Sura Ci stared at herself in the full-length mirror. At least, she stared at a young woman wearing a black silk dress, long and sleek. The narrow gap in the sides of the skirt gave a tantilizing glimpse of shapely legs, the shimmer of the cloth and cut of the bodice left little to the imagination, to say nothing of the very low neck line, which made her cleavage look astounding, even despite the glimpse of her cheap, off white bra. Though it was easy to miss that detail with the warm sparkle of gold between, hanging in a long, flat chain around her neck and the gold hoops dangling from her ears. And between the black silk and yellow gold, was her. Sure she was pretty enough, even her cynicism had to give her that. And the makeup certainly helped, eyeliner making her pale blue eyes sparkle like topaz, blush emphasizing the curve of her cheeks and pale lipstick making it look like her lips where somehow always that glossy and full, always so kissable. She could barely even notice her freckles. Or the mole beside her right eye. Or the dimple in her left nostril from a now gone nose-stud. Though she could notice the short magenta hair, a few streaks of muted teal just visible down one side.
She looked down, the colour of her hair fading to a dark metalic grey. No-one who wore clothes like this would have emotidyed hair. Still, she thought, looking back up at her reflection, her hair shifting to a light, hopeful blue. Still, she looked good. And for a second she almost believed it again, her hair shifting a little back from its hopeful blue towards its confident magenta, settling for a violet somewhere in between. Close enough, she thought, turning from the mirror.
She was in Professor Akume's room, and like the woman herself every attempt had been made at organization. The carpet, walls and furniture were all simple and white, much like the rest of the house, this room’s many, many drawers all meticuluosly labelled. Though the drawer labelled 'socks' had contained many more tights and slippers, and the 'jewelry' drawer had been mostly stuffed with botany books.
The same story of well intentioned organization played out on the vanity near the mirror, the many shapely bottles and containers neatly arranged in rows at the back, becoming more disordered in the middle and downright chaotic at the front. The eyeliner and lipstick Sura now wore had been forgotten at the back.
Sura looked down at herself again, feeilng the swish of silk and the clink of gold. She still felt bad about it, even though the Professor had said to make herself at home and not to be afraid to use anything. It had at least taken Sura a week to even enter this room, and she refused to open the 'underwear' drawer at all. With the general disorganization both of room and the woman herself she was sure Akume would never notice Sura's litte dress up. So why did she still feel so bad about it?
What really made her feel bad was the certainty that the Professor would niether notice nor care if she did. The lipstick and eyeliner had been used maybe once before, the jewelry at the bottom of a small box of disparate styles, the dress in the corner of the wardrobe under the label 'misc.' Had the Professor worn it even once? The sparse items of true luxury the woman owned seemed to have been chosen more out of responsibility than anything else, by someone who knew in theory that rich people should own these things but hadn't the faintest idea why or what for? Did she ever go to parties, dinners? She went to receive awards when Sura reminded her to, but never really seemed to care much when she did.
Sura felt she should feel angry somehow - the Professor had more money than most people dreamed of, and hadn't seemed to even noticed. Hell, the emotidye in Sura's hair was based off one of the Professor's first discoveries, the Martian Motus Flower. How many royalities did that discovery alone still give her, to say nothing of the products that came from her Europan grainveins, Venusian rockferns or Ion walking trees to name a few. More wealth than most people even dreamed of, and the woman just didn't care. Sura glanced over her shoulder to the mirror, wondering if her hair would be an angry red, seeing instead a sad grey.
A flashing light reflected off her hair, accompanied by a vibration at her wrist. Instinctively she raised her inner wrist, looking at the sleek black wristcomp's inner surface, reading who the holocall was from. She sighed nervously - but she had promised. She forced a sheepish smile, her hair brightening to a muted orange. She turned her wrist the right way up. In the air above a rectangle of light blinked into existence, shapes of red, green and blue aligning into an image of another young woman in a poorly lit room. Her face was lit by the pale light of a computer screen, making her black hair and loose black t-shirt stand out more against her pale skin and wide-eyed look of childish anticipation. Her smile dropped to open awe.
"Daaaamn, Sue" the other woman exclaimed, nodding with a self-satisfied smile, "I told you you'd look hot!"
No comments:
Post a Comment