Matthildur (tjara) wrote in 400words,


Isabel was trying her hardest to appear happy and sophisticated at the same time. If she was feeling either it might have worked but her hands were shaking with nervousness. In the full length mirror she looked scared and insecure. She raised her head as her mother came up from behind and immediately started pulling at the laces that tied up the inner layer of her dress’ bodice. It was terribly tight and uncomfortable but Isabel’s only complaints was a slight yelp.
“Stop that, you must look your best for the wedding,” her mother scolded, shaking her head. “He does not need to marry you so you must do whatever you can to make this arrangement worth it to him.” She continued with what had become like a daily lecture about what Isabel had to do to be the perfect wife. Meanwhile, Isabel focused on finding a new rhythm for her breathing, murmuring in agreement with her mother when it was expected.

When the final preparations were done, Isabel barely recognised herself. Her dark brown hair was pulled up and at the back of her head neatly, the odd curled strands allowed to hang loose. The dress was low cut and after all the fastening of the lace she was pleasantly surprised with her cleavage. Her mother had lent her a beautiful pearl necklace but had ruined the moment by demanding she give it back the soonest she could. The wedding gown itself was stunning, sky blue made out of the loveliest silk. Although Isabel’s waist did not seem much smaller, it accentuated it nicely nontheless. Moving was like having your feet tied together and not being able to breathe, but knowing she looked so well had put her in much better spirits.

The carriage stopped right outside the sturdy iron gate that presumably led up to the de Vries mansion. Isabel was a little curious and looked out the window. She had never visited the house she would come to live in from this day onward. “Isabel, listen to me now!” her mother snapped, grabbing her hand and pulled her closer. “It is of the upmost importance that you do everything you are told and make sure that when you absolutely must speak up, be heard. Do not embarass your family name.”
After her mother was gone Isabel waited patiently for her father to see her. This was her last hour as a Gabouer and she was about to be handed over to another man.

The walks down the path was a bit of a haze, she could not fully appreciate this new environment as her eyes locked on the arched entrance to the mansion and the crowd within. She could feel more and more eyes on her and she sunk a little into her father’s frame. A gentle nudge reminded her of her role and she straightened up instantly, faking the confidence she did not posess at that moment. Before her head could get around this immense attention she was in front of Dimitrie de Vries. The two men exchanged some words but Isabel used the moment to appreciate how solid he looked. This was the closest she had been to him to date and he really did seem to be as handsom as he was rich. There was only one thing, he was not smiling.


"The living dead don't do dishes!" - not sure where this one's from, but I saw it on an LJ icon a while ago :P

End of summer
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