Chương 303: Style

Elica's face was smug as a bug in a rug as she watched me try to recover my mortally-wounded composure.

"Run that by me again," I said, when I was no longer in danger of either choking or dribbling.

"You know that you leave papers all over the place, right?" Elica said.

"In the evenings between winding-down and lights-out, you tend to just spread things around and then go take your shower. And in the morning before homeroom, you're just as bad. Honestly, if I were a less scrupulous roommate I would- well, it's a good thing, is all I'm saying. Anyway, I noticed that your proposed rail map takes your trains from the southern quarter of Tumnassed, all the way through Dimnitas, Anquarry, and Woadrun. Ending at Smithleg, just shy of the Wanfarrun border.

So, if I build rail lines from Dandston down to Smithleg, then my lands become the gateway from the whole march province to the southern duchies. I've studied the treaties you've drawn for the local lords to respect your rail lines, and with help from the Brunbling marquis, I can do the same."

"Pass the salt?" Vancy called out.

"The omelet doesn't need any salt," Rinnie protested, passing the salt.

"It doesn't need it, but it enjoys it anyway," Vancy said with a small pleased smile. She salted the sliver of omelet she'd taken from my saucer, which really was overdoing it, Rinnie was right. The wilted spinach itself is very salty and tangy, the white cheese they used is also pretty salty and tangy, and egg rarely needs much salt. But Vancy took her bite with gusto so clearly she disagreed. Meanwhile I was pushing down my annoyance. First Kurumi, now this. Feels like people are cheating off my homework.

Every time someone else helps themselves to my projects, it just creates complications and makes me responsible for their outcomes as well as mine. Elica was watching me with a dissecting eye.

"Unless there is a good reason that such a project may be ill-advised?... There's not something you need to tell me about this, is there?" She didn't say it, but I could hear it. She wanted to make sure this was not all some kind of elaborate trap that I was trying to keep her out of. But, no, there was nothing like that, the only problem was my personal feelings. The plan itself was sound enought.

The path from Smithleg to Dandston does not cross the line for the Upheaval, it's not like it would be doomed by the future. I had mostly been drawing my maps as a parallel to the Upheaval, to make sure that refugees could be rescued, troops moved to key locations, supplies and materials set down where they would be needed. And then, branches heading west to access the necessary resources. Sweeping further north into Wanfarrun had not been part of my plan, only because it had not been necessary for my plan.

But there wasn't anything wrong with the idea.

"Well, there isn't anything really wrong with the idea," I admitted.

"Not that I can see. I haven't really done a study on that issue specifically. Unless there's a lot of sinkholes in the area?"

"I could check," she said without pause.

"The railways will be bringing lots of prosperity and opportunities, yes?"

"Yes." Finally, an easy question.

"So why did you stop short of Wanfarrun?" The easy question was a trap.

"Because the benefits to local economies was a low priority for the project and not part of the planning stages," I admitted.

"It serves a different purpose and that is what informed its placement. And yes it is an oversight but that doesn't mean you just invite yourself!"

"You just didn't think about it?" she said archly. A little accusatory, if I'm being honest.

"Elica, you're spoiling breakfast," Vancy scolded.

"Am not," my roommate protested.

"Do you need a tie-breaking vote?" Rinnie volunteered, looking up from the same pear-topped pancake treats that I'd sampled. Belisa looked around the table.

"This really seems like something that should not be left to fester. This could turn into a real argument if it's not resolved now." She was right, and I knew it. I nodded, and gestured Elica to continue. Elica's mouth pinched as she gave me a watered-down glare.

"I think you're just sore about this because you've got some resentment for people riding on your coattails, princess. But you do have the nicest coattails around, and I've seen the numbers on those papers. Wanfarrun needs this." I like to think that I can recognize a well-made point even when it contradicts me. I huffed a begrudging breath out.

"I do have a bad habit of reacting if I see someone borrowing my success," I admitted.

"It started out as a good habit, but you're not Quethron or Corder, and I don't need to act like your profit would take anything from me. If anything, your plan would put even more money in my pockets, profit for all."

"Thank you," she said.

