In a world where everything seems perfectly logical and pragmatic. The thought of anything existing outside of the realm of what one already knows seems impractical.
That is how Melinda Morrison sees life.
The very life where she has shared nearly e...
On the runway of life, onlookers watch with a mix of envy and admiration.
"I can't believe we're already leaving tomorrow morning. I just don't want this night to end!" Nuray sighed, wrapping her arms around her knees.
"I agree," Neriah added with a wistful smile, nibbling on a few more treats from our endless spread. "This has been such a lovely experience. I'm already regretting my return to Cluyze." She sighed, though her face softened as she took in the cozy warmth of our tent and the easy laughter filling it.
Tonight, after our final activities, we decided to have an impromptu spa and girls' night. The tent was filled with delicious drinks, snacks, and an array of pampering supplies—clay masks, sheet masks, nail polish, and everything in between. We lounged in our matching silk pajamas and robes, a few girls braiding each other's hair, others swaying to the tunes of new Vesnesian songs crackling through the phonograph. It was the perfect end to a week of adventure and connection, though bittersweet knowing we'd soon be back in the world of schedules and expectations.
"If only you could stay longer," Nuray said, pouting at Neriah's upcoming departure.
The princess giggled. "You'll have me for a little while yet—I'll be at Vesnesian Fashion Week, after all. But soon after, it's back to the Jalo for me."
At the mention of Fashion Week, the tent erupted into squeals and claps, everyone beaming at the thought.
"This is going to be so exciting! The city's never seen anything like this before!" Zibiah said, her face lighting up.
I smiled, feeling the buzz of anticipation spread through the group. "Yes, the whole city is preparing for it—there'll be events to showcase brands from Vesneau and even those from nearby nation-states. It's bound to be an interesting mix."
Ceres glanced up from a pamphlet on spa services she wanted to book before our departure. "I've heard Espos's fashion scene has really evolved in recent years. I can't wait to see what designs they bring to the runway."
One of the girls beamed with pride, raising her hand. "I'll actually be modeling in one of the shows! I hope you'll all come to cheer me on!"
Cheers and promises filled the air, each of us eager to see her walk the runway. "What pieces will you be wearing?" Someone asked, though she quickly reminded us that the specifics were still under wraps.
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"If only it were easier to get into these shows," Another girl sighed. "I'd love to model too, but these agencies are so selective."
"Yes, especially with aristocrats—they often steer clear to avoid any perception that we're promoting smaller brands with noble faces. Regular models let the designs shine without the social attachments," Another agreed thoughtfully.
