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i'm getting tired even for a phoenix always rising from the ashes
°• ♔ •°
Celeste closed her eyes, alone with only the company of her heartbeat.
She sat on the floor at the foot of her bed, crushing the skirts of her wedding dress beneath her. She would face her mother's hysteria about the wrinkles later.
If it were for any other occasion, Celeste would've loved the dress. But for this reason, she felt the strongest urge to chuck it into the fireplace and set a thousand curses upon it.
It was a mass of black and gold. The bodice was generously low and fitted tight against her figure, but it still managed to look elegant. The sleeves were restricting and tight, but past her hips, the skirt flared and trained several meters behind her. The front was entirely bare of detailing, but the backside was a magnificent masterpiece of heartbreak and joy. Golden threads, gleaming metals, and shining jewels were artfully arranged into impressive patterns of sunbursts, streaking stars, and glistering constellations. She had become a midnight goddess of the heavens and the universe itself.
Any muggle would've have passed her for a queen.
Suddenly, the door was flung wide, and in marched the cavalry.
"Celeste," Mrs. Malfoy gasped, horrified. "Up! Get up!" She marched over to her daughter and helped hoist her up. "What's the matter? Why are you on the ground? I― Oh honestly, Celeste. Please have a bit more care for your dress. I know you know how important this is ― for everyone."
Celeste frowned, shrugging off her mother's arm. "Mother, it's fine."
"Fine?" her mother cried incredulously. "Please have a bit more concern, Celeste. There's only an hour left. Now hurry into the chair. Your hair looks like a bird's nest."
Wordlessly, Celeste moved across the room and sat in front of her vanity. She watched in the smooth mirror as her mother arranged her dark tresses back, pinned down with a golden diadem. In order to show off the back of her gown, the rest of her hair was intricately braided and pinned up into a regal updo. She sat in agony, counting down every second as her mother continued to dust cosmetics across her wan face.
Mrs. Malfoy finally set down the brushes. "There," she said, quietly.
Celeste looked up. Her lips and cheeks were flushed with life and a subtle shimmer highlighted the highest points of her face, enhancing her cheekbones. It made her look older. Any sort of tired dullness was concealed and erased. Her eyes had somehow become brighter, and were enhanced by some strange color.
