InkSkin

A New Collar

After hours of seemingly endless torture, Alsuha was certain now that she irrevocably hated shopping. She was used to the dirty, indistinguishably hued rags she'd worn in the Pitts. She had never realized there were so many colors that could be trapped into bits of cloth. She was in awe ... but from afar.

She hated the crush of people in the market as she and LuSol made their way to the Dressmaker's Square. She hated the noise; it reminded her too much of a battlefield where she could not fight and she didn't know how to react.

As a result, she was a stiff figure walking tensely beside the Prince, who strolled down the street comfortably nodding and smiling at everyone. While, Alsuha scrutinized every smiling face and searched every shadow for any possible threat. Her neck ached from how tight her muscles had gotten.

But what really had Alsuha desperately clutching at her sanity were the fittings, the measuring, and the strange hands touching her constantly. It was all too much for someone who was unused to being touched.

When one of the many assistants had come up behind her to help measure her she had grabbed his arm and had him flipped onto his back, her knee pressed to his throat, all before anyone else in the room even realized she'd moved. LuSol had had to explain to her what the man had been doing and why before she agreed to let him loose.

He had apologized on her behalf as Alsuha, her face burning, had gotten to her feet. No one moved for what seemed an eternity to Alsuha, but with his seemingly endless charm, Prince LuSol had had the head Seamstress smiling and even daring to approach Alsuha once more. The collar, gleaming at her throat, did help.

The Prince's colors turned out to be indigo, royal blue and gray. The Prince ordered sixteen full outfits to be prepared for Alsuha, not counting the five they walked out of the Dressmaker's shop with. LuSol had Alsuha replace the copper hued clothes she'd been wearing with wide-legged charcoal gray pants, a light gray fitted short tunic and a loose fitting royal blue and indigo robe with silver-gray stitching.

"My colors look very nice on you." The Prince's voice pulled Alsuha out of her shocked reverence over the beauty of the clothes she was wearing. Not even the outfit the Queen had given her to wear had been made of such fine cloth. She had to constantly force her hands from gliding over the fine stitching of her over-robe.

"Do they?"

"Yes." Alsuha was startled when LuSol stopped walking, turned to her, framed her face with his hands, which she couldn't keep herself from flinching from and was grateful that LuSol ignored her reaction, and tilted her head up so that he could gaze down into her face.

"Your eyes are a kaleidoscope of colors, as though a rainbow had somehow been infused into a gem. Even for an Ink'd, they are the oddest eyes I've ever seen. They are both beautiful and disturbing."

Is that supposed to be a compliment?

"So, yes, my colors suit you perfectly." Alsuha gave an incredulous snort as she tried not to look him in the eye.

"What next?"

"Now," LuSol said with a sigh as he let his hands fall to his sides. "We get you your new collar."

For a second, Alsuha met the Prince's gaze, but the anger and pain she saw in them had her averting her gaze quickly. What did he have to be angry and hurt about? She was the one that had to wear the damn thing?

"Oh," Was all she could think to say out loud as no ready quip came to her.

Prince LuSol led Alsuha to a round structure, which had been erected in the very center of the market district.