Elián;
The sweet scent of jasmine and honeysuckle hangs heavy in the room, almost too rich to breathe in.
I'm surrounded…no, imprisoned…by petals, ribbons, and the sound of giggling girls who have sworn to make me perfect before the ceremony.
Alana hums softly beside me as she braids my hair, her fingers gentle but purposeful. Every so often, she'd slide in a fresh sprig of white blossoms into my hair, and I stare at the mirror in front of me.
Never did I think I'd ever see my hair braided. I've been scrubbed clean, dressed up, and now I'm being made up like I'm about to be put on display to be sold.
Two Gravemaw girls sit cross-legged by my feet, polishing my toenails with oils that smell faintly of citrus and smoke.
If beauty could kill, I'd already be on the floor.
"Wow. You look miserable!" Elien mocks in my head as we stare at our reflection and I let out a sigh.