"Now then, Vancy, how far are we from that stylist you recommended?" I had let her win the argument, and now everything was fine. Not only was the stylist close by, but the walk was nice as well. Larianne pointed out a specialty tack-and-bridle shop where Elica dashed in. She purchased a highly-decorated bridle for her equestrian class, with a rocker bit instead of the usual straight bar, and got fitted for a bespoke saddle, a process that looked downright scandalous to me but she took it in stride.

There was a perfumer's shop that I dragged Belisa into after it was pointed out that none of the purchases I had picked out for her at the school shop included any bottled scents. She protested, I insisted, and maybe I'm buttering her up to spy on my brother. There was also a high-end sweet shop with an amazing variety of inventory.

"We can't stay long," Elica said.

"This cannot be one of your all-day adventures, Natalie."

"Yeah yeah," I said, my stride carrying me in like I was propelled by a greater power, my eyes darting all around me, and I was unable to stop my wide grin from spreading. Behind me: "She only says 'yeah yeah' like that when she already knows she's going to ignore you."

"Should we just head on without her? She won't even notice."

"I can hear you!" I called back over my shoulder, browsing over a selection of chocolate-covered dried fruits.

"We know!" Rinnie called back, taking joy in my annoyance. I should be glad of that, it's good to have solid ground under my feet and to know that there will always be certain things I can count on. Rinnie's backtalk can be a foundation for my sense of normality. Despite their snark and sass, I was only shopping in there for fifteen minutes, and arranged the purchases to be delivered to my dorm room. We made it out of the shop, and a block later there was another chocolatier.

I started to glance in the window when a very strong hand took me by the upper arm and pulled me along.

"Not again," Belisa laughed as I wriggled in her grip.

"If you stop at every candy store in this row we'll lose even more time than the carriage ride."

"Five minutes," I said, opening negotiations. My bargaining ploy got no traction. Also, I have learned that steel-like strength is a lot more intimidating in someone that you cannot perceive. Belisa's personality makes it easy to underestimate her but I need to resolve not to do that. The hairstylist glanced over hopefully when I walked in first, but ignored me to serve a hungry look for Larianne when she stepped in. I've got waist-length hair, but neither the drape nor the body of Larianne's mane.

When Belisa came in though, the stylist's attention was only for her.

"Oh honey," she said, and waved Belisa to a seat. Ensuing conversation made it clear that the stylist was also getting 'breakup' vibes from Belisa, just like Vancy had. Also, the stylist was not a stylist, she was a coiffeuse. Also, whatever conditions Meadwhite's confederates had kept Belisa in for the past year did nothing for hair care. There was almost a foot of split ends. The scissors went snip-snip-snip, until her hair had been chased from belt-length to her shoulder-blades.

The chair was turned around so she could see herself in the mirror, and Belisa turned her head to see the new her.

"Shorter." Snipping ensued, the tops of her shoulders. The chair was turned, the mirror was consulted.

"Shorter." A bob. Belisa glared at her reflection.

"Shorter."

"If I may?" I interrupted.

"If you're looking for a drastic change..." I started conjuring. I used pearl because I had already spent mana on it earlier when I was deciding on jewelry. A pearly sphere appeared, hovering in the air, then shaped, refined, took on features, a chin and nose, a hairline, a hairstyle, and then the fine tiny details of quality sculpture, an image of a Belisa that could be.

"Perfect," she said, staring at the image with bright eyes. And that's how I invented the side-shave in Hearstwhile. It was a bit more time-consuming since there's no hair-clippers and it all needs done with scissors, but her face made up for it when we were done. Something you don't see often when someone sees their reflection in a hairdresser's mirror: relief. She was relieved to see a new her, and that felt important to me. If she had merely been 'happy', I would not be so convinced.

If she felt cute or pretty that would be okay. But she looked like this had left her unburdened in a very deep way.

"A drastic change," Elica observed as we walked out of the place.

"Breakup makeovers usually are a big change," Vancy said, her eyes were all big and watery.

