Art of The Dress

Viola stood in the dressing room, watching the woman in the mirror stare back at her with bewilderment. Such pale cheeks, absent of blush, stuck to sharp cheek bones in a contrast to the soft, round, red lips the girl had before her. Brown hair was pulled away from the face, avoiding anything from dropping on to the pure white dress that draped upon her body.

No, Vi decided, draped was the wrong word. The dress hugged her hips perfectly, lace covering the dress in a vintage style. The woman helping her had warned the dress would be too old fashioned, but the Spaniard disagreed. In fact, she hoped the dress would be old; she wanted Ethon to remember his past, his traditions, even if they ha died out centuries ago.

As Viola ran her fingers over the patterns and flowers, she couldn't help but feel beautiful. For a moment, she could feel the future, her sitting down with a daughter, whispering about her wedding day as if it was a treasured secret. The thought gave her a smile, even through she knew it could never be fulfilled.

Then, with a burst of confidence, the vampire opened the door to the floor to look for the man of her dreams.

Spoiler:

Ethon idly gazed about the shop in which he had found himself. A smile pulled at his lips at the reason; Vi was trying on wedding dresses. For their wedding. They were getting married.

Finally, she would be wholly his.

As the door to the changing room opened and the man turned, then froze. The breathing he had little need to perform ceased altogether, even as his slow heart beat notably picked up pace. For a moment, he simply drank her in. Then, he smile tenderly, drawing in a breath so he could speaking.

"You look... so beautiful," he murmured fervently.