My Angel of Music (An Alma and Orfeo Waterfire Saga Fanfiction)

Faire Des Achats

HELLO, EVERYONE! Sorry for the really reallllyyyy long wait!!!!!

I've been so busy with schoolwork and everything.

Make sure to follow, vote and comment on what you think will happen next... :)

AND I would like to dedicate this chapter to @AGkittykat because she and her stories are amazing- be sure to vote, follow, and comment on her stories as well!

PEACE AND LOVE TO ALL OF YOU YAYAYAYA ORFEO AND ALMA IS AMAZING

"He asked you out?" It rang in Al ma's head as Thalia answered her excited convoca.

"Sort of.... He asked me to get gelato. That's sort of date , right?"

"Close enough! How did you do it?"

"I'll tell you the details later. I can meet you at the café?"

"Sure! Which one?"

Classic Thalia, Alma thought, Always for a lunch date

"Well, see, I haven't quite worked that out yet. How about the la Dolce Vita?"

"Giudo, there's like five of those! Where?"

"Elysia, for Neria's sake!"

"Okay, okay," Her voice faded into the sound of the city. She had hopefully finished the convoca and burst out the door, that very moment, in one of her gowns, and a pair of expensive sandals, because Alma was almost there. Thalia had the Florenzia charm; each province of Atlantis had its own, even the poor. Alma loved that fact about Atlantis; no matter where you were from, you always seemed to have an upper hand in something, something that your village had already done for you.

She made her way into the coffee shop, a bell jingling as the door swung open, letting in a sticky gust of hot summer wind. She closed it quickly, relishing the cool. The employees were buzzing from person to person, bringing trays and coffees. Alma smiled. She liked hustle and bustle.

She always spent a bit of time waiting for Thalia because she was the kind of person that had a 'coffee shop outfit' that she needed to put together before arriving. Alma was still in her sundress from the morning. She noticed a man with glasses peering over the edge of his newspaper at her; she quickly looked the other way, pretending to be very interested the menu she had already practically memorized. Then she remembered why she had said no to Orfeo. She convoca'ed home, asking her mother whether she could go out with Thalia.

Her mother was the kind of person that would do anything for her children. There were ten of them to be exact, which seemed like an unrealistically even cut-off number. Enzo, Alma's father, had left on his voyage to Rome when her youngest brother, Marcello was three. He hadn't come back. It wasn't a very dangerous or long journey, but something had gone wrong. The Mages had come to speak with her mother; her mother didn't tell her what had happened. She ached for his comfort, his voice. After two years, she accepted that her father was probably dead. Her mother had gone into a deep depression, and Alma, the oldest sister, topped only by her oldest brother, Rafael, who was in college, had taken the lead of the house. She missed her father, and Thalia didn't seem to understand, and there was no one she could voice it to besides herself, and she did it every once in a while, but she would never break the unbearable news to her younger siblings that their otherwise omnipresent father was missing and gone and dead. Sometimes her mother would stare out into the ocean by their house. She'd walk to the beach and sit there waiting, like Butterfly, waiting in anguish. Her mother, Messalina, still thought her was out there. She said she could feel it. But Alma's hope was gone.

Alma realized that her head had drifted back to its original position, and that she was staring and the newspaper man. She turned away to see Thalia looking at her from the entrance. She plopped down. She was sweaty, as if she had hurried the entire way here, and as usual she smelled like expensive perfume. Her and Alma used to have so much fun at Thalia's house, dressing up in her mom's expensive gowns and jewelry, and giving themselves dainty spritzes of perfume. Thalia wore it every day now.

"Did you order anything?"

"Nah."

"Alma, I can pay for it." Thalia looked at her very earnestly. Alma knew that Thalia was trying to be nice, but it hurt. It hurt that she couldn't take her friends out to dinner, or afford the elite country club parties that Thalia always got so dressed up for.

But it wasn't time for that. It was girl time to fantasize. And Thalia knew it.

"So just gelato?"

"And the festival of Neria. I've never been."

"It's amazing! I've been twice, but, gods, you have to dress up, Alma."

"I do?"

"Yes, I'll help you. Let's go shopping!"

The two girls stumbled into the cobblestone street, laughing and rolling their eyes. There were a few elite stores that Thalia shopped at. They passed the stores where Alma usually shopped.

"Thalia! Where are you going?" They were heading into the heart of Elysia, where the high end people snooted and laughed, and dressed their pets in clothes as expensive as theirs.

"To the good places!"

Alma decided to let herself have fun. They landed in the store Thalia picked out, and with a few measurements, and some awkwardness, they had taken Alma's sizes. Alma looked at herself in a floor-length mirror that lay precariously against the wall. She had always hoped that someday, she would look at her reflection, as see someone as beautiful as Thalia staring back, but she'd only ever gazed up on herself, tan, brown hair, green eyes, surrounded by the gold eye shadow from the magical conch shells she could collect on the beach.

"Thalia?"

"What? After this we'll do makeup!" Thalia's voice was submerged in a row of dresses. The gorgeous fabric lined every single isle. Alma almost felt bad touching it, as if her touch would lessen its beauty. Thalia stumbled out of the swatches and said, "Definitely this color"

"I don't see anything in that color though, Thalia. What about that dress I wore to the gala at the Opera House?"

"No, Alma, that was pretty. You have to look stunning."

Alma nodded, knowing Thalia was right This wasn't just about her, it was about her family as well. If something was started with this man, the one who wrote for the acclaimed opera house of Elysia, then her family could be saved. Even Francesco, maybe.

Thalia continued, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thalia, he told me he could heal Francesco."

Thalia's expression softened. "I know you love your brother, and all, but Alma, this is for you."

"You're right, Thalia." She hugged her friend tightly and smiled. Then they continued their shopping.

Two hours later, they were in the last store's dressing room. The dress looked perfect on her body; it was pink at small and flowy. The material hugged her chest and her hips, and swirled around her thighs when she spun around. Alma wanted it so bad she wanted to cry.

"Thalia, look!"

"Look! Oh my gosh, look, at what I found!"

"Thalia, nevermind."

Thalia's arms were full of dresses, and overflowing with hangers, and she dropped them all at the sight of her friend.

"Oh my gods, Alma, that's the one. That's the one."