Reverence - Book 2

- 10 -

"Kitsami?" 

I chuffed. 

"No, you bimbo. Kintsugi" 

"What in the fuck is that?" 

I folded my hands in my lap, smiling softly to myself. 

"It's a Japanese artform,  the mending of broken pottery by the fusion of gold. It's something about the beauty in the togetherness, I suppose." 

Yanyah forced a gag, rolling her eyes at me. 

"Barf, why are you so philosophical all the god fearing time." 

Our shoulders bobbed together carefully from the gentle bustle of the taxi cab. Yanyah lined her pillow lips in a rich ruby, pursing at her reflection vainly. 

We were heading to the bountiful Jardin Des Plantes in the warming Paris morning. Yanyah had seduced her way into front row seats of the Balmain spring collection debut and I had been begrudgingly drug along. 

My fingers carefully coddled my lips, self consciously shielding the waxing scar. It wasn't as noticeable as I had first thought, but it was still there, a mottled pink and white that pulled too tightly over my skin. The one across my chest was another story. I settled my chin against the high neck of my black dress. 

My pale hair was slicked stylishly down, and my lips were painted a sheened mod. Yanyah, a true red scare, was draped in ruby fringe and diamonds, sparkling eyes kohl rimmed and teeth wicked white and sharp. Her gold hair coiled down her back in rich waves, and was pinned demure to the side. 

"seksual'naya zhenshchina."

She purred, with a giggle. 

I rolled my eyes, glancing out the blurring window. 

I listened to Yanyah coo at herself, the dread pooling within my stomach growing with every kilometer passing. 

The world seemed so wide now. And terrifying. I lived in a home of shattered glass, my acrid blood dried on the hard floors, soaked into my rug. In the blots, I saw my life unfurling just like those dark crimson blooms. 

"Jesus Christ we're here!" 

She squealed, gripping my thigh excitedly. I huddled a 100 Euro into our cabbies saddle bag and a quick Merci and we ducked from the cab. 

We stood in front of the ornate gates of the Jardin  and watched the quiet lull of celebrities and debutants file up the grand stone steps. Yanyah's chest rose quickly, and I feared she may pass out. She gripped my hand tightly, smile splitting over her face. 

"Is that, Anna Wintour?!" 

She babbled, shoulder shaking with adrenaline. I held my hand to calm her now. 

"Composure." 

I whispered. 

We climbed the great stairs, handing tuxedoed doormen out credentials. Those wide gilded doors swung open for us and the stark smattering of conversation buzzed around us like exasperated bees. 

My hand was wrapped around Yanyah, partly in fear of her dashing away but mainly for the fact that they eyes of the room cascaded down us now, their gaze fixed on the blown out skin of my lips. 

damaged goods... 

My heart withered in my chest, and I felt utterly weightless. I felt the color of my face pool into my So Kate's and I leaned against Yanyah. 

"Yelena? Are you okay?" 

My head bobbled, and it felt like water was eclipsing over my ears. 

"I think I need to sit down."