Be Yourself
Jun. 13th, 2011 08:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
museworks((This was something I had written a while back for Alinor's previous incarnation, but it's still true to the new. Just a small personal story showing a bit of her family dynamic.))
The young woman tugged her dress up at the chest, the strapless garment not finding a good deal of support from her rather slender physique. Her reflection in the full-length, gold-framed mirror only encouraged her frustration, showing not only her fidgeting efforts but just how ridiculous she looked. At least, in her own mind she looked ridiculous; she also didn't doubt she looked so to the other females present. She wasn't herself at all.
Her mother's voice cut through her thoughts. "Stand up straight, don't slouch. This is a very important evening for all of us, especially your older sister."
The sister in question glanced back at Alinor before turning back to her own mirror. "I don't see why she has to come anyway, Mother. Obviously she doesn't want to go, and she doesn't add anything to this event except for those people who remember that whole incident with Jor'edil."
Alinor's face darkened as she looked in the mirror at her sister's reflection; she didn't particularly care to be reminded of that incident, nor the young man in question. She opened her mouth to reply but was silenced by a sharp pinch on her arm, before her mother's hand firmly turned her head by the chin. "Be that as it may, Malinde, it also reminds people of your sister's status as a Magistrix, and we can use that status to our advantage," replied the older woman, as she picked up a small glass container and a slender, tiny-tipped brush.
"Is that before or after I manage to trip over the hem of my dress and spill my wine on some important person?" Alinor asked wryly, though she obediently turned her eyes toward the ceiling to help her mother's efforts with cosmetics. She tried not to blink as she felt the dainty brush add a thin line of color around her eyes; personally she felt such efforts were futile at best.
"Don't be ridiculous. Watch yourself in the mirrors around when we get there, be mindful of your dress, and don't say a word about your hobbies. If they ask about your studies and status, speak briefly. Speak only when spoken to, and direct conversation back to Malinde. We are here for her, and as I said, your arcane doings are just another useful tool. We're as accomplished as any nobly-born family, it's only fitting that we earn a place among them--"
"You mean buy a title-- ow!"
Her mother's hand dealt a light but stinging slap to one cheek; after what seemed to be a moment of thought another one was given to the girl's other cheek. Alinor glanced at the mirror again to see a little more color on her face as a result; that must have been the reason for the second slap. "There is nothing wrong with making use of our advantages, remember that! I'm just glad we finally have a use for you in this. You may be plain, but you're smart-- so act like it and think of what you can do for Malinde."
Alinor flushed, her face turning a dull, unbecoming pink. She plopped into the dressing-table chair only to feel her mother's hand jerk her back to her feet with a hissed command to sit gracefully. With an internal sigh the young mage smoothed her hands down the back of her legs then sat with exaggerated care, one hand soon enough coming back up to tug at the front of her dress. A firm hand on her shoulder kept her from slipping into her habitual slouching posture.
"Are you sure there's no other dress for me to wear, Mother?" asked the young woman, her reddish brows drawing together over her eyes as she looked at her reflection. "This one doesn't fit me."
"Nonsense," came the reply. "It's not that the dress doesn't fit you, Alinor, you don't fit the dress."
As her mother continued to apply cosmetics to her face Alinor studied herself; she was, in fact, plain as her mother said. That was an unavoidable fact, and something that had been pretty much hammered into her since she was little. Plain, slender without even at least being graceful or sylphlike, awkward-- the antithesis, she felt, to what her mother had wanted in a daughter. Luckily enough Alinor had two sisters were were quite lovely, but it seemed her joy in her accomplishments as a mage was going to be diminished somewhat by being just another tool to help Malinde marry well.
Alinor was resigned to that fact, though. As her mother often said, there was nothing wrong with making use of advantages. For once her mind was exactly that; she could quietly impress people with her intellect, her arcane accomplishments, let them see her as an advantage for Quel'thalas as the rebuilding continued even to this day. Admittedly she tended to be a bit more mercenary these days, but she supposed others didn't need to know that. She would deftly shift attention to her sibling, thus showing one could be connected to an individual of potential importance yet not need to compromise when it came to aesthetics. Why do I do this? I've earned the rank of Magistrix, I lived and learned among the Kirin Tor, I earn a nice bit of gold for myself, why do I let Mother treat me this way?
