Promises of Glory

“Prepare while you can.”

-Alexander, adventurer

Rhode went through days of endless (torturous) pampering but slowly got used to it. It seemed that anything was possible.

Despite the annoyance of her daily pampering, Rhode came to enjoy the baths. The hot water washed away all of the stress that she’d come to associate with the simple act of looking appealing, looking like the perfect child. She would let her head sink underwater, letting all of the noise of the maids working to prepare her numerous outfits fade into silence. Silence. She’d missed it. Silence meant safety, freedom from the mask she wore to secure her goals. The mask that she’d gotten so used to these past few months that it almost felt like her face.

But now she stood in front of wide double doors.

She fingered the key she kept on her person. It was always with her. Today it was beneath the neckline of her dress, the cool metal prickling her skin. She has always been sensitive to the cold. But today was a special occasion. Today was the ball. Rhode stood straight, her eyes filled with determination. She wasn’t going to wuss out. Today was her day, her night. Today she would make her escape, maybe.

Rhode glanced at the hideous pink of the dress she was wearing, the thing was beaded and fluffed and just too full to be of any real use of attracting the eyes, displaying her figure. Though she supposed if her figure was small enough to mistake her for a child, no dress could help with that.

She prefered her leather clothes though, the black ones she wore during nightly escapades.

Before she could prepare herself anymore, the grand doors to the ballroom opened before her.