The stars are mansions built by Nature’s hand,
And, haply, there the spirits of the blest
Dwell, clothed in radiance, their immortal vest;
Huge Ocean shows, within his yellow strand,
A habitation marvellously planned,
For life to occupy in love and rest …

Twisting a strand of her dark hair, Faye tucked it place with a pin. Stepping back, she blew out a breath and checked herself out in the mirror. Faye frowned. The hair was wrong and it bothered her. He’s not going to care what your hair looks like, she chided herself. Grabbing a brush, she brushed out the twists and gathered her hair into a ponytail. Securing it with an elastic, she split open the hair between the elastic and her head, creating a hole. Lifting the the lower part of the ponytail up over and through, it twisted under itself, her hair forming a V and falling in loose waves to her shoulders. There. Kiama was right. If she wasn’t comfortable with how she wore the garments and stuff then she would come across as wearing a costume.

Applying her makeup, her eyelids were dark and her lids heavy with mascara. The only other accent was the red-black lipstick she preferred.

Slipping on the dress over her undergarments, Faye pulled the invisible zipper up the back halfway before switching one hand over her shoulder to pull the zipper the rest of the way. It was a sage green silk taffeta, the fabric luxurious and crisp, with a two tone iridescent shift in gold. It hadn’t been intentional when she had first seen it but now she realized it was luminescent like Dag’s skin and it made her smile. With wide straps, the neckline came straight down before sweeping in curves over her chest. From the centre of the sweetheart neckline were a row of tiny decorative buttons covered in the same fabric as the dress running down to her waistline. The full skirt flowed from her narrow waist, creating an illusion she had slightly more curves than she actually did, folding around her legs ending mid-shin. It was almost demure, this dress, even with the slightly revealing neckline. The borrowed heavy necklace from Kiama (a silver and clear stoned filigree piece made up for stylized flowers) and followed the neckline of the dress perfectly and enhanced this prettiness.

But then that rebel part of Faye naturally had to have her say. No delicate shoes for her, no. Instead she wore black leather knee high boots with groups of parallel lines stitched perpendicularly into the leather at alternating angles and had a tall heel that was thin enough to match the style of the dress but sturdy enough she wouldn’t collapse in it (she had practiced). The tops of the boots disappeared under the skirt.

Slipping on black leather fingerless gloves that looped around her middle fingers, they had small teardrop shapes cut into them that formed flowers.

Grabbing a black shawl and draping it over her arms, she carried a small gold clutch purse that carried a few essentials like her combadge (emergencies only), her lipstick, vial of grounding essential oils and a few other odds and ends.

Standing in front of the mirror, Faye stood in mountain pose with her eyes closed. When she opened them, her first thought was, I look good! And she did. She thought she looked like a princess and that made her think of Doctor Ryley when she was on the Atlantis. He had done the neurosurgery to remove the microdevice from her brainstem and had done her physical rehab with her. He used to call her Princess and every time she had given him a withering look. This time she just grinned. And in her mind she gathered all the people who ever made her feel like s$!t, did a twirl in front of the mirror and looked again at herself. Take a good look because you don’t get any of this.

Nodding to herself in the mirror, Faye smiled and headed for the door. Stepping out of her suite and into the hallway, it was precisely 1850.

[Credit: William Wordsworth, ‘The Stars are Mansions Built by Nature’s Hand’.]

~Faye Calloway