and her name meant sorrow

{FIVE//drapery}

after a small amount of bicker between the two, deirdre agrees to cover herself with a poor excuse for a garment, really. she tells celia it's all she can have, as she's not very high in the ranks as a myst, which celia regards as making loads of sense and perfectly acceptable. the garment in question is essentially two lengths of curtain material with a faint lattice pattern that join together with a button in the middle of the myst's chest.

"this any better?" deirdre asks, and gestures to herself.

with all her might, celia wants to say no, as she can still see more than she'd like to, but instead heaves a defeated sigh and gives in. she looks over deirdre, and furrows her brows together. off to the side of the improvised campfire is what looks like a biscuit tin. if live in suburbia has taught celia one thing, it's that she knows exactly what's in the tin. she goes over to it, being watched with quirked eyebrows all the while, and takes out what she needs.

the thread is yellow. "stay still," celia warns, and wraps a measure of thread around the myst's chest. deirdre has completely frozen, which celia can only think of as a convenience. celia steps back to admire her work. deirdre's dress scrunches together at the waist, illuminating a shape to the myst that celia hadn't seen before. the pale mint improvisational dress is actually kind of beautiful. deirdre thinks so too, but she doesn't say anything.

celia mutters, "can i ask you something?"
"of course, my little dressmaker," deirdre says. "you've been doing it all day, why stop now?"

"where do you come from?" celia says. she notices deirdre's confusion and she adds, "how do you become a myst?"

deirdre takes a step back, thinking. "most are born that way. the sea-mysts and sky-mysts are. i'm only a horned myst, so i wasn't. we're... i think you say in your world, lower-down in the class system we have here."

"you don't get as much respect as them?" celia asks gently.

"no, i guess i don't. i've never really thought about it that way. i used to be like you, celia."

"...what? a human?"

"yes." deirdre smiled. celia noticed the jaggedness of her teeth. "i don't remember it though. i expect we aren't allowed to...i shouldn't even really be talking about it. i was chosen to come to the island and do this job and i'd much rather do this than be dead. i can't think of what would've happened... it's one of my biggest fears; what happens after life. so i'm thankful. more so than anyone has ever been."

the rest of the day passes in a quiet flurry; deidre likens it to the soft crescendo of galah squawks that sunset always brings. when the fruit bats start to appear overhead, deidre stands abruptly. how could she have forgotten?

"isiah will be wondering where i am!"

"who's isiah-"

but deirdre is gone.