Porcelain

21

Erik frowned at this new information, reaching into his pocket he pulled out the piece of cream paper. It was even more crumpled up than it originally was. The date of the ball was in two days' time. Erik's eyes flicked back to the stage when Eleanor and Fleurette hopped down. They both picked up a small travel bag and walked down the aisle towards the door. Neither of them looked back and soon with the quiet sound of a door shutting alerted him to the sisters exit.

——

"This one?"

"It's red."

"So?"

"I don't like red." Fleurette muttered and then shooed the shop owner's hands away. Eleanor looked from the red dress in her hands to her sister. The shop owner was waving a tape measure about trying to measure Fleurette's arm length. She even went about muttering how fidgety she was and how she should just let her do her job.

Eleanor ignored her words and held the dress up in front of her. "I quite frankly think red suits you. It suits your pale skin and your green eyes."

"What?"

"Your sister is right," the woman said while clutching onto Fleurette's arm and measuring it.

"But I don't like red."

"So you keep saying!" Eleanor whined. "You keep saying and I keep ignoring. Fleurette, you live in green and blue. You have to wear something special for this! If you turn up in something similar to what you wear in everyday situations, father will no doubt be annoyed." Fleurette was about to answer but suddenly had a tape measure yanked around her waist. She looked to her sister for some sort of help. Eleanor smiled and held the dress out towards her.

The shop owner huffed and shook her head. The old woman even pottered off between the rails of dresses muttering to herself. "No, no that one won't do." She said, Fleurette looked worriedly at the woman's retreating back. All she could see was her back as she practically buried herself in amongst the rows of dresses.

"I think she's mad."

"Don't be mean!" Eleanor exclaimed and looked over a rail with white dresses hanging from it.

"Here," the old woman popped up beside Fleurette, in retort she let out a startled yelp. The woman had just appeared from nowhere.

The red dress the old woman was holding was more or less like the one Eleanor was previously holding. It was seemingly very long, or the trail on the skirt made it appear longer than it actually was. The skirt itself was ruffled and had the appearance of many layers. But even without touching and holding it, Fleurette could tell there weren't as layers to it then it appeared. All in all, this dress was somewhat of an illusion. She also had to admit to herself that she actually liked it. If only it wasn't red.

The woman shoved the dress into her hands and ignored Fleurette's disgruntled expression. From behind her Eleanor exclaimed with glee of finding the perfect dress for herself. With a frown she looked over her shoulder at her sister just before getting shoved into a changing room.

——

Whistling and leaning against her desk, Fleurette shut her eyes. Her head bobbed against her hands as she continued to whistle. Her happy tune however started to dwindle when she heard footsteps approaching her room. Turning in the chair, she frowned lightly as the footsteps walk right past. If she sat quietly she could hear music coming from the bottom level.

Her father had yet again shut himself away in the drawing room to play his violin for numerous hours to come. Not that she minded, her father was a very good violinist. It was pleasant to sit and listen to the music which he played. Fleurette picked up the book next to her and flicked through it. She was bored. Sitting in her room in near silence was what she used to do before uprooting to the opera house. Being back here, doing more or less the same routine bored her. Fleurette also realised how mundane her life was before uprooting elsewhere.