"And the worse the breakup, the bigger the makeover. Oh, Belisa, I'm so sorry." Belisa paused long enough for Vancy to find her and hug her. I waited my turn: Vancy was still chalking this up to a bad relationship, but I felt like I understood this better. When I got out of prison I didn't go for the haircut, but I did start some very different makeup styles and clothing looks. I never used to tie my hair up or pull it back.

Also, I think the whole snow-white transformation took a lot of the same role as a major haircut. Breakups aren't the only trauma that you need to transform yourself to distance from. She had come out of a near-coma state to realize that she had been kidnapped, suppressed, experimented on and marked by a sociopathic thing that had intended to take her body as its own, and spend the rest of her lifespan walking around in her skin.

The face and figure she had made for herself had been stolen by something that wanted her identity for its own. She could look into a mirror and see a face that a lich would have inherited. So she needed to become someone that Meadwhite has never seen or touched, symbolically if nothing else.

"I like it," I said, when Vancy broke off the hug I moved in for one too.

"It looks tough. Dangerous." She hugged me back, gently, conscious of her strength, and I hugged her tightly, conscious of her strength. Besides, Meadwhite had meant for her to be inconspicuous. She was pretty but not traffic-stopping, pleasing but not striking. And with her hair down and plain, she could blend in. That was the plan, when he made her invisible. To make her someone that could go anywhere and always be overlooked.

But Belisa had her own plan: she might be invisible when she was moving, but when she could be seen, she intended to be seen. She was pushing back against his planned intention for her, charting a different path for herself. This was not just a makeover. This was independence, her own sense of agency, control over her life.

"You look like a ruffian," Elica said, finally, after much deliberation.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Belisa asked, wavering.

"Well, it really doesn't go with your outfit," my roommate observed.

"Could we try something with no sleeves?" So that line of questioning took us to a boutique and a rather collaborative project. We overwhelmed the clerks and tailors, there are few factors around that are quite as forceful and confusing as a group of teenaged girls who are on a mission, and affluent teenaged girls are even worse.

Belisa hardly had any time to seek anything out for herself, we mostly kept her busy reacting to our selections, a stream of Academy students that rushed up to her, asking "what about this?" and sometimes she would not even get a word out, her expression would be enough by itself. We were looking for that sense of relief we had seen in her mirror.

Elica was right and wrong about the sleeves- giving her a tough sleeveless look was a good instinct except that Belisa was extremely self-conscious about her tattoos and wanted them covered up. But a tight cotton wrist-length undershirt with a vest-cut bustier created the same effect, very 'ruffian', but fully covered. That was the base that we launched from as we built up her new wardrobe.

I had rather expected Larianne to be the expert and the guiding light, but there's too much difference between Victorian Goth and gothic-punk, she did not have the instincts for this. And as it turned out, 'punk' wasn't really where we were going- Belisa was trying to escape the lich, but there was still plenty of herself there too, and she wanted to be true to who she used to be as well. So no leather cuffs or boots. She really liked kilt-cut skirts with deep pleats or feathery tiered layers.

But it never really came together cohesively until Vancy thrust a parasol into her hands. Close but not quite there. Then she traded out the usual lightweight linen parasol for a heavier piece that could double as a walking-stick, with a polished maple-wood handle, steel ribs and wickerwork canopy. The word 'parasol' usually conjures something dainty, but this item could do double-duty as a bludgeon. Belisa handled it like it was weightless.

I have no idea why that boutique had such a unique item, but it was perfect and it pulled the whole look together. She wasn't going for any real subculture design, especially not one from a planet she had never seen. In the end, she wound up with a style that was all her own, and that was exactly what she needed. For damn sure, she was no longer Nathan's [Tragic Damsel], and she was quickly becoming her own woman again. The thing about breaking is that it never goes away.

Broken is past tense, and even if we escape the past we do not unmake it. A plate that is repaired is still the plate that had been broken. Her label did not change, but it did take new meaning. The Broken would find herself. The four of us split the bill since we had all chosen parts of it and we had all insisted on helping her out. Belisa tried not to look self-conscious about letting her wealthy friends take care of her. Rinnie nudged her and said, "Don't get too excited.

They always draw the line at buying you jewelry." After this, I talked them into giving me a half-hour at the next confection shop, and my day was going great.