Genevieve tugged on the scraps of cloth encasing her waist. Dingy brown in color but still, they slimmed her already thin waist. Shaping her into more of an hourglass figure, she carefully smooths the ripples that had formed in her skirt. She clears her throat as she surveys herself in the mirror before her.

Dark chocolate eyes fall over the image before her. Long twisted strands of hair in the beginnings of dreadlocks hung limp down either side of her face, framing it lovely. Tiny brown speckles litter her cheeks and nose as though sprayed by a paintbrush, a rosy tone laid down beneath them. Her youthful face, frozen in an expression of disinterest. Olive green tresses hang over her overthin frame, bundling and bunching in excess and cinched at her middle with a brown length of fabric. The layers just barely managing to conceal the parts of her that made her a woman, although those parts were slight. Barefoot feet peer out at the base of her threads, a bit dirty.

Genevieve sighs as she stares at herself. Bored with her plainness. She turns from the mirror and snatches a wicker basket from the kitchen counter. She holds it with both hands before her, staring herself down again until her sigh repeats. She rolls her eyes slowly, pouts a bit, and then heads over to the laundry. She collects a medium scrap of cotton fabric and lines her basket expertly. She delicately folds over the edges and heads toward the door of her cottage home.

She clutches a rope dangling from up on the ceiling and tugs, loosing the clasp on the doorlock. She pushes the door open to reveal the bright, shining, green day. Gen’s feet drag over the plush and fluffy grass, trimmed neatly across her front lawn. Pink and yellow blossoms reach out of the ground to border her walkway on either side. The air soaked in the sappy sweet smell of flowers and the wet growth of Spring. She makes note to ignore all of these things as she takes a sharp left out of her property and down the dirt road toward the markets.

After a moderate stroll through the woodlands, she comes up on the edge of the markets. Shops alive with the sound of chitchat, gossip, and bargaining.

—

Not finished.