FIC: All Dressed Up & Cotillion (SP)
Title: All Dressed Up
Prompt: 12. True Colors
Word Count: 1181
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original - Streetlight People 'verse
Pairings (if any): none
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): none
Summary: It's Hilla's last effort to usurp Kilce but she never counted on Pliya being such a good friend.
Kilce had thought there was only one initiation rite. That might have been true for some people, but not the girl that Hilla had taken an instant dislike towards. She was looking for any and every weakness that Kilce might have and, when one looks for them, weaknesses are frighteningly easy to find.
The problem was that she was looking in all the wrong places. Hilla, like any pretty, popular girl, expected every other girl to want to be pretty and popular so she went after those points first. Within the first few days, she had everyone glaring at Kilce whenever she walked in the room. Most glares wilted to pointed curiosity whenever Pliya was with her. Since the two girls were always together, that didn't work as well as Hilla would have liked. Kilce, being charitable for the first time in her life, had to give the girl credit for her creativity, though.
The hair incident should have taken care of the pretty but it only made her more intriguing. People, especially those not of the Yuna Ja, wanted to touch it or, in the case of some rather nasty little boys, pull on it to make sure it wasn't a wig. In that one day, she had gone from a normal girl with a bad hair cut that often got lost in the crowd to something of a celebrity.
"We're going to have a cotillion," Hilla announced, completely out of the blue, during a hall meeting. Her smile had morphed from malicious over the last week to something almost maniacal. Nothing she was doing was working and she was about to crack. This, Kilce realized, would be the last effort that she would be able to make. This was taking everything from her that fueled this hatred. Whatever a cotillion was, it would be the end.
When Pliya explained the meaning of the word, Kilce wondered if she shouldn't just disappear now and let the girl win. She'd never been to a formal dance before and had never, ever dressed in anything like what Pliya had pulled out of the closet. It had ruffles. And no sleeves. The material looked like it might rip if it was pulled with any sort of tension. It couldn't be safe to wear it.
"No. No, I'm not going to wear that. I'm not. You can't make me. No. Not going to do it." She was backing away but the bed was suddenly in her way. When she fell back on it, she continued to move across it until she had only the wall keeping her from getting any further away. Pliya, noticing a panic attack when she saw on, quickly put the dress back in the closet. It wasn't far enough away for Kilce's comfort because there was still a bit of fancy red fabric peeking through the other more subdued clothing. Even confined back among the clothing, it taunted her.
Pliya's expression softened, which only served to make Kilce grimace in an entirely different way when she saw it. "Quit. Quit feeling sorry for the poor girl. My clothes are perfectly acceptable."
"They are acceptable, yes. Don't you want to try something new? Something different? Highlight that new hair color of yours, maybe?"
A piece of the offending hair fell over her eyes. It was like her armor these day, fortifying her against any attack that Hilla might send at her. Was it strong enough to keep her obvious discomfort at bay? Could she use the armor against her own subconscious?
"What do you have in mind?"
Her smile said Good girl even though she knew better than to say anything. "Something with a bit more cloth. You obviously don't like having to showcase your body so we'll keep it loose and flowing. Sophisticated."
"I'm not sophisticated. I'm the opposite of sophisticated." Kilce thought about it for the moment. "I'm rugged."
That made Pliya giggle. "Rugged? That's the best you can do?"
But she had given her approval to the plan and Pliya knew better than to let her back out. Within the hour, they were stepping into the carriage that the rich girl had called for. It was a short trip to the store she had in mind and Pliya made sure to keep a firm hold on Kilce's arm as they stepped through the door made of smoked glass and twisted metal.
A row of frozen body forms lined up in front of the door, intended to capture the interest of anyone wanting to purchase something and scare away anyone not meant to be there. Kilce felt like the latter even though Pliya insisted they were the former. The same dress clothed each of the bodies, showcasing the different colors of fabric that could be used. While Kilce was still entranced by the body parts left uncovered by this particular dress, Pliya already had a hand wrapped in one of the swaths of silk.
"This one. You need to be clothed in this color."
The blue fabric was a lighter shade of the same cobalt that Kilce had used on her hair but it had a shimmering quality that made it appear as if she was holding water. There were streaks of diamond and deeper midnight mixed in, woven through by light and movement.
