Dress Up [A T'Challa Udaku Story]

Chapter 4

Damn it all!" T'challa hissed, his hand flying onto the table. "Calm yourself!" Ramonda admonished, glaring at her son as Shuri frowned at the cake in front of her. "It has been weeks mama, weeks and still she shows no sign of improvement. Did we choose the dumbest of them all!"

"T'Challa you will watch your mouth!"

"So she can not bake a cake, neither can you. Everyone has a talent, maybe we should stop conforming her to our standards and look at her own." Shuri pointed at Sirobie where she sat, her back facing the group.

"The cake is not the problem. The problem is that we have tested now, eight  talents, and she has a knack for none of them. She is utterly talentless according to Wakanda's standards. If she is to stand in for Kamyra, then she must present herself as an embodiment of Wakanda, held to Wakanda's standards."

"If only you would hold your betrothed to that standard, maybe we wouldn't be in this position in the first place!" Shuri fired off, glaring at her brother. Sirobie stood quietly and glided out of the room, stopping only to glance back at the siblings. She sighed before continuing into the hall. Sirobie hurried back to her room, fighting back the tears burning the corners of her eyes. She blindly pushed open her door, jumping slightly at the women who stood in front of her. "Kasigo, Eshe," she quickly wiped from under her eyes, "I was not expecting you until later."

"We found your art supplies and thought we would drop them off for you to have after your session with the Queen, are you alright my lady?" Eshe frowned. "I will be fine, thank you both," Sirobie offered a small smile. " Are you sure you would not like some company?" Kasigo offered. "I am well. Or I will be."

"If you insist, we will be back later tonight," Eshe reaffirmed, both of the women dipping into an elegant curtsy. "Thank you," Sirobi smiled, until both of the doors were shut. Glancing at the blank canvas and supplies, she let tears begin to fall from her eyes as she walked back out onto the balcony. She methodically set up her station, letting her tears fall freely in a trail from the balcony to her room.

A few minutes later, she sat in comfort in front of her easel. Rushing back into her room, she grabbed last week's sketch from her night stand and methodically traced the design onto the canvas. The scratch of the pencil lead, soothed the students nerves as she let the tears fall.
The tears began to slow, as the woman emerged from the fountain side. Minutes, then an hour passed before she placed the final stroke. Placing the pencil down, and finally wiping her eyes, Sirobie sighed, turning to grab her paints. Only to run smack into the king's chest.

"You never told us you paint." the king stated, staring at the mesmerizing sketch of the mountain. Sirobie moved around him to begin placing and mixing her paint. "You never asked me what I could do. You only assumed."

She moved intentionally around the king. Finally allowing herself to move back to the easel once the brushes, paint, and water were all comfortably positioned. She began by filling in and highlighting the rich brown of the woman's skin. Displaying her natural curves and glow where the sunlight hit her skin.

"Why do you start with her body and not the mountain, or the large expanse of sky."

"She is the focal point of the painting. She deserves time and detail. This also allows me to mold the elements of nature to highlight her beauty, and presence, even more."

"You paint beautifully. Yet you study film. Why?"

"I am a storyteller at heart. Sometimes I paint what the director in me, envisions in my head."

"I apologize for my conduct and words earlier."

"Why?"

"Because they were cruel and wrong-"