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“Suletta,” Miorine snapped, “what’s taking so long in there?”
“J-J-Just a minute, Ms. Miorine!” Suletta’s voice was muffled through the door to Miorine’s bedroom, where she’d been holed up in silence for almost ten minutes.
“I only had two dresses that fit you. Pick one and show me!”
“O-okay!” came Suletta’s high-pitched, almost choked reply.
Miorine went back to fiddling with her hairpiece, grumbling wordlessly under her breath, leg bouncing impatiently. As insistent as Suletta had been that they go to the incubation party, she’d been a nervous wreck since they started getting ready. Which wasn’t altogether unusual, but it begged the question of why Suletta wanted to do this so badly.
For that matter, Miorine thought, why am I doing this? These parties were a waste of time. Worse, by attending she’d be implicitly ceding ground to her rotten father, making an appearance alongside the Holder in full view of all the elites of the Benerit group. She should have stood her ground and shut Suletta down the moment she brought it up.
Miorine paused, considering her reflection in the mirror. She huffed out a quiet laugh. As if that had ever been a possibility. Suletta had insisted, and here she was, dressing up for the first time in months to go look pretty for a bunch of people she hated.
And one I don’t.
She quashed that quiet, soft thought as soon as she could, stomach twisting. Suletta only wanted to go because she was all worried over that Ceres boy, even after that creep had tried to take Aerial from her. Miorine was … secondary. A chaperone.
There was a soft click as the bedroom door slid open. “Finally,” Miorine sighed, spinning around in her chair.
The door was open, but Suletta was cowering out of sight, only her eyes and her unruly mane poking out. Under other circumstances it might have been cute, but Miorine’s patience was wearing thin. She crossed her arms and gave Suletta an expectant look. Her groom met her eyes and let out a strangled yelp before ducking her head back around the corner. Miorine suppressed a groan. “Come on, let’s see it,” she ordered.
Suletta cowered in silence.
Miorine was about to get up and drag her out of hiding herself when she finally got a response. “Um … promise you won’t laugh?” Suletta’s voice was quiet and apprehensive
“Eh?” Miorine called back, wincing inwardly as Suletta flinched at the harsh sound. “Don’t be stupid,” she continued, trying to soften her tone, “why would I laugh at you?”
Suletta audibly inhaled, exhaled, then stepped into view. The red dress she’d chosen had been a floor-length gown on Miorine, and always a little too big, but it lay just right on Suletta’s frame. Or it would, if she would stop slouching and pulling at the fabric like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She shifted her weight awkwardly back and forth, staring at the floor, red hair spilling over hunched and tense shoulders. “I-I-I’ve never worn something like this before,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t sure if I put it on right.”
“Well, I can’t tell with you slouching like that. Stand up straight and give me a spin.”
“A … spin?”
“Don’t tell me you spent your childhood rotting your brain with Earthian TV and you never saw a show where a girl gets ready for a dance. You know.” Miorine twirled her finger in the air. “A spin.”
"O-oh! Like, to show it off." Suletta hesitated - was she blushing? - then visibly forced herself to stop fidgeting, stood up straight, and spun on her heel. The hem of the dress flared out, swishing about her legs. The red fabric framed her bare shoulders perfectly, just as the middle hugged her waist. It was a little tight, but not too tight, and -
Was she staring? She was staring, wasn't she. Miorine nodded decisively, schooling her expression into flat neutrality and hoping she wasn't going red in the face. “Ideally we would get one tailored, but … it looks good on you.”
Suletta had finished her spin by tripping over her own feet and was already slouching again. “A-a-are you sure?”
Miorine fixed her with a glare. “Huh? I said it looks good on you, didn’t I?”
“S-sorry!”
Miorine pushed a spare chair out from the desk, then feigned interest in the selection of jewelry she'd laid out while she willed the warmth in her cheeks to die down. “Now we just need to do something about your hair.”
“Oh!” Suletta tugged at one of her curls “I was just going to wear it like I usually do.”
“Out of the question. Get over here.”
When Suletta didn’t immediately obey, Miorine jumped up from her seat, brushing the wrinkles out of her blue cocktail dress (she had been ready fifteen minutes ago). She grabbed her suddenly hesitant groom by the shoulders and steered her over to the chair she’d pulled out. “Sit.”
Suletta sat.
Miorine pulled her chair up next to Suletta’s. There was a mirror set up at the desk, along with a spread of brushes, products, and accessories. She selected a brush from amongst the array, feeling suddenly and infuriatingly shy. She had never done something like this - that would require having siblings, or friends, or - or whatever Suletta was to her. It was, objectively, a low-stakes operation, and Miorine understood the basic theory - she could style her own hair, of course - but doing it for someone else? Never. More than that, this felt intimate in a way that she was acutely unused to.
Their eyes met in the reflection. Suletta quickly dropped her gaze into her lap.
The pause that followed was tense. Miorine was uncomfortably aware of her own heartbeat. The brush hovered centimeters from Suletta’s red mane.