"But sleeves," Kilce cautioned as she touched the cold shoulder of the form wearing the hyacinth pink dress. She'd never shown this much of her body before. Not even when she washed in the shower. As many times as Pliya assured her that the lock on the door would keep out anyone, she always stayed prepared to run from any danger. Even at the elite school, the threat always hung over her head that she might need to leave in a hurry.
As if following her train of thought exactly, Pliya dropped the fabric to pull Kilce into a loose hug. "Sleeves. And I think we'll have a ragged hem that will drop past your knees but still look as if it's more daring because of the way it'll sway. Can I put an accent on the waist?"
"Waist?" She swallowed back a moan as Pliya pointed to the part of the anatomy on the dress form. "Does it have to be that tight?"
"Yes. But if we put an accent there, no one will be looking at your body. They'll be looking at the gorgeous bunch of tea roses we'll attach... just there, I think."
"Roses?" Kilce screeched but was interrupted by the entrance of a team of white-smocked people, all with slicked back hair and narrowed expressions, noticing everything all at once. Noticing her baggy clothing and strangely cut and colored hair. Noticing her fear. She could see them scenting it like hungry dogs.
With a flick of her wrist and a tilt of her head, Pliya had their attention firmly back on the task at hand. As she explained what she wanted and when, Kilce reached out and fingered the pink fabric as if memorizing it. This dream was sure to explode before anything good happened. It always did.
Title: Cotillion
Prompt: 02. Snow
Word Count: 1113
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original - Streetlight People 'verse
Pairings (if any): none
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): none
Summary: Hilla finds out just hard it is to go up against a united front.
Two girls, one in snow white and the other in pale blue, walked through the door. Kilce barely knew herself. She hadn't let Pliya do anything to her hair but brush it out and then twist it up on top of her head so that a few tendrils drifted around her face and neck. Still, it was enough of a change that she barely recognized herself. If she was honest, she was every bit as beautiful as Pliya.
Everyone else in the room appeared to think the same thing. In an uncharacteristic show of strength, Kilce had let herself be talked into arriving late. It would set Hilla on edge when she didn't show up with the other people. She was well known for showing up early to any gathering so everyone would be assuming she would continue to follow that trend. It was a tactical error, on their part, not to notice that she wouldn't do what was expected of her in this last-ditch effort for power and placement.
Kilce's smile stayed in place, just as they'd practiced, even though every single person was looking in their direction. One or two of the girls from their hall had smiles on their face, varying between happy to see her and irritated. Everyone else just looked stunned.
"I don't think they were expecting this," she commented out of the side of her mouth to Pliya. When she looked over, the other girl looked like a snow queen, her diamond white dress highlighting her dark hair and eyes. For this display of beauty, she'd left the wire contraption holding two circular pieces of glass (spectacles, she called them) behind in the room. She hadn't thought they went with the image they were trying to portray but Kilce felt she was looking at a stranger. An ice-cold queen reigning over her subjects.
What did the others see when they saw Kilce? Were they impressed? Were they as confused as she was? She didn't dare dwell on those thoughts, though. She had a job to do and Hilla was walking toward them, her blood red dress made of so little fabric that Kilce was embarrassed for her because it was clear that she wasn't deterred by the lack of covering in the least.
"How lovely you could show up. And such lovely dresses."
"Yes, we're intending to have a lovely time," Pliya answered, emphasizing the word that Hilla kept repeating. "That's a lovely color on you, Hil."
It was a genuine compliment and Hilla took it as one. "Thank you. My mother made it. She's a famous designer, you know. Who made your outfits? Were they hand-me-downs?"
As if on cue, Kilce twirled around so that the skirt of the dress flared out into a ripple of blue water. She knew it showed off more of her legs than she was comfortable showing but she didn't care for the moment. When she stopped, it continued it's course until gravity forced it back against her skin. "This is a one of a kind Dorinda design. Have you heard of her?"
It was an honest question because Kilce never had. When she'd been introduced to the lady, she'd noticed the reverence that everyone, including Pliya, had used toward her but she hadn't paid it much mind. She'd taken the lady's extended hand in her own grasp as she would have with anyone else. There was a small gasp from some of the onlookers as she asked Dorinda what it was that she did.
And now, she watched as Hilla's face went from normal coloring to bone-pale in a matter of seconds. "Dorinda?"
