#patriarchical

[asyoulikeitnow]

Woman does not emerge from a man's rib, not ever, it's he who emerges from her womb.

Nizar Qabbani, (male) Syrian poet

[dandylionsden]

@patriarchical

nealie takes a moment to admire his broad back. he's turned from her, staring at some piece of abstract expression. there are others milling about, making profound statements in hushed voices, and amidst it all, sebastian seems an anchor. his comfort here seems effortless. hers will too, in a different sort of way— not because she's ever belonged here, but because she learned long ago, she's not.

to the naked eye, though, it would be hard to tell. her black gown is simple, the cut flattering her figure, but elegantly surrendering attention to the pieces of art around her. only enough to appear humble, of course. her mother's pearl earrings peek from within gently curled, amber locks. here, apart from her family, she's no longer concerned with wearing this uniform correctly. here, this beauty is hers, and the glow of freedom brightens her eyes beyond their normal mischief.

there's no telling what's about to happen. either this will be a wonderful delight or the amount of effort she's spent into appearing in this man's life, uninvited, will only result in yet again, a failure to properly engage in polite society. so be it. nothing new there.

"psst. mister shepard?" her hands held behind her back, the dance of freckles across her collarbones matches her mirthful bounce in place as he turns to her.

"i hope you don't mind me showing up here. this gallery of yours sounded interesting, and you know i've never been great at..." will he be proud of her for choosing her words carefully? "...quelling my curiosity."