#goldenkey

Diana Leigh looked at the dress. Its torn edges. Its ragged and threadbare bottom. Its utter lack of a hem. It was perfect. Years of being the Deity of Cloth in the Afterlife and she will exit the same way she entered. The same black dress. The same old clay sphere of room, smothered with drawings. Lakoris entered the room with a tray containing a glass of the one thing Diana swore she’d only have on this occasion: A wine glass filled with strawberry soda. Smelling like chemicals, Lakoris smiled sadly as Diane took it,

“So many of you oldies are leaving! I’m gonna miss all of your talks of The War!” Lakoris said lightheartedly as her deep teal eyes became misty. “And, yknow, I’ll miss you.” Diana laughed and placed an old hand on Lakoris’s shoulder, using her powers as a Seer of Cloth to see the future of the clothes she was wearing,

“You’ll be just fine, dear. Now, ready?” Diana asked with a smile, looking at the future Lakoris could look forward to; reuniting with an old flame, sailing the seven seas as she did before, living her best life. Lakoris smiled as Diana set the strawberry soda on a stool beside the dress, who donned it quickly and had Lakoris zip it up. The dress did as it was supposed to, and began to leech away Diana’s life. Quickly, she grabbed the strawberry soda and slammed it,

“Whoa! Wow! That’s so sweet!” She said in a shock as her skin began to visibly pale, making Lakoris grimace, “No no, it’s really good. I’m glad I got to try it.” She smiled with the warmth of the sun before collapsing, her soul on its way to being reincarnated as someone else somewhere else, maybe even somewhen else. Lakoris went over and checked the pulse, marvelling at the bizzarity of the action.

“Who would have thought I have to check someone’s pulse in the afterlife, what?” She laughed in disbelief, which gave way to a melancholy sigh. Diana was dead, and now Lakoris was the Deity of Cloth.

The coronation passed in a blur, with Iilea congratulating the awkwardly smiling and waving Lakoris, who wore the ceremonial robes of Cloth which weighed forty to forty-five pounds when dry, and so bore a slight hunch and pained expression on her face