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𝗡𝗔𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗔 𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗡𝗘
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nahilia’s pace slowed as the boutique came into full view, its frosted glass frontage glowing with warm lanternlight against the cobblestones of Voxthain. The clockwork mannequins in the window rotated with a smooth, mechanical grace, their copper-threaded gowns shifting with every turn. She had spoken with the proprietor just the day before, having heard of the new boutique opening in Voxthain from an acquaintance, and had asked what they were trading for their dresses and services. They had recently opened—although anyone could see how beautiful and well-made the clothing they created was—and needed more customers to grow the business’s notoriety. As a Thorne, someone who interacted with the upper class often when they visited the hospitals she managed, Nahilia could certainly promise to direct her patients in for routine check-ups their way once she and her daughter got their dresses.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It was a trade rooted not in vanity or need for jewels and goods—all of which she had grown accustomed to dealing in—but in strategy and reputation. That was a currency in itself, and she respected it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The boutique door gave a hiss as it opened at their approach, warm air spilling out with the mingled scents of oil, fabric dye, and polished wood. Inside, the whir of gears and the hush of layered silks created a strange harmony, elegant and industrial at once. Nahilia’s eyes scanned the space, cataloguing details with the same diligence she brought to her clinics, before pausing her movement.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Drawing in a measured breath, Nahilia adjusted the fall of her coat, ensuring each line lay just so. Appearances mattered in Voxthain, even more when one carried a noble name, and especially when entering into a public partnership. Her onyx eyes, sharp and steady, softened only when she glanced down at Avaliyah. Her daughter’s presence steadied her in a way she would not admit aloud. With a quiet smile, rare though genuine, she gestured for her daughter to step ahead, allowing her to cross the threshold first as though the moment were meant more for Avaliyah’s delight than her own business arrangement.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Because it was, to her. They had their moments of strife and tension, but Nahilia treasured her daughter more than anything. She realized that they hadn’t done anything together in far too long for her liking, and with the noble gala having been announced and coming up, she had invited her daughter along to find dresses for them both. She couldn’t bring herself to express the depth of emotion she felt aloud at times, but it was there. In the quiet invitations to go somewhere, the rare smiles, the attempt at physical affection at times that was only ever awkward.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Steady, wordless. Unspoken and, more often than not, deeply unapparent to her daughter.
❝ 𝓐𝓿𝓪𝓵𝓲𝔂𝓪𝓱 𝓣𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮 ❞
⠀⠀⠀⠀Excitement sparked through Avaliyah’s chest, her dark eyes wide, reflecting the golden glow of the shop before them. In the lighting, fabrics gleaned before her in studded arrays of deep emerald, pure lilac, and the most royal blue. Her fingers itched with the girlish need to grab them, feel the soft silks, cool like a pond, between her fingers, then find the tulle and fluff it out, watch the light stream through it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀While ordinarily, galas were not something Avaliyah found a lot of joy in–she had spent more years than she could count pasting a smile and lowering her eyes with burning cheeks when someone with their head up their butts made a dig at her parentage, about her not belonging at galas–she couldn’t quite lie about loving to dress up. Looking in the mirror at herself, watching her eyes come alive, hands smoothing over the skirt of the gown she chose, seeing herself in a different light than usually did–someone worthy of being a noble in this city; magical.
⠀⠀⠀She had seen her as beautiful, as worthy always. The way her eyes had gone from their usual jade to a darker evergreen with a catch in her breath, the way she had tucked Vali’s hair behind her ear at the galas, sequestered behind their curtains, where they’d also had their first kiss, and then–and then. Nothing but a cold dismissal, and since that time, galas had become a painful shard of glass between her ribs, a dredge where the worst in Voxthain gathered to judge, gossip, and sneer behind cold smiles and sips of champagne.
⠀⠀⠀⠀But when her mother had asked her to get a dress with her for the upcoming gala, some of that spark had re-ignited, as if it had been truly just buried under ashes this whole time, cold and dark, and not extinguished forever. Feeling beautiful, looking regal…truly, Vali had never quite been able to resist that, nor spinning around in her room with her skirt flying, feeling every inch a princess of earth. And what was more, Mother had asked. So rare was their time together now, and while most of their interactions were filled with Avaliyah feeling stifled and misunderstood, this was one step towards what, Vali hoped, was a better relationship.
⠀⠀⠀⠀She loved her mother endlessly, but she knew they often did not see to eye to eye. Still, like with most people in her life, Avaliyah was afraid to bring some of it up. She wanted to, but confidence had never been her strong suit. Maybe if they started going on outing together again, she could learn to talk more about what mattered.
