the writers fault

The First Appearance

Today began with a splendid sight of captivating young women whose voices rang out loudly, proclaiming them "the most beautiful creatures in the universe."But what is the story behind white ribboned hair? Today, including myself, everyone had their hair adorned with wrapped strands of white fabric! People often wear uniform attire, but not uniform hairstyles!.

Despite spending last night stealthily stealing bits and pieces here and there after receiving my private invitation to the party from Winfred, saying that Ms. Margaret did not want to speak with me anymore, I don't care about Margaret, but I thank God that I hadn't any dark circles, all for the success of the plan and the meeting between Gerald and Nairobi!.

Breakfast was a scene of great solidarity over this terrible hairstyle, but everyone was excited about the winter ball. The atmosphere was truly bright with lots of conversations, laughter, and dynamic plans being woven to secure invitations to the parties of noble families. If luck was on their side, they might even get a ring in their finger.

Another wonderful thing that happened this morning was that the rumor war finally ended, so I was very happy with this festive atmosphere.

Everything was perfect except for the pain born from the fabrics that pulled at my hair. I tried hard to loosen the bindings with my hands, but Nairobi's hawk-like eyes always caught me. The last time I attempted, she struck my hand, the echo of the blow reverberating through the room, causing everyone to turn towards us in stunned silence.

I quickly tried to lighten the mood with a gentle laugh, saying, "Was there a mosquito on my hand? Thank you, dear Nairobi, for I certainly wouldn't want a bite mark on my hand this evening."

But she froze, fear glinting in her eyes. I pull her white apron slightly to catch her attention, her face contorting with strange expressions as she struggled to find an impromptu response, her voice shaky:

"Oh, of course, Miss Mikkelsen, that mosquito... it would have caused you a terrible itch and a nasty bump on your hand. Such a thing... I couldn't accept that for my lady, especially at the royal winter ball."

She uttered the last words while nodding with a smile, trying to believe the nonsense spilling from her lips; she, who wouldn't care if a wasp stung me in the middle of my forehead. Yet her words were enough to restore the chatter and clinking of silverware in the dining hall. I heard her sigh deeply, rolling her eyes as she did.

I pressed my lips together to stifle a laugh that might spell my end, as Winifred glared at Nairobi with her usual fury. Their skirmishes had become like the nightly serenades of cats outside my window, a familiar refrain. The heated argument between Eira, Freya, and Anya pulled me from my reverie. Anya declared:

"I haven't given up, alright! It's just that if I'd given someone else the attention I give to Vlader, I might already be wearing a ring before any of you."

Eira retorted with sarcasm,

"Oh really? You say that, but when Vlader appears out of nowhere, your heart stops listening to your mind, and you start wagging your tail, hoping he'll notice you by chance. What I want from you, you fool, is courage. When we see him today, go talk to him!"

"You don't understand..."

Anya's voice dropped to a whisper, then she sighed helplessly and continued,

"I can't approach him. It's been a whole year of sending signals with my eyes, my body, even those cursed fans, and nothing... nothing catches his eye. Maybe he doesn't find me beautiful."

I nearly dropped my bite of food in disbelief at Anya's last words. If Anya thought she wasn't beautiful, what hope did I have? Anger welled up in me as the nymph beside me claimed there was a man who couldn't see Anya's beauty, while I foolishly anticipated the day, knowing full well I'd be nothing more than a wallflower.