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Later that evening, as the gorgeous sunset disappeared beneath the horizon, Veneila lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Her bed was huge, with a black canopy and matching curtains which could be pulled around to hide the occupants of the bed from view. Outside was a large balconey, with a glass table and two matching chairs to the side, with many potted flowers growing over the stone banister and hanging over the patio below. The clear forcefield doorway leading outside was surrounded by heavy black drapes. Next to the doorway was an ornatley carved desk. A matching dresser was against the wall to the right. The stone floor was covered by a black rug, and handing on the walls were a few of Veneila’s favorite paintings, all framed in black plastisteel frames. She had a few others hanging around the house, but most were sold for sometimes unimaginable amounts of money. Laveesha took most of it, but the amount that Veneila kept herself was still incredible.
A knock sounded through the room, pulling Veneila out of her daydream. “Enter,” she called. Her little sister bounded into the room.
“So, how do you like your room?” the little girl demanded, jumping onto Veneila’s bed.
“Go away, Narcissa,” Veneila growled angrily.
“I hope you know that mom just bought you pink sheets,” Narcissa pointed out in a giggly voice.
“So? Why don’t you run along and find some other little rats to play with,” Veneila chased Narcissa out of the room, then she shut and locked the door and went to her closet where she had hung her gowns. I might as well go to the market and see about getting some new paintbrushes or a new sketchbook, she decided.
Veneila wandered around the market slowly, noticing how her choice of dress stood out starkly against the colourful gowns and suits of the other people. Che always wore black gowns, though she owned many of bright purple, blue, green and about a thousand other ‘happy’ colours, and her mother hated it. As she walked, she knew that people were watching her, but she was used to it. She acted well nonetheless, smiled and said hello to passersby. Veneila wandered in and out of shops, stopping to admire beautiful silk gowns, handwoven rugs and fine silver jewellery. Before she had even made it to the Arts district, she had already purchased a gorgeous silver necklace with a deep indego Sea Stone dangling on it, a black silk scarf and a new lip paint in a pale violet shade. She carried herself around regally, automatically classifing the people around her into the different classes as she had been taught. As she drew closer to the Arts district, she realized that there were few and few young people around. She thought it odd that the young weren’t interested in the arts, but shook it off. She entered the closest shop, with bright curtains in the window and a painting she recognized at once as one of her own.
Veneila browsed around, and remained hidden for awhile, but as soon as the shopkeeper noticed her face, he immediatly got excited. “You... you are Veneila Delle Teronne, aren’t you?” he asked her excitedly.
Veneila nodded. “I am,” she told him, still looking at the different types of canvases he had.
“I love your work!” he exclaimed. “I have many pieces, and I would be gracious if you wouldn't mind giving me your autograph.”
“Of course not, I love meeting my fans,” Veneila smiled at the young man, and signed the book he handed her with a quick flick of her wrist.
“Perhaps, you would like to have a Belvisian tea with me this evening?” he asked, slowly.
“That would be nice,” Veneila replied happily. “I’ll come by at 8 o’clock, alright?”
“That would be perfect,” he smiled at her, then went back to the counter to tend to another customer.
Veneila decided on a leatherbound parchment sketchbook, a set of Woola hair paintbrushes and two large canvases. She purchased them quickly, saying goodbye to the storekeeper, whose name she had found out was Lotin, with a quick hug, then headed home quickly, not wanting to be late for dinner.
“Oh, Veneila, there you are,” Laveesha said hurriedly when Veneila returned. “I was invited to a party this evening and I need you to look after Narcissa.”
“I can’t,” Veneila told her mother, “I have a date.”
“What?!” her mother exclaimed.
“A young gentleman invited me out for tea this evening,” Veneila informed the speechless Laveesha.
“Well, you’ll just have to cancel.”
“I will not! You want me to make friends and start liking it here, but yet you won’t let me go out or anything! I am tired of this. If I had anywhere to go, I would leave,” Veneila shouted, then stormed up to her room and slammed the door.
She noticed that it was only 5:30, so she set up her easel and put a canvas on it, put away her scarf and lip paint, then placed her paintbrushes in a handcarved holder, painted with intricate silver designs. Her father had given it to her before he died, and Veneila cherished it. He had always been away, being a trader and all, and he had preferred Narcissa over her for as long as she could remember, as did her mother.
Veneila changed out of her gown and into a simple silk dress, and untied her long pale violet locks. They tumbled past her waist, just to her knees, and she prided herself on keeping smooth and soft as the finest silk. She got out her new sketchbook and her old charcoal sticks, turned on some classical music and sat outside at the table, and found herself getting lost in the music and her art.
