Kaled walked the wide streets of Luthadel, bustling with activity. Crowds of well dressed noble-born modestly jostling towards a window here and there to peruse its contents. Amongst them were the skaa - mostly hidden amongst the shadows of alley ways. Protected by a thin sheath of shade.
He felt sorry for those. While he lived the high life, treated as an equal to these vultures, the skaa lived in squalor. Almost always with that thought came that guilty conscience, telling him he should be down there in shadows too. Hiding from who and what he really was.
On the main thorough-fare there was a small shop, sign inlaid with lacey gold bordering the deep violet lettering announced where Kaled had been sent. Earlier, his half-sister, Aurele, demanded Kaled seek out this particular store for the dress he would have the intuition of picking out.
After a brief arguement, and which Kaled still wasn't sure how he'd let her win - probably those thighs she revealed - he'd conceded. He never was good with women. There had been only one.
Hand on brass door handle, thumb tensed to depress the clasp, he tried to dispel a memory. It was difficult but sucking in air, he entered. It really was a small shop, no giving to otherwise on the outside.
Each wall was lined with orderly stacks of courtly dresses, fit for any noble ball. Similarly, the floors and ceilings were clean, waxed to a stately finish. The counter, behind which the proprietor stood - a waxy model herself, too doll like that Kaled mistook her for a life size wax work in a floral pink and white dress - was of a finished wood and cut to standard.
Kaled felt himself being hit in the gut by the candied perfection. He glanced towards the women behind the counter wondering if she polished the floors after everyone visited. Probably did. Some people had strange quirks like that.
Realising he looked hesitant, standing there like a mouse shocked to find it had been tricked, he began to work out a requisition, almost stumbling over the words. He did manage to explain the type of dress he was looking for - quickly correcting it to a relative - and the size. Though he wasn't sure if he'd related that last part accurately.
What was he doing in this place? That blasted woman.
Edited by Lyrebon, 20 November 2011 - 11:50 PM.