DRESS, coriolanus snow

14, traitor.

DRESS.
( guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor. )
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miniature playlist
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i, THE NUTCRACKER - tchaivosky
ii, SKYFALL - the royal philharmonic orchestra
iii, RECKLESS - madison beer
iv, TRAITOR - olivia rodrigo

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CHARLOTTE LAID LIFELESSLY awake on her bed.

Her mind still couldn't comprehend what had happened the day before, but her heart ached for miles. The scene kept replaying in her head - the darkness of the night, the handkerchief that he used to wipe her tears, the kiss. She couldn't get it out her head even if she tried.

That night was the night of the ball. She didn't have the guts, or the energy to attend, especially not to dance with Coriolanus under the spotlight. But in the end, she didn't have a choice. The event was compulsory to all mentors, and she didn't want to discard her mother's hard work that way.

This was the first time in a while she had ever regretted speaking to someone.

The day passed by quickly, from the early morning rays to the afternoon glares. It was about time she should start getting ready, but she didn't have the heart to. Once again, she procrastinated until her mother came barging into her room, hurrying her into the bathroom to start showering.

Her mother had hired a personal stylist for Charlotte, since Tigris wanted to stay back to get Coriolanus ready. Charlotte allowed the stylist to pamper her, from her skincare, to her make up, and eventually, her hair.

She allowed the stylist to take control, only making some minor decisions every now and then. In the end, they decided on a simple makeup look - her base, glittery eyeshadow and a pinky-nude lip. Her hair was tied into an updo, to bring the attention to the dress she had picked out.

Once they were done, her stylist helped her put on her dress. The dress, undeniably the main attraction of her whole look, was black in color and had dramatic sleeves and a sleek shape. It fit her perfectly, hugging her waist, but expanding at her feet. It was about this time was she thankful she chose a black dress - because to her, black symbolized two things: the end of an era ( like death, a funeral ) and the start of a new journey ( the afterlife ).

Because in the end, that was what Charlotte was doing. Deep down, she knew she wouldn't be the same after that night.

She accessorized the dress with big hooped earrings, leaving her chest bare. Her stylist helped her slip on a pair of black heels which she had stolen from her mother's closet. When they were done, her stylist closed her eyes by covering them with the palms of her hand, leading Charlotte to her mirror.

Her stylist removed her hands from her face, clapping in excitement from behind her. Her eyes fluttered open, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips broke out in a huge grin, turning around to give her stylist a big hug. Charlotte thanked her over and over again, but she shrugged it off, telling her what a pleasure it was to work with her.

As she packed up to leave, she turned back to the mirror. The whole look was everything she'd ever wanted and more, yet something still felt missing. She knew what it was, and she knew she couldn't have it. Not for a long time.