Veneila looked up, after finally finishing her drawing. “Oh, no!” she whispered, then flew out of her seat and into her room, frantically trying to decide what to wear. She flipped through her closet, almost automatically saying no to everything. She felt almost hopeless when something caught her eye. She moved to the corner of her closet, and took out what it was that had caught her attention. What she saw before her caused her to draw in her breath in awe. It was a ball gown, as were most of her other dresses, but different. The top was corset-like, being in that it had capped shoulders, it laced up the back and it seemed almost moulded. The corset itself was black silk, accented around the collar and sleeves with silver gemstones. The skirt was floor length, and made of very fine tulle. It puffed out grandly. Around where the corset and the skirt attached were braided silk ribbons, accented with more silver gemstones. Veneila danced around, laughing at her good fortune. She then raced out into her dressing room and slid into the dress, beckoning one of the passing servents just long enough to tie the corset, then shooing her away. She painted her face the way she was taught, adding a coat of her new lip paint. Veneila put her hair up on top of her head with several silver clips, then slid her feet into a pair of silk slippers, then raced out of her room and downstairs. Just as she was about to head outside, her mother stopped her.
“Veneila,” she said.
“Yes?” Veneila responded impatiently.
“I just want you to know that I’m happy you are meeting people, and that I hope you like the dress,” Laveesha smiled.
“I love it, mother, and thank you,” Veneila hugged her, then ran outside and climbed inside the carriage. It sped off into the night, towards the market and Veneila’s handsome date.
Veneila headed inside the store. She heard a bell ring, then Lotin walked out from a back room. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” Veneila exclaimed. “I was drawing and I lost track of time,” she explained.
Lotin smiled. “I mind not,” he told her, walking to her. He looked down at her face, into her eyes, and touched her cheek softly. “You are very beautiful,” he said softly. He swept a piece of Veneila’s hair of her face.
Veneila blushed. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered in reply.
“Well, my Veneila, shall we be off?” he offered Veneila his arm, and she took it. The walked outside into the warm night and turned down the cobblestone street. They walked along slowly, chatting and stopping to admire things in store windows.
“Well, Lotin, since it seems we are quite taken by each other, maybe I should learn your age,” she said.
“I am of 25 years,” Lotin told her.
“Oh, then perhaps you are too old,” Veneila said, with sadness showing in her eyes and voice. “I am only 17.”
“But age should not fall in the way of love,” Lotin told her intelligently.
“Love? But we have only just met.”
“I have heard that when you find your true love, you know with the first glance of the eyes.”
“Wow,” Veneila sighed. “Perhaps we can discuss this while we drink our tea,” she said with a smile.
A couple of weeks later, Veneila sat making plans for her next art show, scrawling ideas into her journal datapad, in between paint strokes. Lotin had inspired her to do a showing in the Art district, in a local art gallery. While she worked on ideas for it, she was finishing up a portrait of Lotin, a surprise which she planned to give him on the opening night of the show. As she worked and painted, she also began to get ideas in her head for dresses and gowns. Veneila had never really been into fashion design, but she had lots of ideas, so she planned on at least starting a portfolio.
Just as Veneila finished up the last few strokes on the painting, a soft knock rang through the silence. “Enter,” she called, putting down her palette and brush.
The door swung open slowly and Laveesha entered. “Ven, there is a big party tonight for one of my friend’s daughters, and I told her you would love to go,” Laveesha informed her daughter.
“I really don’t want to go to some prissy party, mother,” Veneila said, getting up.
“Please, for me,” Laveesha pleaded with her daughter.
“Fine,” Veneila gave in sulkily.
“And please, maybe could you wear something a little brighter than black?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“The party starts at 8 o’clock, so be ready.”
“Yes, mother,” Veneila ushered her mother out of the room, shut the door and flopped down on her bed.
That evening, Veneila sat stifly on a velvet chair in her mother’s room as Laveesha did her hair.
“I’m glad you are doing this,” she told the sulky Veneila.
“Well, I am not,” Veneila informed her mother.
“Can you at least pretend to be social tonight? I would really like for you to make some new friends besides just this male friend of yours.”
“I have more friends than just him!”
“Alright,” Laveesha tied the last ribbon, and stepped back to admire her handiwork.
Veneila’s hair had been curled into pretty ringlets, and piled on top of her head. It had been secrued with Invisipins, and ribbons had been woven into her hair. The ribbons were indego, and accented the purple of Veneila’s gown. Veneila wore her Sea Stone necklace and matching drop earrings, and several silver rings. On her feet were indego dancing slippers. Her gown was floor length, with a long train. It was actually two pieces, the top being cut just over her midriff, and laced tightly up the back. It was sleevless, and covered with purple sequins. The skirt was silk, and hugged her shapely legs. The train itself wrapped around until it covered the floor around her. The waistband was a row of purple sequins.
“I love your gown, though I wish it wasn’t so, oh, erm...” her mother paused, trying to get the right word.
“Skanky?” Veneila offered.
“Well, not skanky,” her mother tried to offset her obvious opinion of the dress.
“Well, whatever you think of it, I love it.” Veneila got up and left the room to get her purse.
Fin