A/N: Well, here's the silver dress I finally picked. A LOT of you guess emailed me options and I loved everyone, but ultimately I picked this one. I would love to thank everyone who sent me this dress, but there are a few of you. If you have, thank you so much! It's exactly what I looked for.
"When you're at a movie theater which armrest is yours?" Bryan asks - breaking the silence.
"Well, I'd assume it's your right arm?" Ryan answers.
We were sitting silently on the jet while we travel closer and closer to Trojan territory. It's already been a long journey and whenever I think I can fool myself into sleeping, l one of the damn twins pops up a question to break the silence.
"But why your right arm? Why not your left?" Bryan insists.
"Most people are right-handed," Ryan answers his twin.
"But what about the left-handed people? What about them? Can we just idle stand by while left-handed people are being discriminated against?" Bryan points out with a bit of a puff in his chest. He pushes back his brown hair while his twin plays with a stray lock on his own head.
"You're right, Brother. We need to petition against the injustice brought upon left-handed people," Ryan says while not taking his eyes off of his stray lock.
"You're damn right we should. Who's with me?" Bryan asks the rest of us.
Lynch is asleep. Both Vixon, Gareth and Falcon blink, Blake doesn't react, Owen rolls his eyes, the rest stare and Myra finally flushes the toilet before coming out.
"What's this about?" Myra asks.
"We're starting a petition against the injustice against left-handed people," Bryan announces proudly.
"Are you left-handed?" Myra asks.
"Of course!" Bryan says and raises his fist in exclamation. His right fist.
Myra tugs at her purple wig and raises her eyebrow at the twins looking at her like they're some kind of heroes. How old are those two? Eighteen? Seventeen? They must share a brain.
"You want to join?" Bryan asks with his fist still raised.
Myra stares.
Bryan keeps his fist in the air.
"Sure, why not," Myra sighs and moves to get back in her seat. I don't miss how she's looking at everyone except Blake.
The rest of the flight is no different. By the time we finally get to land, the sun is already crawling for the horizon. We don't have much time. A bit hurried, we all haul our bags through the house we have hired and everyone gets aggressive when it comes to claiming rooms. Lynch especially.
When I have a room to get ready in and Blake is off somewhere in the house, I take a moment to just sit on my bed and breathe. I turn the engagement ring over a few times before jumping up and getting my two dress options.
Gold or silver?
Amber or Rebma?
Me or...
or me.
Me.
Without thinking, I pack the golden dress back into it's large bag and undress. Because I've had a long journey, I get into the shower first, boil and scrub my flesh, before getting back out and slipping into underwear and straps. I perfume and lotion my body before trying to get the silver dress over my head.
"Well, shit," I mutter when I'm positive the dress is stuck. I can't even see with my arms trapped above my head and the damn thing refusing to make it past my shoulders. Have I gotten fat or something? Maybe Xavier got my size wrong.
"Oof, someone needs help," I hear a friendly voice say from the door.
"Did you just 'oof' at the sight of Sterling's leader?" I ask Myra.
I hear your fighting is incredible. Men must tremble and gangs must bend at the sight of Sterling's leader. But the dark days are gone. You're finally defeated," Myra says dramatically and then adds: "by a dress."
"A very skilled dress!" I defend.
Myra chuckles and I hear her walking over and helping me tug at the dress. She hisses at me a few times to be careful and that I'll rip at it. I reply that the dress needs to pay for it's crimes. It's weird having a friendly moment with Myra. I haven't really had time for anyone and the mysterious girl Owen brought back reminds me of Jessica. My cousin was my best friend, and well, all blondes need a brunette best friend.
Or in this case, a brunette posing as a purple-head? Purplette? Is that a word? Probably not.
Go away, I scold Amber.
When Myra finally has me freed, she helps me fit the dress and starts tugging at the ends. "You do realize this thing has a zip," she points out.
"I knew I couldn't have gained that much fat," I sigh in relief.
"Triglycerides," Myra corrects while helping me get into my heels.
"Trigly-what?" I ask.
"Triglycerides. It's the scientific term for fat," Myra says absentmindedly while working at the cape.
"I guess it's safe to assume you're exceptionally smart. Knowledge a passion of yours?" I ask.
