Normal
But this room has already become my home. Reading for eight hours straight to resolve boredom and pacing for minutes on end each time the text got a little interesting may have forcibly made me more familiar with it. And the bed is amazing; my neck’s barely sore.
Two hundred crescents… I could hang up a painting! Maybe a poster. Maybe even buy a radio?
It’s easier that I don’t need to pay for my own clothes. Mine have gone a bit ragged as I have no actual clue where I’m supposed to wash or hang them—Maybe the dresses need dry cleaning so she hasn’t bothered?
Either way, I can hear Mistress Vincenza moving through the halls outside, so I assume it’s morning. Time to put on these rags, one last… I didn’t notice that there was a paper note in my pocket.
‘Heeeeey Cattieeeee!!! You fell asleep, and Decz couldn’t figure out how to wake you up.
Anywaaaaay, ghoul hunting in the trenches is in a couple weeks!
You’re coming, right? One of my consorts couldn’t make it, so I’ll fuck you in his stead if you come.
’ A smiley face is crudely drawn between the sentences.
‘Also, Decz trying to make it a threesome. ‘
“Wow.” All of that but the last part is making my heart race.
“I heard you in there.” Mistress Vincenza taps against my door. “We leave in twenty minutes.”
“Got it, Mistress.” I stuff my note and heart away.
Mistress Vincenza seats me beside her in an old fashioned steam car.
The stitching has been redone many times where it isn’t outright ripped. The engine hums with an aggression that shouldn’t be possible for an object. And I think I saw her hitting something under the bonnet with a rock when I came out of the parlour.
“Pick a channel,” she offers while grabbing the radio dials.
“I like jazz.”
“Thirty-two point seven then.” While the memory of distant musicians fill the cabin with their echo, she turns up the throttle. “This thing doesn’t have good breaks, so don’t distract me.”
“Ye—“ I shut up before I distract her.
“Good sense,” she praises.
Praises.
The nicest thing she’s said to me.
She steers us onto the road, barely glancing her eyes back to me. “You’re giddy.”
“Is that good?” I whisper.
She smiles. “Didn’t I say something about distractions?”
“Yes! Uh—Sorry.”
She snickers.
But snickering isn’t anger. It isn’t aggression. It’s joyful.
I’m not being a burden. I’m not being a burden. I’m not being a burden.
I diligently count each time Mistress Vincenza looks annoyed—each one my fault.
Twelve. Could be worse.
“Okay… No parking.” She reaches into the glove department. “Take this envelope, hand it to the woman inside, and she’ll complete the rest.”
“Woman inside where?” I look at the block we’ve hit the edge of. People walk in through open, covered avenues, absent of any vehicle larger than a bike.
“Towards the center. Madam Stella’s Luxury Fabrics. Ask someone if you can’t find it.”
“...Why am I going alone?”
“Because I’m busy and you’re an actual adult who doesn’t need my constant care.”
Somewhere between living with my parents and being in something vaguely adjacent to education, I almost forgot about that.
“I understand, Mistress. Do I wait for you after?”
“I should be back before you’re done.” She glances emptily at the block. “If you finish early, you have an opportunity to spend your stipend. Just be back in front of Stella’s by ten hundred.”
I lick the back of my teeth. “I didn’t bring it.”
She silently covers her face in her hands.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, no. It’s fine. It’s reasonable to assume you would be shopping on your own time.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out five crescents, which she pushes onto me. “If you get hungry—What did you eat yesterday?”
“Waffles.” And a melted scoop of maple syrup-doused gelato that came on top of the waffles.
“As a condition of my employment, I expect you to eat. And on your own. Do not agitate me.”
“I won’t! And… I will.” I didn’t mean to forget to eat. I just didn’t… Maybe I could’ve bought more waffles with the stipend?
“Wrong order.” Her eye blinks—or twitches, maybe. “Just get out.”
I force my way out and dash before I disappoint her more. The people are many, but the block is finite. I’ll find Stella’s… eventually.
Awnings of cloth and glass cover the alleys. Protection for the vampires—shade for me. The coverings split into diagonal paths, spanning over the otherwise open interior, but I only dance the ring around until I stumble upon the row of furniture and textile suppliers.
And just there, between the Necromancy Shell and Lawrinian Import Carpeting, Madam Stella’s Luxury Fabrics. Only one woman inside, not counting the well dressed mannequins that stare at me.
She’s a bit large with her waist cinched in while padding pushes out her bust and hips, giving her the strong veneer of thinness. Somebody’s type, for sure.
