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The dressing room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of vanity bulbs that cast a golden hue across the polished floor. Estella sat with her eyes closed as a stylist carefully swept eyeshadow across her lids, the brush gentle but deliberate. Around her, the buzz of preparation was thick in the air.
Iphigenia stood nearby, arms folded and chin lifted, overseeing everything like a queen commanding her court. "Head up high, your hands should never be off your lap. And posture—very important. Strength and femininity." Her voice cut through the soft hum of chatter and clicking brushes, proud and sharp. Beside her stood Poppy and his team of craftsmen, quietly working, attentive to every detail of Estella's appearance.
Despite the compliments and bustle, Poppy could feel the heaviness in Estella's silence. She smiled obediently for Iphigenia's praise, but it was a practiced smile, distant and dulled at the edges. When the final touches were in place, Iphigenia beamed, stepping back.
"Thank you, Iphigenia. Estella, you can open your eyes now," Poppy said gently.
Estella's lashes fluttered open, and even she was momentarily stunned by the reflection staring back at her. Her arms had been stenciled in shimmering designs, and her hair, parted elegantly to the side, fell in long, soft curls that framed her shoulders and flowed down to her hips. Her makeup was subtle, delicate enough to enhance her features without masking her natural beauty—the kind that couldn't be bought or sculpted, only admired.
She wore a tight, soft-pink dress that hugged her figure, ending at her upper thigh to show off her long, graceful legs. The gown trailed behind her in a flowing cascade of glittering flowers and delicate sparkles that caught the light with every movement. Laced heels wrapped around her calves in thin, sensual strings, drawing the eye upwards with every step.
She wasn't just pretty, nor even merely beautiful. She was radiant—an entity so captivating that it felt like the air shifted around her, demanding attention, obedience, awe. Every eye would be drawn to her, whether they wished it or not.
"Well, there you are. A diamond," Poppy said with reverence, beaming at his creation. His team squealed with delight, unable to contain their pride, while Estella sat silently, too overwhelmed to speak. She wasn't silent because of vanity or awe; no, it was the weight of what this transformation represented.
Tomorrow was no longer a distant threat. It was hours away. Poppy sensed it. "Give us a moment, all right?" he asked softly. The stylists reluctantly filtered out, Iphigenia huffing with disappointment as she cast one more longing glance at Estella before following the others.
Now alone, Poppy studied her carefully. Estella kept her eyes locked on her reflection, but her stillness spoke volumes. Her fingers curled slightly in her lap, her breath shallow. Poppy's voice was soft. "You look like—" / "Like the girl I was meant to be?" Estella interrupted, finishing his sentence with a bitter, amused edge. He tried to keep the mood light, offering her a playful smile.
