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Entry tags:
03 | CLOSED
WHO: Lakshmi & Alexandrie
WHAT: Fancy Material, pretty clothes.
WHEN: A Time.
WHERE: Lexie's place.
NOTES: Nothing as yet.
WHAT: Fancy Material, pretty clothes.
WHEN: A Time.
WHERE: Lexie's place.
NOTES: Nothing as yet.
She presents herself of a morning to Lady Alexandrie's residence looking - well presented to her last inch, but more than that. All of herself, all of her homeland, of the daughter of a devout Brahmin man, of a Maharashtrian woman. Her saree is tied fast to her hips and pleated perfectly to show off the heavy gold border, vibrant against the deep blue of her favourite colour. Her long, long hair was braided and pinned to the back of her head in a high bun, and ringed with soft white flowers. But it is certainly enough that she catches the eye of more than one person as she walks, and does walk. No grand entourage, and no concern either. Because though she might be wearing enough to feed a family for a year, the sword at her hip and the utter confidence is enough to deter anyone desperate enough to try. That, and, she supposed, her cropped choli top exposed the heavy scars on her back and sides, the rest hidden behind the drape of the saree over her front. Take, as a plainly stated as to say it herself, at your own risk.
She greets Alexandrie's doormen, bowing respectfully to them as she would anyone else, and waits to be received. Takes the meantime to fish out the garments she had made for the Lady to consider. Because this was a little more than simply sharing after all. She needed someone to champion her to the upper classes where no Rifter could ever get a foot in easily. The garments that she and Galadriel had worked out on would be one of a kind, that she was absolutely sure of. Laying the folded up fabric on top of each other, the tops and skirts tucked with each one. The colours were nothing less than vibrant and rich. Silk and cotton woven into all stunningly bright materials.
Strange still, no matter how long though, that no one here took their shoes off indoors. How odd now, as she waits, looking over the walls and ceiling. How things could be the same, how they could be utterly different.