On the stupidity of dresses

Evelyn looked at her reflection in the mirror. The dress that had been picked out for her presentation was positively hideous. Why no one trusted her judgment was a mystery to her—Evelyn had rather good taste in clothing. But whoever had picked this dress should be killed. The dress was a bronze-green color—somewhere between poo and vomit, an unpleasant shade. The material of the skirt was crinkly, and wrinkled terribly when she sat down, and made noise when she moved. The bodice had purposeful wrinkles on it to 'slim her midsection', apparently. She thought it looked awful. The only redeeming thing about the dress was the neckline, which resembled an upside down heart. With her reddish-blonde hair, Evelyn looked a lot like a plant putting down roots. She felt nauseous just looking at herself.

Someone knocked on her door. "Yes?" she called.

"Its your dad." Evelyn went to the door and flung it open. Raoul's eyes widened. "Mithros, girl, what are you wearing?"

"A dress," she moaned. "This is what I'm expected to wear when I'm presented to the whole cursed Court!" Evelyn fell upon her bed. "I look like a plant!"

"Who picked that?" he asked, making a face.

She glared at him. "Not helping." In that moment, Evelyn looked so like her mother that Raoul had to stifle a laugh. "Father!" She never used the formal term, so Raoul knew she was being serious. "What am I going to do?"

"Get a new dress?" he suggested.

Ev looked horrified. "There is a week until the presentation. No good seamstress could make a dress for me in that time."

"What's wrong with wearing an already made dress?"

"It's special! I can't show up in just anything!"

"Have you talked to Cythera yet?"

"No. I just got this in. Who picked my dress? And what fight did they have with the person making it?"

"Your aunt probably ordered it."

"Does she really hate me that much?"

Raoul chuckled. "No, Ev. I think she just said, 'Run with it.' Your aunt isn't very current on the styles."

"What am I going to do?" Evelyn looked so distraught over a silly dress. Raoul couldn't understand it. Then again, he'd given up trying to understand women long before.

"Come on." He offered her his hand. "We're going to locate Cythera." He looked her over. "On second thought, I think I'll bring her to you." Raoul disappeared and then returned with the stunning Cythera behind him.

"Gods!" Cythera's eyes widened. "That's awful!"

"Thanks, Aunt Cythera," Evelyn muttered. "What are we going to do about it?"

Cythera considered the dress for a long moment. "Well, you don't really have many options at the moment," she explained. "You can either wear it or wear something already made." She shuddered. "I think the first option is out entirely. If only you would fit in one of my gowns…" Cythera had a good three inches on Evelyn, and was significantly slenderer. Evelyn stood only a petite five-three, with more curves than she really cared for. Her breasts always seemed to get in the way, but her legs were built like anyone's who spends a lot of time in the saddle.

"You know, I can think of someone who might be able to help us," Raoul remarked. Cythera looked at him.

"Does this person have a name?" She raised her eyebrows, ever the proper Court lady.

"Myles' wife, Eleni." Cythera considered this a moment. "Come on, Cythera. You know she used to do this for a living. And she can make something faster than anyone in the City."

"If she even has a chance of helping, can we go, please?" Evelyn looked down at the dress she was wearing. "This is just disgusting."

"I don't see why not…" Cythera paused to think a moment. "Gary is in meetings the rest of the day. He won't miss me. We'll go now."

"Good." Evelyn started to follow her aunt.

"Um, Ev?" Raoul stopped her. "You might want to take the dress off first."

-&-

"Hello, Cythera!" Eleni greeted warmly. Evelyn took in the older woman. She had graying hair and a kind looking face lit by hazel eyes. She dressed simply, but there was an air about her that Ev couldn't name. All she knew was that she suddenly felt a lot calmer. "What brings you here this fine day?"

"Her." Cythera placed her hand on Evelyn's back and gently pushed the girl forward. "Eleni, this is Evelyn of Goldenlake. Evvie, this is Eleni Cooper of Olau, Sir Myles' wife." Even though Evelyn hadn't met Sir Myles, she knew who he was. It was hard not to.

Eleni took in Evelyn. "You look like your father's daughter," she remarked. "Same strength." Evelyn decided not to mention that she wasn't actually Raoul's daughter. Being compared to him wasn't an awful slight – he was rather handsome, as father-types go. "What do you need, Evelyn?"

"Evvie," she corrected quickly. "And my presentation is next week…"

"You don't have a dress?" Eleni looked alarmed. "Gods, Cythera, I would've expected better from you!"

"I have a dress," Ev admitted. "It's just hideous." She had brought the dress, just in case they were just going to add touches to make it more attractive as it was. "I can't imagine what the seamstress was thinking…"

"Great Merciful Mother!" Eleni's hand flew to her heart. "In all my years of doing this, I think I can honestly tell you that your dress is the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

"Agreed." Cythera winced. "And I tried on some terrible gowns in my day."

"Can you do anything?" Evelyn's eyes were so hopeful that Eleni sighed. She took the dress from the girl, holding it gingerly.

"I can't use this." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "A week?" She looked deep in thought. "I might be able to make you something…"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Evelyn hugged the older woman fiercely. "Anything you make will be better than what I have now. I'm sure my father will pay you handsomely…"

Eleni shook her head. "Consider it my gift to you."

-&-

On her way out of Eleni's room later on, Evelyn ran smack into someone. He was tall, topping six feet, with Eleni's hazel eyes. His nose was rather large, marring his otherwise handsome face. The man was tanned, with brown hair. He smiled at her. "Whoa there. Slow down."

"I'm sorry," Evelyn gushed, blushing. "I wasn't paying attention…" She looked up at him. "It's all my fault, sorry. Are you all right?"

The man chuckled. "I'm fine," he told her. "But I'm bigger'n you are. Are you all right?"

Evelyn nodded. "Thick skin," she explained. The man laughed once again. Evelyn could do that – make people laugh. It was one of her virtues.

"I don't think I've seen you before," he remarked. "But clearly you know my mother."

"Your mother?" Eleni hardly looked old enough to be this man's mother. His much older sister, but not his mother.

"She gave birth young." The man shrugged. "What can you do?"

"I'm Evelyn of Goldenlake," she introduced with a quick curtsy. "Raoul is my father."

The man nodded in response. "George of Pirate's Swoop." He gave her a quizzical look when her eyes became as wide as dinner plates. "What?"

"You're married to the Lioness!" she exclaimed. "Gods, she's my hero!"

George smiled. "She gets that a lot. But I'll be sure to tell her. Have you met her?" Evelyn shook her head. George frowned. "That's odd. Alanna and Raoul are old friends."

"I've never been here before," she confessed. "I've lived in Goldenlake all my life."

"That might explain it." George was looking over her head when he smiled again. "And there's your father now. Raoul!" Evelyn turned and waved to her father, grinning at him.

"H'lo, Ev. Get what you need?" Raoul kissed her cheek.

"Yes. Thanks." She turned back to George. "It was a pleasure to meet you." She curtsied.

"The pleasure is all mine," George answered. Evelyn kissed her father briefly before making her way back to her room. George waited until she was out of earshot before asking, "Was that her?"

Raoul nodded. "That was her."

George looked down the hall that Evelyn had just left. "You'd never know from lookin' at her."

Gaah. I feel like this sucked. I'm sorry. By the way, the dress I described? I tried on one that color (different cut, but I kept it close-ish) when looking for a sweet sixteen dress. It was awful.