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Entry tags:
Alyssa
Title: Alyssa
Word Count: 891
Notes: I probably won't be adding to this old character sketch.
She was dressed in a double-layered peach day dress of cotton and velvet, and she absolutely loathed it. Alyssa hated how the top bit attractively into her waist and how the heavy skirt billowed outward over an even heavier petticoat, making running impossible. Her mother, on the other hand, was positively glowing with pride—and a hint of vindictive triumph—as she introduced her daughter to the Duchess of Elanton, Lady Henrietta Amelia Bouchard.
Lady Bouchard had two daughters. Draped in identical pink and lavender gowns, they looked like they could be twins, but weren't. Both had swept flawless curtseys when they were introduced, their movements as graceful as the steps of a dance.
Alyssa bobbed more clumsily, in a passable curtsey. A flash of scorn flew through Pink's eyes, replaced a second later by a smile as sweet as poisoned honey.
With introductions over, the two older women immersed themselves in casual conversation, ignoring the children completely. Soon Lady Bouchard drew Alyssa's mother away to share a particularly scandalous piece of gossip, keeping the children in sight but out of hearing range.
Forced together for the time being, Pink finally spoke up. "Mama says you have the prettiest peach blossoms at Chelborne. Do let us come see them sometime," she said demurely.
Alyssa summoned a polite smile. "I'll have to ask Mother," she responded, reaching for and falling short of enthusiasm.
Lavender picked up the flagging conversation without missing a beat. "Oh, and we'd love for you to see our gardens at Elanton. They're nothing very much, but Their Majesties did send their head gardener last summer to pick up a few ideas…"
They flitted from topic to topic, each one quickly losing steam. Dresses, balls, the weather, embroidery, and cooking. Lavender noticed Alyssa's apparent indifference to everything the sisters had to say, and seemed determined to make an impression on the other girl.
"…but we're all very worried about Jonathan—my brother. I pray he'll be home safe and sound by the New Year."
"He's a knight," Pink chimed in, losing any pretense of modesty.
Lavender pressed ahead, seeing Alyssa's eyes light up at the word "knight". "We all cried when he decided to leave to defend the border. It's so dangerous. I begged him not to do it. But he's so brave."
"Like Galahad in the stories! Fighting to defend the honor of his lady love."
Both sisters looked about to swoon at the romantic notion. That was when Alyssa realized that they weren't having the same conversation at all, after all. Pink and Lavender and all the other girls—they dreamed of a knight in shining armor, like in the fairy tales, to sweep them off their feet.
Alyssa wanted to be one.
***
Down. Move a pinch. Up. Pull. Back half a pinch. Down. Move a pinch. Up. Pull. Back half a pinch.
Excruciatingly slowly, the stitched outline of a petal began to take shape on the cotton cloth of the dress. It was exactly the kind of mindless, delicate, and tedious work that Alyssa most despised. If the nine-year-old girl had any choice, she would be sparring, or riding, or even reading—anything but doing embroidery. Unfortunately, all of those activities were forbidden to her at the moment.
Her mother's grim words rang in her head. "Oh, I'll make a proper young noblewoman of you yet, Alyssa. You're not leaving this room until your embroidery is done."
'Done' meant embroidering an entire garden full of tuberose flowers onto the dress. It didn't help that Alyssa hated tuberose; the flowers were sickly sweet, just like a "proper young noblewoman" was supposed to be. In the two or three hours since her mother's decree, she'd only managed to finish outlining and filling in five flowers. At that rate, 'done' would take her days.
Well, Alyssa would just have to be more efficient about it. How could she get this over with as quickly as possible? She tried pulling the thread taut every other stitch, instead of after every stitch, but the resulting stitches were so sloppy that she had to undo them and start again. Next, she thought about making her stitches twice as long, but she knew she'd be told to start all over when her mother inspected her work. She could hear it now: "A fine stitch is the mark of a true lady." Every time her mother said that, Alyssa wanted to retort by asking if the seamstress was a true lady, and every time she held her tongue.
It wasn't even spending several days embroidering tuberoses onto this dress that bothered her the most, though. If that would be the end of it, she'd grit her teeth and get through it, somehow. What Alyssa really couldn't stand was doing embroidery for the rest of her life as a "proper noblewoman". After this dress, there'd be another, and another, and another…
No, Alyssa decided. She had a better idea. She finished off the stitch, cut the thread, put the needle away, and neatly folded the dress. Leaving it on the chair, she walked to the door and was happy to find it unlocked. Closing the door behind her, she headed for the stables. Alyssa was going for a ride.
It didn't matter how they punished her for it. They'd give up eventually; she wouldn't.