⠀⠀⠀⠀When her mother held the door open for her, Avaliyah looked up and returned her smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m–I’m glad we’re doing this,” she added, slipping through and then holding the door from the inside for Nahilia. All around them, the scent of new clothing, that dye and wood Nahilia had smelled, met her nose, and Vali inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. Yes. Her spine tingled as a small smile of excitement crept up her face, and her steps into the boutique had been more spring than a normal walk. Endless possibilities awaited them here, and Avaliyah wanted to try on all of it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀But as she eagerly scanned the offerings, waiting for Nahilia to enter after her, it carved through her like a knife–the Seavey accusations about Canneta, the way that meant people who were at risk were not being treated as well as they should be. Medical malpractice was something she actively worked against, but now…why was she getting a new gown when there were people in the city who couldn’t even be treated well? But no, she could do both, couldn’t she? Get a new gown and work on figuring out what was going on with Canneta. And meet her for a conversation tomorrow.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Avaliyah’s stomach lurched. Swallowing hard, she tried to push that ball of anxiety as well as the thought of the meeting out of her head. That was a problem for tonight and tomorrow, not now, she tried to remind herself. She and her mother were going to have a good day out today, finding gowns, and Avaliyah wanted to maybe take her for lunch after. Someplace classy, elegant, perfect for Nahilia Thorne. If Vali’s anxiety didn’t spiral. No. She couldn’t. Day out with her mother. Staying in the moment. More than anything else, that is what mattered.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nahilia followed her daughter through the door, the soft chime of the bell overhead marking their entrance gently. The air inside was warm and alive with scent and sound that hadn’t been fully noticeable on the outside—the faint hum of clockwork mannequins, the layered perfume of fabric dye, lavender oil, and polished oak. She paused near the entrance, her eyes adjusting to the rich amber glow of the lanterns, and allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible breath of appreciation.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her gaze fell on Avaliyah then, the light catching her daughter’s expression. More open and bright, that rare excitement that softened the guarded lines of her face that Nahilia had seen far too much of. It tugged at something deep within her, something quiet and ashamed. She would never be Voxthain’s best mother, but she could stand to do better. She knew it. “As am I,” she said softly in return, though, keeping her own anxieties and stressors from dampening her rare good mood and her daughter’s rare joy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She stepped farther in and slipped off her gloves with a practiced grace. She had told the owners that they would manage when they arrived, as Nahilia hated being doted over and led around when shopping. “You know how galas work at this point,” she said, scanning the racks of gowns that shimmered and moved, fabrics layered and positioned beautifully. “What are you thinking for this one? Design, color?”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nahilia’s fingers brushed over a display of silk organza, then a darker fabric with copper threading that reminded her faintly of the night sky above Voxthain’s higher spires. “This color would suit you,” she murmured, almost to herself, before catching her daughter’s eye. “Or don’t you usually prefer purple? Or was it green?” Nahilia didn’t want to seem imposing or as if she were making the decision for Avaliyah, nor did she want to assume blindly, but she also didn’t want to be silent and methodical as she would normally opt to be. Another bit of shame gnawed at her as she realized how little she knew her daughter anymore.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“After this, we’ll find somewhere for lunch as well if you’d like. There is a new cafe near the Lucke Museum that I have heard good things about,” she added as she tried to cover up the fumbling she was doing, the odd feeling of not being in total control and understanding a situation fully and easily.
⠀⠀⠀When the door softly shut behind them, Avaliyah turned to see her mother gracefully slip her gloves off, and she gave her one more smile, her chest tight a sudden burst of shame. Compared to Mother, Avaliyah felt like she would never amount to her example, the poise and grace Nahilia carried with her wherever she went. Meanwhile, Vali found herself elbow-deep in other peoples’ bodily fluids stitching wounds and using the warm well of magic in her chest to heal wounds. Her skirts were often covered in dirt when she trekked all over Voxthain to clinics in the lower city to help people, and while it was where she was most at ease, she sometimes still wished she naturally had her mother’s admirable poise and striking beauty. She commanded respect with such ease Vali could never hope to have.
⠀⠀⠀Around them, Vali began to softly run her hands across the fabrics, the silks calling to her as they glistened under the warm lights. Taking another deep breath, she closed her eyes, the soft, cool fabric beneath her hands. In here, with her mother, away from the bustling streets, she could almost pretend everything was normal. So badly Avaliyah wanted to enjoy today, so rare now were the outings she had with her mother, but anxiety, it lived inside her, a very deep part of her, and it was always chewing away at all moments in her life. Being unable to live in the present, her mind split like a fractured stained glass in so many directions, all the time. Canneta Clinic. I failed them–she wants to meet–the murders–Navi, it’s been too long– Grief hit, spooling in her chest as she opened her eyes. Navi in Asterath, Papa gone, but–no. No. She was here, at this moment, with Mother, elated they finally had a chance to do this.
