「Dιsςοrd」

「IV」

Lucinda
I take my time opening the bathroom door and trudge across my bedroom to the main door. Another knock echoes through the silent room and I place my hand on the knob, exhaling softly. I turn the knob and open the door, coming face to face with my mother. She stands with her arms impatiently crossed over her chest, her plush red lips pressed into a thin line showing her irritation. Her brows are furrowed, creased lightly and even in this sort of foul mood there is no doubt she is beautiful. Her long black-to-gray hair falls in gentle curls to her lower back, a tight red dress accenting the color of her lips.
"Hello."
I say curtly, offering a polite nod of my head. Her brows furrow deeper and she drops her arms to her sides, lifting her chin.
"Dinner is in 30 minutes, your father is joining us. Don't be late."
She says cooly and turns, sashaying down the hall away from me. I close the door and groan outwardly, moving quickly towards my closet. Dinner is an over-glorified event held when father is home. The fancy dinner and high expectations are used as as a distraction from their disappointment-of-a-daughter and the fact that their marriage is nothing more than  political. I open the door and step into the rectangular closet, picking my way through the dresses on the far wall. My eyes settle on a flowing black gown that hangs loosely from the rack. I pick the hanger from the rack and leave the closet, moving to my bed. I set the dress on the bed and begin undressing as I examine it. It's a halter-style, floor-length black gown that hugs the upper body and loosens from the hip down, a slit along the left side reaching thigh level. Once I've undressed I slip the garment from the hanger, pulling it over my head. The dress settles on my shoulders and I struggle for a moment to zip it up. Once I do, I move to the floor length mirror in the corner of my bedroom. The dress is perfectly fitted, accenting all the right places. I curl my chin-length hair and apply a bit of makeup before checking the time. "Perfect." I think and move to my nightstand, grabbing the thigh sheath that sits there and strap it on my left thigh. I situate the dress's slit, pleased with the way it hides the holder and grab my dagger. I slip it into its place, cover it, and leave the room.

Unedited