"She's a special friend of my father's." Pliya stepped forward, making herself known for the first time in this conversation. She was, indeed, an ice queen. Her smile was frosty where normally it was warm and inviting. If this ended the strained emotions among the Yuna Ja, she was willing to put on a performance that would ensure that it was resolved in her favor. She was her father's daughter, after all, no matter how much she preferred to think she was different.
"Of course. How silly of me to forget." There was something broken in Hilla's expression. Her words drifted out of her mouth instead of being spit out in a staccato. When she lifted a hand to indicate the rest of the room, it looked as if she could barely keep it aloft. "Enjoy yourself this evening. The music should be starting soon."
With one last, rueful smile, she blended back into the crowd and Kilce didn't see her for the rest of the evening.
It was an invitation for others to mob them so that they barely were able to say a word to each other for several hours as they were twirled about the floor or engaged in conversation. No one seemed to notice Kilce's hair or, if they did, no one wanted to touch it. The hair style kept it out of everyone's reach which, in turn, kept her a bit out of reach, as well. She didn't want to be the new leader of the pack, though. Kilce just wanted to be happy. That was all she ever wanted.
When people attempted to get her opinion on things, a clear sign they were searching to emulate her, she suggested they ask Pliya. She was the mastermind behind their win and, if Kilce was honest, behind these last few weeks in general. There was no way that Kilce would have stayed at school without Pliya's help in adjusting. And it had all been done magic-free, for which Kilce was grateful. It felt more organic to be here without magic since no one else used it.
At that moment, there was flicker of it at the corner of her awareness. She turned her head but it was impossible to tell who it might be that was suddenly doing a sweep of the crowd, looking for... looking for what? She sent a quest out herself but she couldn't tell what it had been trying to find. Her, perhaps? Was someone searching for her? Was she in danger? Or, worse still, was she a danger to the rest of the group?
The fear made her knees rattle together so that she begged off the next dance. Instead, she went searching for Pliya. "I want to leave now."
"Has someone been mean to you?"
She shook her head but this was not the place to be admitting anything. "I want to leave," she repeated, pulling at the roses at her waist. She no longer wanted anyone to notice her or what she was wearing. She was done with being in the limelight.
This entry was cross posted at dreamwidth - where the cool kids hang out.
Prompt: 12. True Colors
Word Count: 1181
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original - Streetlight People 'verse
Pairings (if any): none
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): none
Summary: It's Hilla's last effort to usurp Kilce but she never counted on Pliya being such a good friend.
Kilce had thought there was only one initiation rite. That might have been true for some people, but not the girl that Hilla had taken an instant dislike towards. She was looking for any and every weakness that Kilce might have and, when one looks for them, weaknesses are frighteningly easy to find.
The problem was that she was looking in all the wrong places. Hilla, like any pretty, popular girl, expected every other girl to want to be pretty and popular so she went after those points first. Within the first few days, she had everyone glaring at Kilce whenever she walked in the room. Most glares wilted to pointed curiosity whenever Pliya was with her. Since the two girls were always together, that didn't work as well as Hilla would have liked. Kilce, being charitable for the first time in her life, had to give the girl credit for her creativity, though.
The hair incident should have taken care of the pretty but it only made her more intriguing. People, especially those not of the Yuna Ja, wanted to touch it or, in the case of some rather nasty little boys, pull on it to make sure it wasn't a wig. In that one day, she had gone from a normal girl with a bad hair cut that often got lost in the crowd to something of a celebrity.
"We're going to have a cotillion," Hilla announced, completely out of the blue, during a hall meeting. Her smile had morphed from malicious over the last week to something almost maniacal. Nothing she was doing was working and she was about to crack. This, Kilce realized, would be the last effort that she would be able to make. This was taking everything from her that fueled this hatred. Whatever a cotillion was, it would be the end.
When Pliya explained the meaning of the word, Kilce wondered if she shouldn't just disappear now and let the girl win. She'd never been to a formal dance before and had never, ever dressed in anything like what Pliya had pulled out of the closet. It had ruffles. And no sleeves. The material looked like it might rip if it was pulled with any sort of tension. It couldn't be safe to wear it.
