03 | CLOSED

[shri]

WHO: Lakshmi & Alexandrie
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.

Comments

[shri]

"It often is for many women. Some just wear it like that as they go about their daily work."

Lakshmi moves to go and get the top, taking the moment to unlace the back so she could dress her in. "I did go," to kill a man. But none of that even remarks in her voice. "But not quite, not from what I could tell, as it is mostly desert in Jhansi. Perhaps it is closer to Calcutta. A city far to the east of my own, and a port city." She ventures that too, mildly, as she comes back, holding the short top in her hands as she strides up to dress Alexandrie in it. Prompting her to bring her arms up.

"How did you find Tevinter, my lady?" The bangles clatter as she moves. In fact more than that, they chime. As does each step she takes, seems she wears bells too.

[coquettish_trees]

Arms are brought up easily to accept the garment when prompted, although the smooth movement hitches briefly at Lakshmi's question.

How had she found Tevinter.

"It was..." The good parts. There had been good parts. "...Minrathous was a beautiful city." Who knows, now. "All the buildings so old and proud, magic in the air as unremarked on as birds might be. The flowers were beautiful, especially the ones left to their own devices to wind and climb where they would." She wonders, then, about the fate of the flowering vine she had been painting in the slanting sun. Had the fire and bloodshed taken it as it had taken so much else, or did the leaves still wave in the breeze, the flowers bloom in the sun, the stem green and curling and entirely unconcerned with the brutality around it.

"I nearly destroyed something out of fear, but built it instead. There were good things that came back to Kirkwall." Alexandrie looks to the side, her face falling to light sorrow, "There were good things that did not." Emile. Frigga.

[shri]

She pauses in her adjustment as she hears her falter, listening carefully to the tone of the words, in where to step forward, to where her place was. To step over her bounds, where to not. But as the fall away of her face, she steps closer. Her fingers curling to nudge her chin up with the curl of her knuckle and a light push. To meet her intently in it. To never let the gaze falter, to look at her, to look at all of her.

"War always takes more than we ever thought to give, out of our lives, out of ourselves." Her hand drops, settling to her shoulder. "But where it falls, so we find something new, even in their memory."

[coquettish_trees]

No one has touched her in such a way for quite some time, that sure lifting of her chin to look at her in the measuring way that all mothers seem to have. Alexandrie nearly balks at the daring of it, at being made to feel more girl than woman, but with the loss of Emile, there is a sort of simultaneous yearning to again have the security of someone quietly looking after her. The fight of it is obvious, to someone looking as intently as Lakshmi is, but it finally settles into the kind of stubborn pride worn by those who refuse an offered arm and limp on.

Let me pretend, it says. It is all that I have.

"A lesson I would gladly return the knowledge of."

[shri]

"We always would."

She squeezes her shoulder firmly but leaves it there. Because oh, how she knows that look. It has stared at her many times, mirror reflections that hide never so much as one could want.

Her hand drops, her head tilts, eyes sliding away from that gaze. Going back to straightening the pallu that hangs over her shoulder. Fixing the extra material to be neat and drape appropriately with the weight of itself to hold it in place. Smoothing it down and around her body with that deftness still.

It's when she's done that she steps away, letting her look again. "There, it brings out your eyes wonderfully I think."

[coquettish_trees]

Alexandrie hasn't worn colors like this in ages. More than a decade. But Lakshmi is right, it does make her eyes a brighter blue, almost adding a bit of green to them which in turn does lovely things for her hair. She should have to wear a different shade on her lips to truly complete the effect, but it is certainly a look that ought to attract attention to Lakshmi's fashionable endeavors.

"It is lovely," she says, turning this way and that before the mirror to check the profile it creates. The years of tight-laced corsetry mean she still cuts a similar figure to what she might with a more forgiving bodice, and really ought to give viewers something to think on and imagine. What might she be wearing beneath such different clothing? "I think perhaps I have never seen colors so rich and bright, and I think all who comment upon it should be extremely surprised and curious to know it is but one piece of cunningly draped cloth. That alone may be enough to induce others in Hightown to patronize your budding business."