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INT— ANOTHER GODDAMNED HOTEL.
SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA— MORNING.
SCENE III.
There was a layer of symbolism that I wasn't privy to.
It started early, when I got dressed for the occasion. There were murmurs in Korean, specific instructions I came to figure through observing them as they pampered and prepped me. A few faces I recognised as the same ones that helped me back in Paris, which went to show that they were under Kristoff's employment the first time.
They left the nails I had done, complimenting my 'pretty choice', before they set out the colours for my face and the style they wanted to do for my hair.
The choices became obvious as a brunt of specific requests. And I felt like a detective, twinning a red yarn to dot every facet I found matched my theory, especially as they talked amongst themselves after every item they placed against my skin to see if it matched well with their 'vision', shaking their heads at my input when it went against it.
The makeup, though kept in the "eu natural" where there were no stark choice colours, kept neutral with a sharp eyeliner, a smokey eye gaze that drooped and slanted like a fox's— they added a beauty mark on the apple of my right cheek.
Then my dress; it was white again, insert snort here, and though was pretty in its short, above the knee length design that flowed and fluttered behind me in different lengths like petals closing in on a flower, the halter top, even the exposed back, brought a specific era to mind.
It sparkled like a pearl under bursts of light in sequences and glass baubles, soundful in a few movements, and partnered with my hair parted to the side, brought a slight curl at the front that cascaded in ringlets to frame my face—
It then hit my like a fucking truck why I looked classic. Timeless.
There was an old Hollywood glamour era touch to every detail. From the little beauty mark to the fur-lined coat Archie draped over my arms as we left the hotel.
It wasn't just an era I was recreating, but a person.
When I nestled in the seat next to Archie, the car moving to the dinner painstakingly perfected to the very last detail as the scenic place for my proposal, I gave it five minutes before I quietly asked, hands clasped daintily above my lap, lips flattened and curved just at the very edges.