"To be honest, cooking is more my thing. I love cooking, but knowing things is pretty cool too. I mostly teach myself. Google plays a big part," Myra replies with a small smile while she finishes up with my dress. "Can I do your hair?" she asks.
"Don't you have to get ready as well?" I ask.
"Oh, I'm not going."
"Why?"
"I'm not really someone."
"You're the girl that saved Sterling's leader from a dress. You have to be there. How disappointed will all the poor gang-members be when they cannot directly hear the tale of Myra, the wise saving Rebma the mother of triglycerides from the skilled assassin dress," I joke back in a serious voice.
"You're funny," Myra says and pushes me to a chair so she can start working on my hair. "I see why everyone is at your feet," she adds.
I shake my head. "Amber's feet. Amber is the funny one. Whoever I am now is just a ghost of the girl who was," I sigh.
Myra doesn't respond and continues working on my hair.
"I have a dress for you. It's gold and big and beautiful and you'd look stunning in it. Purple or brunette hair.
"I don't have a mask," Myra says and blows her purple fringe out from her eyes.
"I still have the one Blake gave me. You can wear it."
Myra goes silent again.
I sit as she finishes with my hair and then gets my makeup from my bag. She's wise enough to use some concealer for the bags under my eyes first. It's not like anybody will see it at the masquerade, but it's the thought that counts.
When Myra is done, she pushes me towards the mirror.
I want to gasp. Maybe I did. I'm not sure. But if last year's golden dress made me look like some goddess, this one... This one makes me the queen of gods.
The silver dress fits me like a glove. The detailed lace hugs my figure like all the dresses Mysterious Fucker sent me in the past. The touch of tiny crystals in the material with it's silver aesthetic makes me look frozen. Like ice has spread all over and turned me into a statue. The material webs out and then falls to the floor like melted crystal and silver when it comes past my ass. There's a slit by my right side, revealing a pale leg that only adds to the frozen feeling. The sleeves are off-the-shoulder and crystallize my arm mid-way before stopping so delicately I'm not exactly sure where the fabric ends.
But the thing that really gets me is the cape. The soft silver material that looks like a gentle mist falling from my shoulders and to the floor. The smallest breeze will make it whip behind me like a proud flag. Queen. I'm a queen made of mist and silver and sin. And my enemies will crumble.
I look up and Myra has quite the eye for makeup. Silver eye-liner and icy eye shadow complement the nude lipstick. My hair is pinned back and falls down my spine. The pale blonde color crowns the look.
I glance over and notice Myra's saddened expression.
"Do you love Blake?" I ask.
Caught off guard, Myra shakes her head furiously and moves away. "What are you talking about? he's your fiance! I, I barely know the guy," she protests.
I move away from the mirror - noticing how the dress drags behind. I join Myra at the bed and take the golden dress out of the bag. In silence Myra watches as I hold it up to her. It's a bit big, but if I cut out the under-dress, it'll fall down perfectly. The gold actually compliments her purple hair.
"Do you hate him?" I ask.
Myra has so much in her eyes when she answers: "With all my heart."
I nod in understanding and unzip the dress. "Then let's make these boys drool," I smirk.
We turn out to be five minutes late according to the schedule Blake has. The initial reaction everyone has when they see me is a mix between jaw-drops and wolf-whistles. Blake looks at me in confusion. Even more confusion when Myra steps out with the altered golden dress. Without the volume, the dress falls to the floor like a curtain. It fits her tiny figure perfectly and her experience with very high heels makes her tall enough for the dress.
"What are you wearing?" Blake asks through his golden mask.
Instead of getting annoyed at him not just telling me I look fine, I bring the silver mask in my hand to my face and gently, clip it into my hair. The mask is delicate enough around my eyes, but it grows and twirls it's way through my hair. Unlike the flower-kind of twirls Blake's golden mask for me had, this one is made of thorns.
"I'm wearing my armor," I reply.
Blake's golden tie doesn't match too much with my outfit change, but he still looks rather handsome in the suit. The rest of the guys, even Lynch who failed at taming his hair is looking pretty neat as well. And dangerous. In the different masks all of them have these boys look dangerous.
