they say you're a saint, you're a whore, you're a sinner
After a brief discussion (ahem) in Martel's offices at the palace earlier, Maryani managed to tug him along to the dressmaker's with her. Nourelle's adulthood had been kept off long enough, and she'd requested and had tailored a dress to suit her daughter's age. Most people kept thinking Maryani was the girl's sister, not her mother, which would' ( Read more... )
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Whether or not Martel finds these little private jokes amusing usually depends on his mood and present situation -- today his mood is varying from moment to moment, but 'distracted' seems to cover it for the main. He tucks his hand at Maryani's elbow and tries not to look as though he'd rather slit his own throat than spend much more time here.
It's also much harder to judge whether or not he'll disapprove of the dress when he can't see how it'll look on, and she can probably see him trying to figure it out in his head, scrutinizing the gown in front of him with a look personally unique.
There's someone else entering behind them who'll recognize it almost as well. Some things simply aren't forgotten.
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What she probably won't recognize is the golden-skinned woman laughing into Martel's shoulder. Maryani finds that expression sort of endearing, and nudges him with her hip to give him an idea of how the dress will hang--by indicating on herself. "I know you find this tedious, darling, but it's important to a girl her age."
Maryani refrains from mentioning anything about Khalad, because she would actually like to get the thing out of the store without anyone requesting ten extra inches of fabric be adding to it.
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"I find it tedious because it is tedious," he says, mutinous and steadfastly ignoring the varying looks they're on the receiving end of from the seamstress. He disentangles to hold the dress against Maryani herself, for an idea, and when he turns--
Petrana of Gatas does not smile when their eyes meet. "My Lord."
He tells himself he's imagining the familiarity of intonation, his grip on the fabric slipping and then clenching reflexively, and he's wrong.
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Maryani only hesitates for a split second before turning to Petrana with an uncertain, but nevertheless friendly smile. "Hello! Are you and Martel acquainted?"
She gathers yes, and not positively, but assuming control over the situation is her instinct here.
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