Daughter Of The Moon

Chapter 27

Luna

There are few things I can say with absolute certainty, and one of these things is that I hate fashion. Or at least, I hate the current fashion for women. Hate, hate, hate, hate it.

Not that I've known this for very long. Actually, I've only been sure of this for approximately half an hour, because before now, I have only ever had to wear trousers or shorts and shirts. Like a boy, I guess. Not that it has ever particularly bothered anyone until now, since my dad never cared and in Camp Halfblood all the girls wear trousers because it's convenient for moving around. But for some reason, here in London... they care. He must have given me amnesty because I was travelling yesterday, because when I came down for breakfast this morning in my usual attire, Magnolius took one look at me, dropped the thistle he was eating, and yelled: Harriet!

So here I am. With Harriet. Being shoved into a corset before I'm allowed to go and eat. Contemplating how much I hate modern fashion for women.

"Doesn't it even strike you as the tiniest bit ironic?" I ask her, slightly breathless as she tugs at something that seems to decrease the size of my lungs by half.

"What, dear?" Harriet is a somewhat pudgy old woman in one of those bed sheet style Ancient Greek dresses who apparently does all the cooking and house keeping for the not-officially-existing part of the museum. Oh, and she's an eidolon. Almost entirely translucent, though still able to pull very hard at the strings of my dress.

"The fact that I'm not allowed to go and eat until I have put this on, which I don't think will let me eat at all."

I frown at my reflection in the mirror before us. My reflection frowns back, looking sullen in her outfit. I have been tightly laced into a long grey dress with a white lace collar and black buttons down the front, with my dark hair curled into ringlets and little black boots on my feet. I look dainty, and I don't like it. If Zoe were here, she would probably laugh at me.

"Chin up." Harriet says. She sounds brisk, and her expression remains unfazed as she tugs once more at the strings of my dress and I gasp. "See how the dress matches the colour of your eyes; you look pretty."

I sigh, and regret it immediately. "But the corset... is it really necessary?"

The old ghost looks up, her spectral eyebrows raised, and stares at me in the mirror in a demeaning sort of silence until I look down at the toes of my boots, defeated. She pokes around at my clothes for another minute, muttering vaguely about how 'these dastardly suffragettes' are making it 'impossible to be a respectable woman these days'. I consider asking her how it's possible for a ghost to be a respectable woman these days, but in fear of her tightening my clothes even more, I let the thought slide. Back at home, the subject of women being allowed to vote has been milling around pretty placidly since the 1850s, but from what I can hear from Harriet it is different in London.

If I lived here, I think to myself, staring at my doll-like corsetted-tight appearance, I would definitely be a suffragette.

Since I'm unaccustomed to my cumbersome outfit, Harriet has to help me down the stairs, but I make my entrance into the dining room alone. Magnolius nods in appreciation, Odysseus gives a wolfish sort of grin, and Kai stares at me with wide eyes. Seeing them all watching me makes me blush.

Surprisingly, Harriet proves to be my saviour. With her hands planted firmly on her hips, she scowls at the men. "Surely you have all seen a girl before?"

Sheepish, they all look down at their plates and continue to eat. Harriet leaves in the direction of the kitchen, and as I move to sit down, I realise that Zack isn't at the table and take a seat next to Kai.