The Elixir

~The Market

Never had Vieva ever imagined that she would be looking for a dress at a market. Every single piece of clothing in her closet is made by talented and nimble-fingered seamstresses, who know her coloring and her size.

Vieva gapes at everything she sees, letting herself be carried away by the sights and the smells. Father had always defined the markets an eyesore of Ruxnorth, but now, standing beneath the fairy lights, Vieva can't imagine why. It's on the ramshackle side but it's beautiful, in a rustic, plebian way.

"Admit it. You like it here." Xara says smugly.

Vieva doesn't bother looking at her. "And what if I do?"

Lysabel squeals. "Founders, this is beautiful," she sighs, draping a glittery dress over her whippet thin body. Vieva frowns. It's a burnt orange color, and completely clashes with Lysabel's flaxen hair. Even the mere thought of seeing that color on Lysabel is enough to make her want to vomit.

"You'll look hideous in that, Lys," admonishes Vieva, scrunching her nose up.

Lysabel's smile droops lightly. "But I like it!"

"If you want to dance with anyone, you will put that away," orders Vieva. Fashion comes naturally to her; with Eissa Bestel as your mother, it's practically in your genes.

"What do you suggest I wear, then?"

A smile carves it's way on Vieva's face; a genuine, excited smile. "Follow my lead."

Xara shakes her head, disparaged. "I'm going to go find some food. I'll meet you back here."

"Go ahead," says Vieva distractedly. The shop Lysabel had found the disgusting sequinned dress in did have some good options. Obviously, it would be much easier to dress Lysabel in one of Vieva's designer gowns, but Mother would have a fit. So Vieva scans the racks, scrutinizing each dress. The material is not very high quality, but the stitchwork on most are acceptable enough. The designs are painfully plain, but Vieva herself knows she can spruce it up.

"What about this?" Lysabel points to a seafoam green dress with an asymmetrical cut at the hem, and a sweetheart ruffled neckline. Vieva's hands ghost over the material, wincing. Lysabel sighs, head dropping into her hands.

"I'm hopeless, aren't I?"

Vieva smiles gently at her roommate, knocking her shoulder gently. "Kind of. Just trust me. I'll find you something amazing."

"What about Xara?"

Vieva snorts. "I'll get something for her too. Something tells me she won't care about helping me pick."

Lysabel giggles lightly. Then her eyes widen in delight. "Oh, look! Earrings." Lysabel half smiles at Vieva. "I'm going to go look. Hopefully, you'll have something for me when I come back."

"No promises!"

A chill briskly canters through the shop and Vieva regrets not wearing her extra jacket. The November cold bites, and being an Arcane, winter is her least favorite season. But fire always finds a way to burn.

But for the first time, Vieva has something to look forward to as winter sets in. The Midwinter Ball. It's the highlight event of the year, and the entire school attends. This is the first years' first true party, and Vieva's buzzing with excitement. She's been steadily studying for finals, so unlike the rest of the school, she's not worried about being launched into prep after the ball is over.

But the most important part?

Her mother had made her entrance into show business when she was only 3 years older than Vieva. From that moment, everyone had been curious about the new, beautiful girl. Who she was, what she was like, how much money she had. Three more years later, she'd caught the eye of a young Bestel aristocrat. Her father. And the rest is history.

Now it's Vieva's turn. This is her time to make her entrance, to prove to the world that she's not just her last name and her fortune. No, she's so much more than that.

She can imagine it in her mind. The party will be full, everyone decked out in their dresses and suits, when she enters. The doors will slam against the walls, demanding everyone's attention.

That's when she'll step into the room, resplendent in her dress. The skirt will cascade to the floor, and her eyes will be outlined with kohl to make her molten eyes stand out.

Unfortunately, however, none of that can happen until she finds the perfect dress. And as she pillages through the dresses, it becomes increasingly clear that she isn't going to find it here.

Vieva glances over the racks to where Lysabel talks to the saleswoman about a pendant with a large citrine stone inside. Vieva wants to run over there and demand the saleswoman to stop selling fake products, but she's not stupid. She's well aware of the fact that they can't get regular stone, and proper settings. These rip-offs are the best they can get.

One thing's for sure: she'll have to go home and raid her collection. If she really wants her imagined entrance, she'll need the assistance of her mother.

Vieva turns around, starting on the next row of clothing. Ugh. These are even worse than the rack she'd just viewed. She pushes dresses aside, a blur of bronze and blues and greens. Her hand hits something hard and square, and Vieva hisses, shaking out her wrist. She digs around the dresses and finds what she had stumbled upon.

It's a box.

A beautiful, ornate, wooden box. Vieva's breath catches. The craftsmanship is exquisite, with shining black wood and small depictions of white decorating the sides. On the top, there is an engraving. CR. Vieva frowns, then fiddles with the latch on the box.

How did something so beautiful end up in this place? It obviously isn't something the store is selling; no, anyone with common sense would know that this box is valuable. Vieva sneaks another glance and Lysabel and the lady, trying to decide whether to call her friend over or not.

She looks busy, Vieva thinks to herself. She won't mind. I'll just peek.

Vieva carefully, delicately, opens the clasp. It gives easily, and Vieva opens the box, frowning. There is a piece of paper, crinkled and mottled and yellowed by time. Vieva sets the box down gently, careful not to scratch it's paint. She unfolds the paper, and squints at the writing. It's written in an eloquent scrawl, typical of nobility in the past.

Sitting there is a detailed drawing of a goblet, with silvery, thick liquid flowing down the sides. Vieva's eyes widen as she roves over the paper. It's absolutely amazing, the detail of the drawing. But what is it?

And why does the handwriting look so familiar?

But Vieva's eyes are quickly drawn to the bottom, where a small note is written.

Your move.

W

>>AUTHOR'S NOTES:

this was more of a filler chapter, which is why it's so short! anyways, the more exciting news: ONLY 9 CHAPTERS LEFT AAAAHHH IM DYING

peace&love,

raniaditi