both joy and sorrow sharp as swords

Samara smiled and relaxed knowing she was not being an inconvenience.  “Well I hope she gets better quickly.  If she gets worse I can come and help her you know, I am the apothecary for Cair Paravel.”

She glanced around the shop, looking what they had to offer.  “I was hoping to see if you had any dresses I might like.  I’m always looking to expand my collection.”

“Oh, you are too kind! I will be sure to do so.” Maeve’s ears pricked  upon hearing the words Cair Paravel. “You dwell at the castle, milady? Then it is likely you are acquainted with my brother Ash! He is a gentleman in waiting to King Edmund.” She can’t help but sound proud when she speaks of Ash. 

“We have a small selection, but if you do not see anything that pleases you then you can always commission a dress;” Maeve continued. “We have sample fabrics laid out just in case.”

Although her belongings were still being unloaded from the two carriages she had been brought from Beruna, the young woman had still not been able to bring herself to make her way back into the world she had left a few months ago. Leaving the few servants she had brought with her to unload most of her belongings, Belle had insisted she would return to her chambers later during the day. Instead, she wrapped the red cloak she had possessed for years around her neck and made her way through the familiar town. Her husband had told her countless times he could easily buy her another one, and yet he missed the meaning behind it.

It almost felt bitter sweet, in a strange way. To make her way to what was supposed to be home, when in reality it was due to the fact she did not want to be alone anymore. She had heard from the villagers passing by of a ball for All Hallows Eve, which was her favorite holiday. The time of year when nothing was how it seemed. Desperate to put off returning and facing her woes, Belle found herself walking toward a seamstresses shop.

“Well, I didn’t ring it.” Lowering her hood as she passed the threshold, her eyes fell upon a young woman who did not work here the last time she lingered in the city. Sobering up slightly, she straightened her back and walked forwards to examine the variety of clothes. She was not in the mood for bright colors, and would rather have something darker to wear for the ball. Her palms brushed across a dark emerald velvet cloth, with silver embroidery.

Lifting her eyes from the material, she allowed the woman to examine her face. “I hear a ball is coming up. What do you plan on wearing?” Unaware of her harsh sounding voice, Belle looked up waiting for a response out of mere curiosity rather than anything else.

Admiring the lady’s red cloak, Maeve decided at once that she liked this woman. Or at the very least, she liked her taste. 

She nodded in acknowledgement to the lady’s disclaimer. Perhaps the lady had not rung the bell because she did not wish to be disturbed while she shopped. It was not an uncommon occurrence in the shop. Maeve knew well how to fade into the background when needed and so she did so now, pretending to arrange some pesky lace ribbons that had come undone from their coils.

Still, curiosity got the best of her and she glanced over her shoulder to see what the lady was looking at. Although she had nothing to do with the lady’s personal taste, she felt a small surge of approval when she realized it was the emerald velvet. Maeve had been right: she did have good taste. Her eyes darted to the lady’s face, then away. There was loveliness and sharpness both written all over her countenance. How very gem like indeed. 

She looked up again when the lady (Archenlander perhaps?)  inquired about her own dress for the ball. Now this was a surprise. Though she did try to present herself fashionably for the customers- a challenge when her job could sometimes be messy- the ladies that came into the shop rarely looked twice at the young dryad. But, oh, she couldn’t pass up a chance to talk about her gown for the ball. She’d been full to the brim with excitement like an overflowing cup of wine from the moment that Ash first mentioned it to her. She’d been slaving away on her costume ever since.

“Satin, milady. Green and violet and black with feathers lining my mask.” Her face lit up as she spoke of her costume. Weeks of stitching the different shades together and adding sequins to make the costume shimmer in the candlelight as hummingbirds did in the sunlight was the most ambitious project she’d undertaken so far. Her choice of material certainly had not made the sewing any easier. “I realize a hummingbird’s colors are not quite in season... but they’re my favorite type of bird. I thought they’d make a fine subject for a costume.” 

This was true. Back in the valleys, the dryad had often woken up to the sound of their buzzing as they sipped the nectar from her tree’s fire blossoms. This dress would be a fitting tribute to those dear friends.

“And you, milady? What is it you would like to wear?”