She knew the answer. Because she's my mother and it's how I was raised. Some things are just too ingrained. I can't tell her no when she's hoping so much for something like this, and it's just one evening of annoyance. Until more evenings, of course, but for now...just this once.
"Don't frown, Alinor, you'll create wrinkles. Be careful not to blush, you can't do so as prettily as your sisters. Don't smile so much either, you'll look like you're grimacing since you don't have Leania's dimples. Just...try to look dignified, that might be best. Don't talk about your tinkering, they won't care. Don't speak of your mage-ing in detail, they don't care about details, just that you're accomplished and a credit to the Sin'dorei. There, you look at least a little presentable now, go find your father and get the invitations from him before he loses them."
The mage, carefully keeping her face blank as best she could, made her way out of her sister's dressing-room where they had been getting ready for the party. A light tap on her shoulder made her jump; her father stood close behind her, smiling slightly as he handed her a small envelope with the party invitations contained therein.
"Your mother means well, Alinor," he said before giving her a kiss on the forehead. "She's just wound up because she thinks this whole thing is important for your sister, and it helps her to think about that instead of other things."
"By 'other things' you mean pretty much anything outside of her immediate sphere of attention in Silvermoon City," she replied dryly. Her father shrugged in reply.
"I love your mother dearly, but I've learned to not take her seriously. You need to learn that as well. She's got your sisters to dress up like dolls, just don't listen to her and be yourself."
Alinor smiled faintly. "She won't like that."
Once again her father shrugged, and gave her another kiss on the forehead. "She talks about using advantages-- well, you're an advantage just being yourself. Every family needs its eccentric, after all. It adds color."
"I don't know..."
"My dear girl, if you're ever going to stop being stubborn and listen to me, do it now. Be yourself." The words were said sternly, but soon lightened with a smile. She couldn't help but smile back. "There we go, there's a smile! She's wrong, you know, you have a lovely one. Now, I seem to recall you building some different mechanical pets...wouldn't that be quite a novelty for a party?"
Alinor grinned again, turning a pleased pink at the rare recognition of her hobbies and excitement about showing such off rather than pretending otherwise, then gathered her skirts up to run off to her rooms. She didn't stop to look at herself in any mirrors on the way, but if she had she'd have seen that, for once, she blushed quite prettily.
The young woman tugged her dress up at the chest, the strapless garment not finding a good deal of support from her rather slender physique. Her reflection in the full-length, gold-framed mirror only encouraged her frustration, showing not only her fidgeting efforts but just how ridiculous she looked. At least, in her own mind she looked ridiculous; she also didn't doubt she looked so to the other females present. She wasn't herself at all.
Her mother's voice cut through her thoughts. "Stand up straight, don't slouch. This is a very important evening for all of us, especially your older sister."
The sister in question glanced back at Alinor before turning back to her own mirror. "I don't see why she has to come anyway, Mother. Obviously she doesn't want to go, and she doesn't add anything to this event except for those people who remember that whole incident with Jor'edil."
Alinor's face darkened as she looked in the mirror at her sister's reflection; she didn't particularly care to be reminded of that incident, nor the young man in question. She opened her mouth to reply but was silenced by a sharp pinch on her arm, before her mother's hand firmly turned her head by the chin. "Be that as it may, Malinde, it also reminds people of your sister's status as a Magistrix, and we can use that status to our advantage," replied the older woman, as she picked up a small glass container and a slender, tiny-tipped brush.
"Is that before or after I manage to trip over the hem of my dress and spill my wine on some important person?" Alinor asked wryly, though she obediently turned her eyes toward the ceiling to help her mother's efforts with cosmetics. She tried not to blink as she felt the dainty brush add a thin line of color around her eyes; personally she felt such efforts were futile at best.
"Don't be ridiculous. Watch yourself in the mirrors around when we get there, be mindful of your dress, and don't say a word about your hobbies. If they ask about your studies and status, speak briefly. Speak only when spoken to, and direct conversation back to Malinde. We are here for her, and as I said, your arcane doings are just another useful tool. We're as accomplished as any nobly-born family, it's only fitting that we earn a place among them--"
"You mean buy a title-- ow!"
