Cirice Forge doesn't know who she is. Other than a piece of paper with her name on it, she knows nothing about her time before she was dispersed into the foster system. Now, she bartends at a popular gentleman's club with plenty of ogling and still...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Cirice Forge you come down from there right this instant!" Sister Sarah cried, pushing the front of her habit slightly up so she could see the child in the tree. Cirice giggled playfully, climbing one branch higher, now at least 10 feet from the ground.
"Sister Sarah, what is it this time?" Mother Beatrice asked, coming to her side.
"It's Cirice Forge again. I swear that child is possessed by the Devil himself!" Sister Sarah cried.
"You a damn ri-." Cirice was cut off as she lost her footing and tumbled down the tree side and to the ground. Her head ached as the boys who had challenged her to reach the top all shared a boisterous laugh.
"Heavens, child are you alright?" Mother Beatrice asked, stopping to examine her. Cirice's eyes welled with tears, more embarrassed than hurt. Sister Sarah started towards the boys.
"You must know, you cannot do everything they do." Mother Beatrice said, eyeing her.
"Why ever not! I am just as good as they are!" Cirice argued, wiping her palms on her dusty knees and standing. Mother Beatrice did the same.
"You cannot do everything they can because you aren't supposed to. You are meant to do everything they can't."
Cirice awoke in a cold sweat, the memory of Saint Michael's burning fresh in her mind's eye. It was still dark, yet the winter birds outside hinted at the coming dawn. Cirice turned over in her bed, blowing a stray hair from her face as she contemplated the memory.
Why had that one become so present? What about it was worthy of remembering. Cirice wasn't sure, but she was eager to find out.
****
There was a knock at the door just as Cirice had finished getting ready. She jumped at the sound, but cleared her throat and muttered: "Come in."
Ithica appeared, her face tired yet content. Behind her, a woman about her age followed. She had red hair and blue eyes. Her eyes were haunting, as they pierced through Cirice.
"Cirice, this is Ivy. She is our seamstress." Ithica said, gesturing to Ivy who approached Cirice slowly. Her eyes seemed to be fixed on a point behind Cirice.
"Hello." Cirice said, unsure as Ivy stopped. She smiled softly to herself, reaching out.
"Would it be alright if I touch you? I'll Harbor no I'll thoughts if you decline, but if you could not determine--I am blind," she said slowly, her face contorting a bit as her thin hands hung in the space.
Cirice looked from her hands to Ivy, meeting her in seeing eyes.
"Sure," she replied, moving closer. Ivy reached out, taking hold of her arms at the elbow. She gasped softly and ran her hands up and to Cirice's cheeks. She smiled as her fingers lightly brushed over Cirice's lashes and lips. Then she placed her hands gently through Cirice's hair that was partially up.
"You are just like her," Ivy commented softly, stepping back.
"My mother?" Cirice breathed, smiling. Ivy nodded.
"Your color, however, is much different. Her's was fiery orange, yours is bright blue." Ivy said, sighing.
"But I digress. I am here to make you a dress for the ball. Ithica won't you grab my measure?" she said, turning towards Ithica. Ithica nodded as Ivy turned back to Cirice.
"Isn't the ball at the end of this week? How do you plan to finish it in time?" Cirice questioned as Ivy took her measuring tape and began to take Cirice's measurements.
"Ivy is very fast. The most skilled seamstress I have ever seen." Ithica assured. Cirice noted the small indentations on the tape that Ivy ran her fingers over.
"Would it be too much trouble to ask to have some input on the design?" Cirice asked, hopeful. Ivy raised her head from Cirice's knee, beginning to roll up her tape.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked, standing.
"I want something that looks different. Something that won't be expected in this....place--time?" Cirice said, her mind flipping to Alex. Ithica gave her a smirk.
"This wouldn't be a ploy to please a certain gentleman, would it?" she asked as Ivy smiled. Cirice gave her a look.
"I know just the thing to impress Mr. Idris and honor your dear mother," Ivy said, placing a reassuring hand upon her arm. Cirice beamed.
