C’est le bordel.
This is a mess.
She could barely feel the oxygen circulate to her lungs as her small frame was practically forced into the even smaller frame of the dress. "Excuse me. This doesn't fit,"
the brunette's voice came out soft and timid, as if afraid of speaking out to the seamstress at her hip, who was currently pricking needles into the skirt of the white-laced dress.
"It's fine. Now hush."
The woman was curt in her response, her tongue sharp with those four words before she engrossed herself back into her work. Of course, the girl in the dress had expected that kind of response, it wasn't the first time her own opinions were rejected, only to be replaced by somebody else's. She almost sighed, but as soon as she tried to breathe in the air she needed in order to preform the action, she could feel something begin to pop around her waist and she quickly exhaled, trying to use her diaphram to push out the unwanted air.
Her name was Amiée Leferve- a name that was well recognized through out the buisness world of Paris. She was the sole daughter of Sébastien Lefevre, one of the top business men in the country of Paris. He ran a chain of resturants, hotels, stores - all of high quality and living up to the very definition of regal. These chains of businessess he owned, of course, led his family and him to obtain vast amounts of riches which his daughter would eventually inherit as she grew older past her current young age of nineteen. It was only the wealth that was to be transported to her though, the company had a different, non-blood related successor who was more suited for the task as opposed to the frail, self-conscious, unfit Amiée, who had been diagnosed with dyslexia from a young age.
Yes, the famous daughter of one of the most intellegent (at least business and money wise) men in France was dyslexic, inherited from her grandfather on her mother's side. This, naturally, was a well-kept secret in the family as to avoid any shame or embaressment to Sébastien's buissness and well- established name. As far as an outsider could see, the beautiful girl who appeared at her father's side in public outings was flawless. She was blessed with flawless skin and a pretty face. Her posture was straight and was the very image of how a proper lady should look. Her manners were perfected an she spoke, no matter how quietly, with high articulation, her voice gracing over the notes with a harmonic voice. She was perfect... At least, she supposedly was, but when it came to letters and numbers and a few other scholarly subjects, the information became jumbled in her mind which made it near impossible for her to comprehend. It wasn't as if she were unintelligent, in fact when it came to logic and matters out of a book she was very level-headed and capable, but if she were ever to try and record finances or preform a public reading she would trip and stumble in the process. This was the reason why the company was to go to one of her father's younger, more preformance-enhanced employees - Dariel Chavalier.
A light frown formed on frosted pink lips at the thought of the pompous man who was to inherit the business. It weren't as if Amiée found him incompetent to run the business well. No, she fully knew the extent of his capabilities and she had no doubts about the success he would have. She just didn't like the man, not that she would admit it. It's not as if she was mad the business wasn't going to her, infact she was happy to have it off her shoulders. She knew that with her learning disability and with her timid attitude that always second guessed itself, she would never get anywhere in buisness. On top of that, she didn't even like the business world. She hated having to pretend she had no flaws and she hated even more to have to feel so ashamed of the ones she did have. So getting rid of the company was a relief. It was Dariel's attitude she had a problem with.
Dariel was a jewel as far as her father could see. He was handsome, smart, talented,charismatic.. But when ever he was around Amiée, he flaunted how he were taking the spot she, under normal circumstances, should have had. It was in subtle ways which he would point it out, but she caught on to the snide remarks and superior glances. She didn't like the fact that her father's company was going to a man who was rude and too confident in himself. Amiée was a nice, yound lady which "prevented" (meaning as far as anyone else knew) her from hating anyone, but her feelings for Dariel weren't the most pleasant.
"Oh, look at this! You're so beautiful!"
Amiée was snapped away from her thoughts as the cheery voice of her mother, Emmaline, came from the hall. It was only moments before a young looking female entered the room, her model-perfect body being carried in by lengthy legs dressed in only the highest quality designer skirt available. Ignoring the woman fixing Amiée's outfit, her mother came foreward outstretching her arms to her daughter before engulfing her in a hug. "Thank you, mother,"
Amiée said in the embrace, out of politness more than anything. She loved her mother, she did. It was just that her mom had the tendency to be clingy and even though she didn't look the part, her mother was actually quite strong. And her arms tight around Amiée didn't help Amiée's attempts to swallow her required oxygen amounts.
"Are you almost done, Alice?"
The booming, baritone sounds of her father came next, followed by the tall figure of her dad to stride in the room as he adressed the sseamstress. The female nodded, muttering something about 'final touches' before moving behind Amiée and pricking another needle into the back quickly and with precision, before finishing up the job. As soon as she was done, Amiée stepped off her spot and glanced in a nearby mirror, taking in the appearance of the white dress against her pale skin.
"You look great, honey!"
Ready to go?"
Like normal, Emmaline continued to swoon while Sébastien was the one to be strictly buisness. Amiée bit her lip to avoid sighing before nodding and making that angelic smile of hers that she always put on for the public. "Thank you, mother,"
she repeated once more before looking over to a father, taking light steps in her soft flats to meet at her father's side, slipping her small arm through his. "I'm ready,"
she agreed, her gaze switching ahead, ready to take on that flawless appearence that the world demanded of her.