GENEVIEVE'S EYES LINGER ON the dress in the mirror, the silk falling down the slope of her frame like dark water, the price tag — blissfully irrelevant to her — well over the average person’s rent. her features, elegantly severe and paused in a suspended state of appraisal, shift into a pleased determination. “ this is the one, it’s perfect, ” decisive. eyes flicking to emelia’s reflection in the mirror, reminded that she had taken someone along, “ what do you think ? ” her mind already made up, the question existed as much as an offering as dragging emilia along with her was, a coy attempt at bridge building.
while others adonis may have their qualms about emilia, gen, though not unwilling to judge freely, saw no use in writing her off. emilia was intelligent and competent, gen’s preferred virtues, and as their lives seemed to be untangling at the seams with marcel missing endearing herself to a potential ally seemed a worthwhile afternoon to pencil in. so, here they were, gen’s promise of a pleasant afternoon wandering through the town and running a few errands ( an offer gen simply wouldn’t let emilia refuse ) led them straight to dress shopping for the banquet.
the boutique, sun drenched from the large historic windows and perfumed faintly with sandalwood and rose, was one that existed on the island for wealthy tourists and students who passed through, not truly for anyone that lived there. for gen it seemed just as good of a place to network as any, and of course, shopping a favourite vice. genevieve, turning to emilia with her most charming, haven’t we always been the dearest of friends, smile in place “ could you pass me my bag ? i think i’ll send gemma a photo. ”
( @saxifraged )