The Burning of the Palace at Versailles (or, Butterfly) [REWRITING]

Chapter 21 - Mascara Tears

Melody wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point during the time they were both writing, Jordan had laid down next to Melody. Melody watched Jordan's stomach move with slow, easy breaths and stared up at the ceiling. It was too quiet without the sound of the piano playing downstairs.

"Why are you so happy?" Melody said into the silence.

Jordan looked up, tilted her head in a way that Melody knew she was asking a question.

"You always seem so happy with everything. You're like a Golden Retriever."

Jordan closed her eyes and smiled. Clearly, she liked the comparison. Then she shrugged.

"It's nice having someone happy around," Melody said. Jordan smiled again.

A quiet knock on the door made them both look up. Diana was there, dressed and with a full face of makeup. She was carrying a stained shoebox in her hands. Her hair was wavy and long. She was magnificent, Melody thought strangely. "Doctor Riley must still be downstairs with Puzzle. Do you want me to do your makeup?"

The connection was so odd that a strangled, squeaky laugh burst out of Melody. Diana raised a filled-in eyebrow. "Yeah, sure," Melody said.

Diana walked to the bed. "Sit up," she said. Jordan jumped off the bed and began stretching. Neither of them acknowledged each other, as if it was just a given that they existed in the same space. "Close your eyes."

Melody did, and warm fingertips spread a rose-smelling liquid over her face. "Rosewater?" she asked.

"Jordan makes it," Diana said softly. Her voice seemed far away, like she was in another room, or underwater. Melody didn't say anything else after that, and time seemed to blend and mold itself into strange shapes.

The light behind her eyes changed as hands and products fluttered over her skin. The burnt orange she normally saw when facing the light changed to a pearly lilac. When a brush went over her eyelids, the color changed to a spring green. Melody thought about nothing and everything, and she saw disembodied hands talking to her. She thought that maybe she fell asleep at some point, because Diana was telling a story about a dog, then suddenly the hands left her face and someone said. "We're done. You can open your eyes."

The late-morning light hurt Melody's eyes when she blinked them open. Then she flinched, noticing how different her eyelids felt.

Diana was sitting in front of Melody, her legs crossed on the bed. "Do you want to see yourself?" she asked.

Melody nodded.

Diana reached into the shoebox and pulled out a small metal compact. "Here."

She opened the compact and gazed into the mirror. Strange, dark eyes with unnaturally long eyelashes stared back at her. Melody blinked, and the eyes blinked back. She held the mirror away from her and admired the work. Colorful eyeshadow framed her eyes and a glittery sheen reflected the sunlight through the window.

"Wow," she said. "I look nice." Melody could see Diana's handiwork in the makeup. There was a certain shading to it. The color of the foundation didn't match Melody's skin perfectly— it was a little too pink— but she appreciated the effort.

"Yeah," Diana said. She took back the compact and leaned over to Jordan, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. Jordan took it and uncapped a lipstick that had been in her lap. With delicate, careful movements, she put it on, the same way a professional would.

It was so, so quiet.

"I look like I'm getting married," Melody said. "You did a great job."

"Thanks," Diana said, and Jordan looked up to beam at Melody.