits high on my head, holding half of my hair up while the other half, still having maintained the waves from yesterday, drapes down my back.

Zaveri, after much deliberation, has me wear sheer tights, a plaid skirt, one flared to my mid-thighs, and a white, ruffle front blouse. I frown at the sight; it's not much different to what I'd wear on an average day, to which she assures me that I'll be wearing a camel toned capelet coat. She tells me that the quality is still a wide stretch from what most can afford, but apparently, it'll be less obnoxious than anything else I own.

She matches the jacket with boots, trimmed at the ankle with white wool. Despite the outfit being slightly autumnal, the chill of the early morning means it'll be quite alright. I suppose I can shed the jacket if I do get too warm as the day proceeds. Although, both girls advise I try not to outstay my welcome.

I appreciate their efforts, very much so, and then I leave the pair as I swan off downstairs, wringing my fingers awkwardly, unused to the feel of them without cotton gloves on my hands.