The Unlikeliest of Mates

Chapter 5

"Hm" he says turning his nose up to him and turning around to walk away. The elders turn their gaze to Achilles and smile, their short statures and crowing backs swarming their pressure upon him.

"You have such a good energy, much like your father. I can tell you'll be stronger than him, more focused, less emotional. Even more-so with another alpha to bow to your hand." One of the alpha elders uttered, her face scrunching with an almost sinister smile, eyes barely containing a Scalera, the pupils taking up much of her eyes due to the crinkle of her crow's feet.

Achilles suppresses a shudder as he looks at her and smiles, his upper body bowing at her in acknowledgement.

She nod-bows back.

The elders continue to chat amongst themselves as the event planners continue to rush around the house. A hand grasps his arm and drags him into on of the open sitting areas of the home, which had been turned into a makeshift garment/dressing room with fabrics and sewing materials thrown about along with a tall standing mirror and foot stand.

"Strip."

Achilles raises an eyebrow to the woman who looks at him with an expectant look. It's clear that she's on the design team, with a tape measure around her neck, low hanging glasses on her nose and an exhausted look on her face.

"We don't have all day, come on. Off with everything except underwear."

He complies, quickly stripping out of his clothes, he steps onto the foot stand in front of the mirror, rigid in his compliance. The designer begins taking measurements of his body while another person grabs different colored fabric samples, holding it up to his face and collar bone, then taking notes.

"All done, get dressed and I'll take you to meet with the designer."

Achilles nods and allows himself to be placed in front of another attendant while putting his clothes back on.

"Okay, which three, cream, white, or eggshell?"

"Cream?"

The attendant squinted, then moved on to another set of fabric samples. "Navy, Aegean, Prussian, or Space Cadet blue?"

Achilles assessed the colors with some thought. The navy was a bit on the brighter side whereas the other three were a bit cooler or darker. Aegean and Prussian were pretty with their darker tones, but Space Cadet was such a cold but rich blue that he couldn't help but be taken by it.

"Space Cadet but maybe with some Aegean? If it'll work."

The seamstress nodded, "I'll see what we can do." And with that, she left. Achilles stood taller, almost confused by the interaction but quickly shakes his head and straightens out his top. He then peers around at the flurry of bodies and shakes his head. It was too much for him and he needed to get out before a migraine started. Taking one last look around the lounge, he nods to himself then makes his way to the small kitchenette. It was well passed 11am and he could feel his stomach begin to protest in hunger.

Complying with its demands, he speed walks to the kitchenette, making sure not to bump into anyone along with avoiding his father. He didn't need that right now, again.

He makes it to the room without much preamble, finding this area of the house to be mostly deserted. It was close enough to his father's study to ward off most people he supposes.

Peering into the fridge he takes account of what remains, which frankly isn't much. There is a container of beef tripe stew, seaweed salad, what he assumes is a baked potato wrapped in aluminum foil, old rice and a bag of uncooked bean sprouts. There is also a can of pineapple fanta and diet cherry coke.