Simple Awakenings

chapter 11

Am I in Camelot?!

I mean, to be coming from an area where there is no such thing as technology, it has to be certain that I am in the medieval times. Or something similar to that time period. The only thing that I'm wishing is that there is no such thing as the bubonic plague because I am not going to risk being a victim of the Black Death.

I mean, I'm already the victim of a metaphorical Black Death, also known as the asshole king that is escorting me back to my room so I can get changed into something I guess more tolerable for this area...time period...whatever.

All that Atlas does is stop in front of my door, waits for me to be inside my room, and leaves without saying any word to me or giving any nice gesture. But, knowing him, I'm predicting that he is giving me the middle finger in his mind.

Don't worry, because I am also.

I make my way to the vanity and sit in front of the mirror, examining all of the various sorts of makeup and hair products that are now what I guess mine. I look back up at myself and sigh.

My eyes are looking puffy and a bit red underneath, but it's something I'm used to. My brown hair that's in its bun is looking tangled and messed up so I attempt to get it out of my hair. Once I do, I am greeted with my tangled mess so I just grab a brush and start the detangling process.

Once finished, I now look at all of the makeup. Now, I don't wear makeup all the time. Well, I barely wear makeup unless my mom would tell me to for whatever event there is, which was mostly band concerts and if I'm getting my picture professionally taken and what so not.

Mom...

Dad...

I'm not seeing myself now. I'm seeing my mom whenever she had a rough day and needs a glass of wine or overslept. Even though I'm told that Josh and I look nothing like our parents, it doesn't matter because that's what I am seeing in this very mirror.

A tear falls down my cheek but I wipe it away quickly when I hear a knock on my door. "Miss? It's Rosamie. I've come to help you get ready." The petite voice of Rosamie comes from outside my door.

"Come in." I reply, my voice cracking a little bit trying to keep myself composed as much as I can.

Rosamie walks over to me and examines my face. "Do you have any preference for today's look?" She asks.

"Uhm...is it possible for me to not wear makeup like, ever?" I also ask raising an eyebrow.

Rosamie laughs and begins to play with my hair. "If you were working here, then no makeup is the look to go for. But, unfortunately, you are an honored lifetime guest, and the Queen Mother requests that you look pristine every time after breakfast so the answer to your question is no, you have to wear makeup." She was sounding sympathetic for me. "But..."
 Oh great, there's a but.

"But what?"

"Is a natural makeup look a thing in your country? Making it look like you're not wearing makeup when you actually are?"

Fuck, why didn't I think of that.

My eyes lighten up. "Yes. Yes. Can you do that?" I ask almost making it look like I was practically begging for her to do that type of makeup look.

"I've never done one before," fuck. "But I can experiment on you for a bit until we get the exact look that you are looking for. Then I can memorize it for the next time you want this look."

I fucking love this girl so fucking much like fuck.

Wow, three f bombs in the same sentence. New record.

"Thank you so so so much!" I hug her as tight as I can, which earned a bit of a squeak from her.

"I...I never have been hugged by a mortal before." She stutter and hesitates hugging me.

"I don't bite. Literally. I also don't have any cooties or diseases so you can hug me." I assure her. We do a real quick hug and she gets to doing my makeup.

Within the two hours we spent trying to color match foundation with my skin color, swatching various eyeshadows and lip colors (I watch the beauty gurus on Youtube sometimes), and plucking my eybrows, we finally got my makeup to look how I wanted it to be. I looked like myself still, but more...mature.

I was too busy staring at myself to notice that Rosamie has begun to slightly curl the ends of my hair, putting the hair that was framing my face into a mini ponytail. When I finally did notice, I realize that I'm looking more and more like a princess.

All I just need is a dress.

"Come on. We need to get you dressed." Well, now my five year old self is squealing.

We go to the wardrobe that had all of the floor length dresses and I rummage through them. I decide on a red gown with short sleeves and the collar is a bit up my neck, the bodice and sleeves are laced and the skirt flows and looks like it is made out of some silk material.

Now looking in the mirror, I look like I could be a princess of this country. But the only thing that makes me ineligible is that I know I am definitely not faerie. I don't have the ears, and the marks that Hannis told me every faerie has.

Hannis...Ercit...Adria...Servdon...

Oh, I miss them so.