"No. No, I'm not going to wear that. I'm not. You can't make me. No. Not going to do it." She was backing away but the bed was suddenly in her way. When she fell back on it, she continued to move across it until she had only the wall keeping her from getting any further away. Pliya, noticing a panic attack when she saw on, quickly put the dress back in the closet. It wasn't far enough away for Kilce's comfort because there was still a bit of fancy red fabric peeking through the other more subdued clothing. Even confined back among the clothing, it taunted her.
Pliya's expression softened, which only served to make Kilce grimace in an entirely different way when she saw it. "Quit. Quit feeling sorry for the poor girl. My clothes are perfectly acceptable."
"They are acceptable, yes. Don't you want to try something new? Something different? Highlight that new hair color of yours, maybe?"
A piece of the offending hair fell over her eyes. It was like her armor these day, fortifying her against any attack that Hilla might send at her. Was it strong enough to keep her obvious discomfort at bay? Could she use the armor against her own subconscious?
"What do you have in mind?"
Her smile said Good girl even though she knew better than to say anything. "Something with a bit more cloth. You obviously don't like having to showcase your body so we'll keep it loose and flowing. Sophisticated."
"I'm not sophisticated. I'm the opposite of sophisticated." Kilce thought about it for the moment. "I'm rugged."
That made Pliya giggle. "Rugged? That's the best you can do?"
But she had given her approval to the plan and Pliya knew better than to let her back out. Within the hour, they were stepping into the carriage that the rich girl had called for. It was a short trip to the store she had in mind and Pliya made sure to keep a firm hold on Kilce's arm as they stepped through the door made of smoked glass and twisted metal.
A row of frozen body forms lined up in front of the door, intended to capture the interest of anyone wanting to purchase something and scare away anyone not meant to be there. Kilce felt like the latter even though Pliya insisted they were the former. The same dress clothed each of the bodies, showcasing the different colors of fabric that could be used. While Kilce was still entranced by the body parts left uncovered by this particular dress, Pliya already had a hand wrapped in one of the swaths of silk.
"This one. You need to be clothed in this color."
The blue fabric was a lighter shade of the same cobalt that Kilce had used on her hair but it had a shimmering quality that made it appear as if she was holding water. There were streaks of diamond and deeper midnight mixed in, woven through by light and movement.
"But sleeves," Kilce cautioned as she touched the cold shoulder of the form wearing the hyacinth pink dress. She'd never shown this much of her body before. Not even when she washed in the shower. As many times as Pliya assured her that the lock on the door would keep out anyone, she always stayed prepared to run from any danger. Even at the elite school, the threat always hung over her head that she might need to leave in a hurry.
As if following her train of thought exactly, Pliya dropped the fabric to pull Kilce into a loose hug. "Sleeves. And I think we'll have a ragged hem that will drop past your knees but still look as if it's more daring because of the way it'll sway. Can I put an accent on the waist?"
"Waist?" She swallowed back a moan as Pliya pointed to the part of the anatomy on the dress form. "Does it have to be that tight?"
"Yes. But if we put an accent there, no one will be looking at your body. They'll be looking at the gorgeous bunch of tea roses we'll attach... just there, I think."
"Roses?" Kilce screeched but was interrupted by the entrance of a team of white-smocked people, all with slicked back hair and narrowed expressions, noticing everything all at once. Noticing her baggy clothing and strangely cut and colored hair. Noticing her fear. She could see them scenting it like hungry dogs.
With a flick of her wrist and a tilt of her head, Pliya had their attention firmly back on the task at hand. As she explained what she wanted and when, Kilce reached out and fingered the pink fabric as if memorizing it. This dream was sure to explode before anything good happened. It always did.
Title: Cotillion
Prompt: 02. Snow
Word Count: 1113
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original - Streetlight People 'verse
Pairings (if any): none
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): none
Summary: Hilla finds out just hard it is to go up against a united front.
Two girls, one in snow white and the other in pale blue, walked through the door. Kilce barely knew herself. She hadn't let Pliya do anything to her hair but brush it out and then twist it up on top of her head so that a few tendrils drifted around her face and neck. Still, it was enough of a change that she barely recognized herself. If she was honest, she was every bit as beautiful as Pliya.
Everyone else in the room appeared to think the same thing. In an uncharacteristic show of strength, Kilce had let herself be talked into arriving late. It would set Hilla on edge when she didn't show up with the other people. She was well known for showing up early to any gathering so everyone would be assuming she would continue to follow that trend. It was a tactical error, on their part, not to notice that she wouldn't do what was expected of her in this last-ditch effort for power and placement.
