#(poor magda)

[wosocharleeeeess]

i give you… chelsea’s chelsea memes

[the-dimitrescu-seamstress]

❛ come on. it can’t be that bad. ❜

"Oh, it can't be? Clearly you don't understand how particular the Countess is about her wardrobe. True, she may be living in the middle of no where and hasn't seen the outside of this village probably since the 1950's, but she won't dare pass up the opportunity to look like she goes to a gala every night. And what do we have here?” Magda asked, pointing to the large roll of fabric that, to the untrained eye, looked pretty much the same color as the material of Alcina’s current dresses... maybe a few shades off.

“It’s the wrong dye batch! I order a hundred yards, because the shipping is atrocious otherwise, and not only does it take two months for it to arrive, but it’s a soft peach instead of an antique off-white. So yes, it is very much bad. And before you offer the option? No, I’m not dyeing the fabric. It’s an exceedingly precise process, and the fabric is already too dark, so... no luck there,” she fumed. Why was her life like this some days?

[the-dimitrescu-seamstress]

Talking Shop, Cont’d

Continued from here, @mother-mirandas-seamstres

The pain… it… there a was a delay. Magda never thought Mother Miranda could move so fast nor that her jewelry covered fingers could be so sharp. And yet… the warm, sticky, wetness was felt a few seconds before the sharp, burning pain. She didn’t remember if she screamed or yelled out in pain, though she probably did. Her face burned. She could see, but barely. Blood covered her face. The pain made her shut her eyes, which only made her face hurt more.

She collapsed. The marble felt cool on her cheek… the one that wasn’t flayed open. Why? She should have kept quiet. She should have let the girl go with Mother Miranda. Maybe if she was lucky, Alcina would come by, see the mess laid before her, and simply fix the situation by ending her life.

Magda heard a voice a few minutes later. A crying, tear-filled voice that wondered why she did what she did. Honestly, Magda didn’t know. Even if she did, she couldn’t answer. She didn’t dare speak and risk tearing her face more. So instead, she just laid there as darkness pulled her under.