⠀⠀⠀“I do,” Avaliyah replied, taking another breath, this time with it taking in a deep sniff of the space again. Oak, the dye, the lavender–the lavender. It cut through her, a scalpel through delicate flesh, and Avaliyah’s heart lurched as that swell of emotions pinched at her chest. No, she was not going to cry here, not going to let her mother see how much one damn scent triggered her back into days of bliss she had naively believed nothing and no one would ever wreck. Lavender in the soft curve of her neck, the divot above her collarbone, lavender in locks of dark hair, scenting the room as she would throw her jacket aside and–no. No. So they were meeting tomorrow. Great. Just great, and Vali, she would end up in a puddle on the floor again even five years later and what use was that? Some noble, some medic, she was, sitting there like this, like–her mother’s words cut through her spiraling thoughts, and Vali tilted her head back to the ceiling and released the silks, now warm from the heat of her hands.
⠀⠀⠀The lights blurred as she rapidly blinked away her tears, best she could, before licking salty lips and facing her mother again. “I was thinking purple, magenta, or blue. Maybe something frothy and glistening, like waves directly under a burst from Lantas.” The silks had been nice, but that seemed almost too informal, strangely enough, or just not exactly the look she had in mind. But tulle, glittering under the lights of the ceiling of whatever ballroom the gala would be held at, would allow her to feel like a princess of old.
⠀⠀⠀Turning to see the fabrics her mother was looking at, Vali’s breath caught at the copper threads weaving through it. Despite the worries living in her delicate mind at all hours of the day, only shutting off sometimes when she went to sleep, a smile tugged at her lips as she reverently ran the tips of her fingers across the copper threads. She agreed, the darker fabric would suit her, but she wasn’t quite certain she was aiming for something as dark yet. However, she gently gathered the dress in her arms, folding gently over the crook of her elbow to try on in the fitting rooms. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I adore that copper thread, it’s beautiful. And I do like purple! Purples and blues and magentas.” The Thorne crest and colors included the soft pale blue, and a lot of the time, Avaliyah did go with that, the light color standing out perfectly against her dark hair and warm skin. But magenta had to be her favorite color, and a deep purple soothed her, an amethyst, or a plumb. She felt like a mythological old Earth goddess in gold and a shade of purple. “What about you? You look lovely in everything, though, Mama,” she added, because oh, if this wasn't true, Vali didn’t know what was. Regal and stunning, no one got away with disregarding Nahilia Thorne. At least, Avaliyah found herself so in awe of her she couldn't imagine anyone getting away with it, anyway.
⠀⠀⠀Green. No, Mother. I didn’t wear green. But she did. With her green and gold doublets and–no. No. The grief, the heaviness in her heart, came sweeping back afresh. Ever since that message had come in, ripping at the seams of a wound Avaliyah had only managed to sew light stitches over. She had thought she’d done a good job in tying them off. Apparently, all it took was one two-minute exchange of a message for those stitches to pop and break and her blood to once again run freely, the skin throbbing where it had been torn. Right in her soul.
⠀⠀⠀Young love could go and shove itself down a dumpster, thank you very, very much.
⠀⠀⠀“Right! Design. Yes.” Absentmindedly, she shifted the dress to her other arm and began to anxiously chew on the edge of one of her nails. “Tulle. Sparkling tulle, a flowy skirt. Something to match gold jewelry, maybe? Or–” The anxiety seemed to hike as her cheeks heated, her dark eyes averting to her shoes. “Well, what if–we matched? Gown colors? We don’t have to!” She hastily added. “But it could be sweet. And just an idea, and even if not, we can find a matching piece of jewelry. Only–only if you wanted.”
⠀⠀⠀Had that been too forward? Avaliyah didn’t know. So much tension and little disagreements lay in the vast lake between her and her mother, and while some of them Avaliyah did not know how they’d ever close the gap between, others she did hold hope for. Her heart yearned for a closer relationship with her mother, and to even be here, in this shop with her, was a miracle, a sun bursting from a cloudy sky. She loved her, even when they did not agree.
⠀⠀⠀Avaliayah paused, that sunshine inside her growing, glowing warmer, enough to least burn some of the more jagged ends of her anxiety into gentle curves that temporarily evaporated. Turning, she gave her mother a smile. “I-I would love that. So much. It’s been so long, Mama. I’ve–yes. Yes! Thank you.” The urge to drop the gown and throw her arms around her surged like an electric storm through her, and her muscles tightened as she almost did it, at the last second refraining and reeling herself back in. What if she didn’t want to be hugged in public? Or really much at all? In all their busy days and not seeing eye to eye, Avaliyah had forgotten what level of affection her mother was alright with. She did not hug her much anymore, but oh, how she had always wished she had.