This was absurd. Miorine’s jaw clenched, and she forced herself to seize the initiative. She reached past Suletta to prop her notebook up on a can of hairspray and flicked the screen to reveal the hairstyle reference photos she’d been scanning while Suletta was dawdling in her bedroom. Suletta brightened, and Miorine’s uncharacteristic anxiety began to drain away. “Oh, cute!” Suletta chirped, flicking through the images.
Miorine allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. “See? Now, hold still.”
They settled into a more comfortable silence, and Miorine went to work brushing the knots out of Suletta’s curls. Her hair was thick and soft, and the subtle floral scent of her shampoo was already growing to be a familiar comfort.
Miorine let Suletta’s hair weave between her fingers, wondering how long it had been since she’d had someone in her life she could trust like Suletta. Was it never? It might have been never.
Suletta let her head tilt to the side, nuzzling into Miorine’s touch with a contented sigh. Miorine was silently grateful Suletta was keeping her eyes closed - she didn’t have to hide the blush that colored her cheeks.
Maybe they needed to get ready for parties more often.
“Miorine,” Suletta murmured after some time had passed.
“Hm?” Miorine had been intent on taming Suletta’s curls with an array of bobby pins.
“Thank you,” she said. “Y-you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“Stupid,” she chided. “I wasn’t about to let my groom wander into an event like this without looking presentable.”
Suletta smiled, and the warmth that blossomed in Miorine’s chest was almost more than she could bear.
It was a minute or two before Suletta spoke again, and only after a few false starts, her shoulders tensing up again. “Do you think … ah …” She quietly stuttered out a few wordless syllables, and then her voice trailed off into silence. Miorine looked up from her work, glancing at their faces in the mirror. The unspoken question hung in the air between them.
“Do I think … ?” Miorine prodded.
Suletta didn’t look up from her lap, but Miorine caught her wistful smile. “I-It’s nothing,” she said softly.
“Mm.” Miorine couldn’t help glancing at Suletta’s expression out of the corner of her eye as she continued to work, her mind racing. Did she think … what? Suletta had a far-off look on her face, and she wore a pained half-smile. Her hands were in her lap, pulling at the loose fabric. What was she thinking about?
(Thoughts rushed unbidden through her mind about Suletta’s wish-list, in particular the clause on ‘dates’. Was there a line item for school dances? Did she … would she want …)
It took a moment, then the realization came with an unwelcome pang of heartache. Ah. Right, she thought bitterly. Not what, who. Miorine wanted to kick herself. She had gotten so caught up in the moment that she’d forgotten what the entire purpose of this operation was.
So it was with a vague, sinking feeling that she pinned the last lock of Suletta’s hair in place, tucking the gold tiara she’d selected into her up-do. Then she let her hands rest on the warm, bare skin of Suletta’s shoulders - she couldn’t let herself read into the tremor that ran down Suletta’s back, not now - and peered around her groom’s head to observe her handiwork.
From the day they met, Miorine had struggled to describe Suletta Mercury. She was an earnest, anxious student; a handsome and confident pilot …
… But in that moment, wearing Miorine’s dress and a shy smile, she was a princess who didn’t realize how beautiful she was.
Miorine gave Suletta’s shoulder a squeeze. “If Elan doesn’t pay you a proper compliment in the first minute he sees you,” she said with as much cool confidence as she could muster, “I’ll shove him out an airlock.”
A beat of silence followed.
“Huh?” Suletta said.
Miorine did a double-take. “What do you mean, ‘huh’?”
Suletta’s face went through a bewildering array of expressions and turned an interesting shade of red as she stammered out a response. “M-M-Miorine, I-I-I wasn’t going to say - I don’t want - h-he isn’t -” she dropped her face into her hands with a miserable groan. “Y-you don’t have to push him out an airlock,” she finally mumbled through her fingers.
Miorine’s mind went back into overdrive, turning over whatever had just happened for clues. She gave Suletta’s shoulder a tentative, resigned pat, feeling like she had just missed something vital.
"I reserve the right to push him out an airlock," she said, for the sake of saying something, "but I will only do so with the approval of my groom."
Their eyes met in the mirror again. “Thanks, Ms. Miorine,” Suletta said, but she still had that far-off look and wistful smile and what did it mean -
But Miorine couldn’t dwell on that. She forced her own smile and got to her feet. “No thanks needed. Now, come one, we’re going to be late.” She took Suletta’s hand in hers, pulled her gently to her feet, and when their eyes met again her groom’s face was all eager determination. The rest of their preparations went by in a blur - and all Miorine could think about was what Suletta hadn’t said, and all the things she wanted to tell her.
I know we made a deal, Suletta. I know this was supposed to be temporary, an alliance of convenience. I was supposed to escape to Earth, I wasn’t supposed to -
Her chest ached. She couldn’t hide it from herself any longer.
Damn it.
I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.