Perilune

Chapter 7

When Lyra finally withdrew herself from the bath, she was stunned by the effect of the water, unable to stop running her fingers along her arms and legs for a moment.  As she dried off, she realized she had no clue how to proceed once she was out of the washroom.  What did Amaris expect?  Should she burst out of the room jovially, greet her with music in her voice, or was her quiet nature what Amaris enjoyed?  Should she speak more of herself?  Her stomach dropped at that.  She had nothing impressive to say.  It could also be rude to speak of herself at length. 

The thought crossed her mind that she could attempt to simply get by with questions of Amaris, but it sent her into chaos wondering what she should even ask, or if Amaris might consider her behavior entitlement to more information than she was granted.  Lyra heard footsteps in the hall, a door opening and closing.  Wherever Amaris had gone, she was back.  Drying herself off quickly as possible, Lyra glanced at the dress.  It looked far too marvelous for her.  Her face paled as she wondered if the quality of the gift was proportionate to Amaris's expectations of her.

By the time she had towel dried her hair to the extent she could and slipped into the dress, she had agonized to the point of a potent belief that Amaris was sorely mislead.  Lyra wasn't sure how, but she had created a version of herself in Amaris's mind that could never breathe.  Her breathing became faint as she ran a comb through her hair.  Amaris would learn soon she was not so special, not worth such lavish gifts.  The realization could enrage her; she could feel lied to. 

She glanced at her reflection.  Aside from the dress, she hardly looked like she made an effort on her appearance.  Lyra glanced around at the bottles lining the counter. 

After attempting a few cosmetics she found, one the color of her skin applied over her skin to make her face one consistent tone, she immediately washed her face again.  The sensation on her skin was too unpleasant to tolerate; it was as if the odd weight upon it was trying to stiffen every feature intended to shift with her emotions.

She decided to make her appearance seem laborious through her hair instead.  With an incredulous look she noticed a jar of powder claiming to dry hair instantly.  Applying it proved the container correct, and her hair glimmered from it.  Deciding this was presentable, Lyra glanced nervously at the door.

While she was encouraged to take her time, she was terrified to keep Amaris waiting.  Stage fright quieted her voice as she stepped into the hallway, and through the door to the room Amaris had returned to. 

Amaris's eyes immediately fell upon her as she stepped in.  "You look marvelous."  Amaris stared as if admiring a rare jewel.

"Thank you, Amaris," Lyra said as she scanned Amaris's facial and bodily cues for even the most vague hint of danger.  A temporary ease fell upon her as Amaris smiled gently, but this was fragile.  Lyra was unsure if it was the ground or her knees which would begin to tremble first.

"I have done nothing special by having eyes," Amaris said.  The calmness in Lyra's eyes broke, and Amaris was startled to see fear.  "You have done nothing wrong to thank me," she quickly added, "I simply do not require it."

The calmness returned to her expression, but the scent of fear in the air marred her acting.  Amaris concealed her frown, realizing it or any other expression of discontentment would frighten her further.  While she wished Lyra understood she was safe, she could not blame her for not believing such a thing.  Amaris regretted the time between meeting her and deciding to treat her as a friend; she had shown herself to be volatile, impatient, monstrous.  It was her own actions which made the ground appear unstable, her own fault that Lyra's eyes were affixed upon her with an anxious vigilance, carefully examining her every expression and movement for signs of danger.