Kilce's smile stayed in place, just as they'd practiced, even though every single person was looking in their direction. One or two of the girls from their hall had smiles on their face, varying between happy to see her and irritated. Everyone else just looked stunned.
"I don't think they were expecting this," she commented out of the side of her mouth to Pliya. When she looked over, the other girl looked like a snow queen, her diamond white dress highlighting her dark hair and eyes. For this display of beauty, she'd left the wire contraption holding two circular pieces of glass (spectacles, she called them) behind in the room. She hadn't thought they went with the image they were trying to portray but Kilce felt she was looking at a stranger. An ice-cold queen reigning over her subjects.
What did the others see when they saw Kilce? Were they impressed? Were they as confused as she was? She didn't dare dwell on those thoughts, though. She had a job to do and Hilla was walking toward them, her blood red dress made of so little fabric that Kilce was embarrassed for her because it was clear that she wasn't deterred by the lack of covering in the least.
"How lovely you could show up. And such lovely dresses."
"Yes, we're intending to have a lovely time," Pliya answered, emphasizing the word that Hilla kept repeating. "That's a lovely color on you, Hil."
It was a genuine compliment and Hilla took it as one. "Thank you. My mother made it. She's a famous designer, you know. Who made your outfits? Were they hand-me-downs?"
As if on cue, Kilce twirled around so that the skirt of the dress flared out into a ripple of blue water. She knew it showed off more of her legs than she was comfortable showing but she didn't care for the moment. When she stopped, it continued it's course until gravity forced it back against her skin. "This is a one of a kind Dorinda design. Have you heard of her?"
It was an honest question because Kilce never had. When she'd been introduced to the lady, she'd noticed the reverence that everyone, including Pliya, had used toward her but she hadn't paid it much mind. She'd taken the lady's extended hand in her own grasp as she would have with anyone else. There was a small gasp from some of the onlookers as she asked Dorinda what it was that she did.
And now, she watched as Hilla's face went from normal coloring to bone-pale in a matter of seconds. "Dorinda?"
"She's a special friend of my father's." Pliya stepped forward, making herself known for the first time in this conversation. She was, indeed, an ice queen. Her smile was frosty where normally it was warm and inviting. If this ended the strained emotions among the Yuna Ja, she was willing to put on a performance that would ensure that it was resolved in her favor. She was her father's daughter, after all, no matter how much she preferred to think she was different.
"Of course. How silly of me to forget." There was something broken in Hilla's expression. Her words drifted out of her mouth instead of being spit out in a staccato. When she lifted a hand to indicate the rest of the room, it looked as if she could barely keep it aloft. "Enjoy yourself this evening. The music should be starting soon."
With one last, rueful smile, she blended back into the crowd and Kilce didn't see her for the rest of the evening.
It was an invitation for others to mob them so that they barely were able to say a word to each other for several hours as they were twirled about the floor or engaged in conversation. No one seemed to notice Kilce's hair or, if they did, no one wanted to touch it. The hair style kept it out of everyone's reach which, in turn, kept her a bit out of reach, as well. She didn't want to be the new leader of the pack, though. Kilce just wanted to be happy. That was all she ever wanted.
When people attempted to get her opinion on things, a clear sign they were searching to emulate her, she suggested they ask Pliya. She was the mastermind behind their win and, if Kilce was honest, behind these last few weeks in general. There was no way that Kilce would have stayed at school without Pliya's help in adjusting. And it had all been done magic-free, for which Kilce was grateful. It felt more organic to be here without magic since no one else used it.
At that moment, there was flicker of it at the corner of her awareness. She turned her head but it was impossible to tell who it might be that was suddenly doing a sweep of the crowd, looking for... looking for what? She sent a quest out herself but she couldn't tell what it had been trying to find. Her, perhaps? Was someone searching for her? Was she in danger? Or, worse still, was she a danger to the rest of the group?
The fear made her knees rattle together so that she begged off the next dance. Instead, she went searching for Pliya. "I want to leave now."
"Has someone been mean to you?"
She shook her head but this was not the place to be admitting anything. "I want to leave," she repeated, pulling at the roses at her waist. She no longer wanted anyone to notice her or what she was wearing. She was done with being in the limelight.
This entry was cross posted at dreamwidth - where the cool kids hang out.