We head to the limos that are waiting. The first limo is for my gang members. The twins, Lynch and a few others Vixon brought in. The second limo is for my inner-gang. Sean, Owen, Falco, Gareth and Vixon - the latter in a suit a little too small for his broad frame and his beard about as wild as Lynch's hair.
The last limo is for Blake and me.
"You do look beautiful, though," Blake says as an apology when we're on our way.
"Are you sure we can't sneak weapons in?" I ask and change the subject.
"No. They check you and quite thoroughly. Besides, after all the years there's only been one casualty at the annual ball and that was ten years ago when a gang member's date stabbed another girl with her fork," Blake explains.
"A fork?" I ask.
"Some of us like the wild girls," Blake says with a wink.
There it is. Some of the old Blake from when I was still taming the West's leader.
"Agreed. Just promise not to stab anyone with a fork," I shoot right back.
Blake chuckles. "There's my girl," he smiles.
Nope, not her, I sadly muse to myself.
When we get to the venue for the masquerade, it's clear this is the biggest secret event of the year. It's practically a palace we drive up to. Dozens of cars wait to drop off gang-members and photographers (which I don't understand) are ready at the black carpet. Ebony carpet to be honest. Even from here, I notice how it sucks in all the color from people walking over it.
We move closer and closer to the entrance and I study the people walking in through the giant doors. The window is tinted, but still I don't miss all the dangerous men in suits and masks getting scanned for metal at the door. They're dates are scanned just as thoroughly.
"You ready?" Blake asks when our first limo stops at the carpet and my gang gets out. My fiance takes my hand and kisses the engagement ring like he thinks it might break if he kisses it too hard. His eyes turn to tinfoil even behind the golden mask.
"For slaughter and death and pain? Of course," I smile.
"We're just going to dance."
"Same thing."
Blake chuckles and his eyes go back to silver-grey as we crawl closer to the entrance. Just a few more seconds and I'm stepping out. All eyes will be on Sterling's new leader. Heir? With my father potentially alive and here tonight, does that even make me Sterling's leader?
Before I can fully comprehend it, we stop in front of the carpet and Blake gets out. Nobody comes to open my door as Blake confidently rounds the limo and opens my door for me himself.
"My darling," Blake says as he extends his hand.
Without even breathing, I take his hand and slip out of the limo. Blinding lights flash and snap at every direction. The clatter of snapping photos and buzzing voices asking for a pose is mixed with the classic music seeping from the palace-like mansion.
Blake hooks his arm into mine and tugs at me. Remembering how to walk, I follow him to the doors. I look down and notice how the dark carpet is eating at all the color. All except my dress- like it shies away from the melting silver and crystal. Like it knows I'm march darker.
There's a large man scanning Blake and then moving onto me when Blake's clean. My heart surprisingly stays calm while he scans me and a green light flickers on his scanner.
He motions for us to pass him and we meet a handsome man at the door with silver side-burns and dark hair. He looks charming, probably in his late forties and smiles at me like a lion.
"Welcome, Miss D'logiram. I'm Clarence de Cotyngham. Leader of the Trojan gang. I hope you enjoy the night," he says and takes my hand to kiss it. When he sees the engagement ring, his eyebrow quirks for a second before he looks at Blake and back at me.
"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Sir De Cotyngham," I greet and thank the Gods for not stumbling over that awful last name.
"Please, call me Clarence," the charming man says before kissing my hand and letting it go. "Enjoy the masquerade," he says and motions for me to walk past him.
"Does he recognize me through the mask or something?" I whisper to Blake.
"Some say Clarence de Cotyngham sees everything," Blake whispers right back.
Should've known that one.
And with one more step, we pass the grand doors and enter the palace of predators.
Helloooo goldies!
Ahhhhhhh, the masquerade is here!!!! Soooooo excited!!! Who's ready to dance and get drunk and possibly die?
*Far off shouting coming from the screen* We are! We are!
I can't hear you!
*More far off shouting* We are!
I said I can't here you-
Bitch, you deaf????
Lol, I'm weird. Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. Next one is going to be to die for! Who approves the Myra and Amber friendship? How are the ships even looking?
Blamber
Amwen
Xamber
Seamber
Ambessa
Other
Please remember to vote!!!!!
~ Holly Shmit