Her mother's hand dealt a light but stinging slap to one cheek; after what seemed to be a moment of thought another one was given to the girl's other cheek. Alinor glanced at the mirror again to see a little more color on her face as a result; that must have been the reason for the second slap. "There is nothing wrong with making use of our advantages, remember that! I'm just glad we finally have a use for you in this. You may be plain, but you're smart-- so act like it and think of what you can do for Malinde."
Alinor flushed, her face turning a dull, unbecoming pink. She plopped into the dressing-table chair only to feel her mother's hand jerk her back to her feet with a hissed command to sit gracefully. With an internal sigh the young mage smoothed her hands down the back of her legs then sat with exaggerated care, one hand soon enough coming back up to tug at the front of her dress. A firm hand on her shoulder kept her from slipping into her habitual slouching posture.
"Are you sure there's no other dress for me to wear, Mother?" asked the young woman, her reddish brows drawing together over her eyes as she looked at her reflection. "This one doesn't fit me."
"Nonsense," came the reply. "It's not that the dress doesn't fit you, Alinor, you don't fit the dress."
As her mother continued to apply cosmetics to her face Alinor studied herself; she was, in fact, plain as her mother said. That was an unavoidable fact, and something that had been pretty much hammered into her since she was little. Plain, slender without even at least being graceful or sylphlike, awkward-- the antithesis, she felt, to what her mother had wanted in a daughter. Luckily enough Alinor had two sisters were were quite lovely, but it seemed her joy in her accomplishments as a mage was going to be diminished somewhat by being just another tool to help Malinde marry well.
Alinor was resigned to that fact, though. As her mother often said, there was nothing wrong with making use of advantages. For once her mind was exactly that; she could quietly impress people with her intellect, her arcane accomplishments, let them see her as an advantage for Quel'thalas as the rebuilding continued even to this day. Admittedly she tended to be a bit more mercenary these days, but she supposed others didn't need to know that. She would deftly shift attention to her sibling, thus showing one could be connected to an individual of potential importance yet not need to compromise when it came to aesthetics. Why do I do this? I've earned the rank of Magistrix, I lived and learned among the Kirin Tor, I earn a nice bit of gold for myself, why do I let Mother treat me this way?
She knew the answer. Because she's my mother and it's how I was raised. Some things are just too ingrained. I can't tell her no when she's hoping so much for something like this, and it's just one evening of annoyance. Until more evenings, of course, but for now...just this once.
"Don't frown, Alinor, you'll create wrinkles. Be careful not to blush, you can't do so as prettily as your sisters. Don't smile so much either, you'll look like you're grimacing since you don't have Leania's dimples. Just...try to look dignified, that might be best. Don't talk about your tinkering, they won't care. Don't speak of your mage-ing in detail, they don't care about details, just that you're accomplished and a credit to the Sin'dorei. There, you look at least a little presentable now, go find your father and get the invitations from him before he loses them."
The mage, carefully keeping her face blank as best she could, made her way out of her sister's dressing-room where they had been getting ready for the party. A light tap on her shoulder made her jump; her father stood close behind her, smiling slightly as he handed her a small envelope with the party invitations contained therein.
"Your mother means well, Alinor," he said before giving her a kiss on the forehead. "She's just wound up because she thinks this whole thing is important for your sister, and it helps her to think about that instead of other things."
"By 'other things' you mean pretty much anything outside of her immediate sphere of attention in Silvermoon City," she replied dryly. Her father shrugged in reply.
"I love your mother dearly, but I've learned to not take her seriously. You need to learn that as well. She's got your sisters to dress up like dolls, just don't listen to her and be yourself."
Alinor smiled faintly. "She won't like that."
Once again her father shrugged, and gave her another kiss on the forehead. "She talks about using advantages-- well, you're an advantage just being yourself. Every family needs its eccentric, after all. It adds color."
"I don't know..."
"My dear girl, if you're ever going to stop being stubborn and listen to me, do it now. Be yourself." The words were said sternly, but soon lightened with a smile. She couldn't help but smile back. "There we go, there's a smile! She's wrong, you know, you have a lovely one. Now, I seem to recall you building some different mechanical pets...wouldn't that be quite a novelty for a party?"
Alinor grinned again, turning a pleased pink at the rare recognition of her hobbies and excitement about showing such off rather than pretending otherwise, then gathered her skirts up to run off to her rooms. She didn't stop to look at herself in any mirrors on the way, but if she had she'd have seen that, for once, she blushed quite prettily.
