Scorched

6

"No! Gods no. That dress is awful." Exclaims Adelaide, whilst shaking her head at the heavy cream-coloured cotton dress Mirabella held out to her. At this point in time Mira has given up with the girl. She didn't know what Adelaide wanted, and she refused all the options displayed to her. What makes matters worse is that the dresses are all hers. She refuses her own dresses. And Mira cannot understand what the girl's problem was, why have a huge range of dresses you don't  even wear? The only fundamental reason for Mira being here at Adelaide's home was to snatch herself a dress from the huge conglomerate dresses that Adelaide has to offer and maybe, just maybe another set of jewelry to match the outfit. Adelaide didn't need to know her needs.

The double doors of her wardrobe barely encloses all the dresses, and was tied with a rope to keep it closed. Now- all the dresses lay sprawled out onto the wooden flooring blanketing them  in heaps of cotton, saffron, tulle, lace and velvet with Adelaide skimming  each of them in disgust; disappointment lingering onto her features at the gruesome dresses  she once thought was striking.

"Adelaide, we are not wasting coin on new dresses, you have hundreds already, you'll have to pick something already." Mira places the cream dress on the floor besides a sea blue dress. Adelaides entire room was sea blue. Her  curtains - now open to let in the fresh warm air; her bedding - now filled to the brim with dresses; even her walls were painted an azure blue. Mira always called her the mermaid as every feature about her screamed mermaid. And being so obsessed with blue definitely meant something alright.

Adelaide looks at her quickly, and points her finger in Mira's direction, "What was that Mira? Repeat what you just said."

Mira rolls her eyes, "I said. Pick a dress. We're not getting new ones."

"I truly apologize but what was that?"

"Adelaide!"

"Yes?"

"You know what I said." Mira collapses onto the dune of dresses.

"Correct. But I don't listen to wrong. So never again do you tell me that we aren't getting new dresses, because I will disown you." Adelaide huffs. Before toeing around her dresses.

Mira chuckles. Adelaide and herself have been good friends for a while. After meeting at a trivial boutique - both girls seeking evening gowns for a festival that has occurred a few years ago - did they surprisingly converge lives till this day. Mira is still stupefied by how they have mangaged to still be good fellows with one another for so long; not that Mira felt a huge sense of enmity towards the girl but because their interests lay on opposite sides. Mira loved adventures whereas Adelaide couldn't stand them and would rather  spent most of her days lounging in a dress sipping affluent tea. The only thing the girls' had in the common - from what Mira has descried, was the fact that they both adored captivating and bewitching men and they  would often go spectate the brawls which took place in a sketchy arena filled with plenty surreptitious villagers. It was something Mira always felt lousy about, but when it came to seeing certain brawlers - her dire fell away. Men could certainly isolate  her feelings of havoc and then disintegrate them into nothingness. How thoughtful.

And here Mira sits with Adelaide. They have arranged to meet up to prep for the festival evening which will take place tomorrow night; Adelaide - without a second thought has abided to Mira to borrow a dress for the evening which lifted a stone off of Mira's chest. She wants to impress men tomorrow night. She really wanted to. It's been too long since she has had male contact and the need was beginning to consume her. Barely having dresses has caused Mira to step in with Adelaide - knowing her variety of clothing, and feeling unequivocal about it. Working with her overseer - Grasel, alleviates  her into  having limited options clothing wise. Working with herbs and brews is no work for a lady in a dress, Grasel mentioned to her one day. Mira didn't see the hindrance for wearing a dress, but she didn't complain. Grasel was wise. She knew exactly what she was talking about. Even if no one understood her.