Meora HarrowgroveSilver slid down Meora's body like the foamy tips of a crashing wave, and pooled at her feet, the fabric shushing and shimmering gently every time she made even the slightest of movements. Admiring herself, she watched the gleaming reflection that glinted at her from the mirror world, watched as its hands gripped the material, watched as it swished the dress about, light refracting throughout the long store of gown upon gown upon gown. Tidily her hair had been slipped from her face, slicked into a secure bun at the nape of her neck, coils of graphite-grey rope twisted, serpentine, across the red-ember tresses. Her face had been encrusted with scatters of glitter that caught the light in such a way that she seemed to be an ethereal star, fallen to earth, shining. It was perfect! This is exactly what she had wanted! Grinning at her handmaids, she suddenly erupted into a spinning body of elation, twirling and whirling on the spot until the sickly clutches of dizziness rattled her brain more than she could bear, her dance, a flurry of silver and sparkles, coming to a halt. Everything was perfect and the ball would be absolutely breath-taking and Soeri could not ruin a thing! So consumed with excitement, she could not hear the slap, slap, slap of footsteps against the carpeted corridors outside, nor the soft breathing and whispers of the two people behind the doorway.
Without prior warning, the chamber doors burst open, a breathe of air sweeping through the enormous room, blasting Meora's startled face with warm air that blew the fabric tightly against her body in a hushing, hissing mass. When she could finally blink open her eyes, squinted in surprise, she found her brother standing in the square cut of sunlight by the door, half-naked, smiling brilliantly at her.
"Brother?" She asked, smiling back at him, confusion laced in her wide eyes, "What is it you wa-?"
Disallowing her to finish, Xander rushed towards her, drawing his little sister into his arms quickly as though he had not spoken to her in a while, which she guessed was mildly true; father had kept her busy a lot this week...But that was no excuse for him to go about wrinkling her new robe! Hurriedly, Meora shoved him with as much force as she could allow herself to show -
I cannot reveal too much of my secret strength, she thought, ashamed - enough to keep him a decent distance from her outfit.
"What do you think you're doing? This is my dress for the ball, Xander, and you're going to ruin it!" Snapped Meora, though she found a sly grin creeping along the corners of her lips secretively; she really had missed her elder brother.
"
How could you? Preferring a mere frock to your dear, old brother?" Xander mocked her shocked expression teasingly, finding that his little sister playfully bat him away, "
But it is a fine dress isn't it?" He leaned back, as if to examine her, "
And you look simply divine in it, sister, if I may be so bold." At this he bowed before her, grinning jovially.
"Do you really like it?" Once more, Meora spun on the spot over and over again, loving the whisper of the gown as it caressed the air itself. As she danced about, she saw something flicker at the doorway. Was that red hair? Was there a scar marring that once-beautiful face?
Soeri! She came to an abrupt halt, only to find that it was the doll Emma that stood there, Xander's doll, the vampire one. For seconds, all the girl could do was stare at her, nerved by her appearance. A doll. Just like herself. Could she sense that they were the same? Could she tell? Would she reveal this to Xander, to the world, to anyone? Panic bubbled like a hiccuping stream, unable to be suppressed.
Meora swallowed, "Xander...What is it that you and - and Emma want?"
Noticing his sister's anxious state, the man placed his hands on her shoulders gently, so as not to startle her, and spoke with a voice of silk, "
The ball is soon, is it not? All dear Emma and I wanted was to borrow a dress, if you may be so kind as to lend us one? You would not mind would you?" The girl stared straight past him, into those wide, nervous eyes and forced a gentle smile, despite that her blood was also trembling within her veins.
"Of course, that's fine, brother."
"
Excellent!" Xander swiftly turned to look at his Emma and Meora felt the flutters of butterflies swarm riotously as both dolls' gazes accidentally collided. Embarrassed, she turned away to her handmaids, not daring to venture yet another look in that direction, as Xander led the other doll into the treasure trove of ballgowns.
"
Here, this is the red section! You can pick any one that you like, love, alright?"
All the while, Meora could feel the cold, prickling sensation of someone's eyes boring holes into the back of her head, but she could not tell who they belonged to, only that they sent shivers up her spine like the clattering keys of a piano.