Word Count: 891
Notes: I probably won't be adding to this old character sketch.
She was dressed in a double-layered peach day dress of cotton and velvet, and she absolutely loathed it. Alyssa hated how the top bit attractively into her waist and how the heavy skirt billowed outward over an even heavier petticoat, making running impossible. Her mother, on the other hand, was positively glowing with pride—and a hint of vindictive triumph—as she introduced her daughter to the Duchess of Elanton, Lady Henrietta Amelia Bouchard.
Lady Bouchard had two daughters. Draped in identical pink and lavender gowns, they looked like they could be twins, but weren't. Both had swept flawless curtseys when they were introduced, their movements as graceful as the steps of a dance.
Alyssa bobbed more clumsily, in a passable curtsey. A flash of scorn flew through Pink's eyes, replaced a second later by a smile as sweet as poisoned honey.
With introductions over, the two older women immersed themselves in casual conversation, ignoring the children completely. Soon Lady Bouchard drew Alyssa's mother away to share a particularly scandalous piece of gossip, keeping the children in sight but out of hearing range.
Forced together for the time being, Pink finally spoke up. "Mama says you have the prettiest peach blossoms at Chelborne. Do let us come see them sometime," she said demurely.
Alyssa summoned a polite smile. "I'll have to ask Mother," she responded, reaching for and falling short of enthusiasm.
Lavender picked up the flagging conversation without missing a beat. "Oh, and we'd love for you to see our gardens at Elanton. They're nothing very much, but Their Majesties did send their head gardener last summer to pick up a few ideas…"
They flitted from topic to topic, each one quickly losing steam. Dresses, balls, the weather, embroidery, and cooking. Lavender noticed Alyssa's apparent indifference to everything the sisters had to say, and seemed determined to make an impression on the other girl.
"…but we're all very worried about Jonathan—my brother. I pray he'll be home safe and sound by the New Year."
"He's a knight," Pink chimed in, losing any pretense of modesty.
Lavender pressed ahead, seeing Alyssa's eyes light up at the word "knight". "We all cried when he decided to leave to defend the border. It's so dangerous. I begged him not to do it. But he's so brave."
"Like Galahad in the stories! Fighting to defend the honor of his lady love."
Both sisters looked about to swoon at the romantic notion. That was when Alyssa realized that they weren't having the same conversation at all, after all. Pink and Lavender and all the other girls—they dreamed of a knight in shining armor, like in the fairy tales, to sweep them off their feet.
Alyssa wanted to be one.
***
Down. Move a pinch. Up. Pull. Back half a pinch. Down. Move a pinch. Up. Pull. Back half a pinch.
Excruciatingly slowly, the stitched outline of a petal began to take shape on the cotton cloth of the dress. It was exactly the kind of mindless, delicate, and tedious work that Alyssa most despised. If the nine-year-old girl had any choice, she would be sparring, or riding, or even reading—anything but doing embroidery. Unfortunately, all of those activities were forbidden to her at the moment.
Her mother's grim words rang in her head. "Oh, I'll make a proper young noblewoman of you yet, Alyssa. You're not leaving this room until your embroidery is done."
'Done' meant embroidering an entire garden full of tuberose flowers onto the dress. It didn't help that Alyssa hated tuberose; the flowers were sickly sweet, just like a "proper young noblewoman" was supposed to be. In the two or three hours since her mother's decree, she'd only managed to finish outlining and filling in five flowers. At that rate, 'done' would take her days.
Well, Alyssa would just have to be more efficient about it. How could she get this over with as quickly as possible? She tried pulling the thread taut every other stitch, instead of after every stitch, but the resulting stitches were so sloppy that she had to undo them and start again. Next, she thought about making her stitches twice as long, but she knew she'd be told to start all over when her mother inspected her work. She could hear it now: "A fine stitch is the mark of a true lady." Every time her mother said that, Alyssa wanted to retort by asking if the seamstress was a true lady, and every time she held her tongue.
It wasn't even spending several days embroidering tuberoses onto this dress that bothered her the most, though. If that would be the end of it, she'd grit her teeth and get through it, somehow. What Alyssa really couldn't stand was doing embroidery for the rest of her life as a "proper noblewoman". After this dress, there'd be another, and another, and another…
No, Alyssa decided. She had a better idea. She finished off the stitch, cut the thread, put the needle away, and neatly folded the dress. Leaving it on the chair, she walked to the door and was happy to find it unlocked. Closing the door behind her, she headed for the stables. Alyssa was going for a ride.
It didn't matter how they punished her for it. They'd give up eventually; she wouldn't.