She looks up to me as the bell rings with my entrance, eyes spinning a glowing green hue of patronization that’s reflected by the holy rings which pierce her skin.
“Welcome. Prefabricated outfits are adjusted for free.” Her voice is monotone, but in a gentle way.
Like a still canal, and not Mistress Vincenza’s pile driven stability.
“Hi.” I pace up to her counter and push forward the envelope.
Something cold draws down my face. Eyes I cannot see peer and steal warmth wherever their sight lands. The sound of distant laughter echoes from the back door.
I bring my frigid arms together. “Mistress Vincenza said I could get my new outfit here?”
Her body and voice twitch to life, eyes studying me. “You don’t look like someone she would take in.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re just a bit sad looking. And pale.” She fumbles for a knife and tears open the envelope, laughing at the contents.
“She’s paler than me, isn’t she?”
“Well, you’re poor too.”
I clench my teeth.
“So she did. What a woman. Alright. Let’s get you measured. Stand over there.”
“By the… Here?” I step into a semicircle of mirrors and hanging suits.
A marching order of footsteps, an entire band of people, circle around me. I blink, but when my eyes open, the world is only so slightly darker than it was. It’s still just her.
“Great. Just there.” She steps behind me and lifts up my arms, taking a measuring tape around my body. “Favorite color?”
“I kind of like grey.”
“Beautiful choice, nearly correct. But you’re going to be wearing black if you want to be a necromancer.”
“Oh… okay.”
“And until you figure out how to change these rags”—she pinches the skin of my arm—“you’re going to need some nice black makeup too, just about the eyes. You’re on the whiter end than me, so the rest of your face will go into adding contrast.”
This is vastly uncomfortable, but it’s hard to ask her to stop.
“Do I get to choose what outfit I wear?” I ask.
“Sweety, no. Vincenza wouldn’t be a real mistress if she let you choose. And besides, you wanted a dress anyway, didn’t you?”
“I, uh—I guess. Aren’t there different types of dresses?”
“And you’re getting the correct one. Don’t worry.”
Leg measurements. Hip measurements. Waist measurements. Chest measurements. Everything I am in numbers and uncomfortable touching.
“Your nose is a bit small, and that’s quite the eruption of freckles. What ratio of Roversellan to Lawrinian are you?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m just Roversellan.”
“Really?” She steps back. “And you don’t wear glasses, right?”
“I do. I just… They’re inconvenient. And I can read close things mostly fine.”
“Vincenza won’t do with a blind apprentice. Not at all.”
My head hesitates backwards as she taps the space around my eyes.
“I can’t make lenses, but we do have frames. I’ll be right back with them.”
The moment she leaves the room, my breath can ease.
“Do you have to yelp each time?”
“I like to.”
“Well, it’s Vincenza’s problem to fix, not mine.” She continues working the cuffs on the dress—prefabricated.
“...Is there pricking in necromancy?”
“Plenty, for the fun spells.”
Absolutely nothing I hate more than needles in my skin. It’s made by the Ring to be whole. Not pierced and penetrated like a pincushion. Even… if I feel like a pincushion right now. And even with exceptions like holy piercings.
I should distract myself. “Do you know her?”
“Vincenza? Tons. She would always come in here with—“ Her hand suddenly freezes. “She always wanted bespoke dresses, short notice. For. Every. Single. Event. Great customer, and friend.”
“A past apprentice?”
“Yes. Their soul’s been scattered upon the Ring, its blessings upon them. Don’t go the way they did, now.”
“I’ll try.”
“It’ll be easier to try in a good dress.” She steps back, a delayed score of echoes following. “How’s that look? Does it feel alright? Vincenza chose the style, but the fit can be modified.”
I pick up the edges of the dress and slowly sway. The dark lace falls in shallow waves down my legs despite my attempts to control it.
Beautiful. Pure. Industrial brilliance.
There’s many dresses just like this one all around, but this one’s on me. No pinching. Somehow, no scratching either. Tolerable.
“I like it.” And I smile so that she believes me.
“Vincenza didn’t specifically request for this addition, but I could give you something to help improve your natural chest,“ she offers.
“Uh, no thanks. That sounds uncomfortable.”
“No point in making you uncomfortable, dear. If you’re happy, then follow me to meet my brother.”
I step to follow her, trying hard not to catch the dress on my still rather unclean boots. The air feels thick, like I’m pushing people out of the way.