2 Meeting The Family

Myra soaks until she gets the signal from the maids to leave the bathroom. It's a few seconds before her skin starts to wrinkle, the perfect timing for her skin to be washed thoroughly.

Myra pulls a silken robe over her shoulder, waddling to the changing room to ensure she doesn't slip. For the umpteenth time this morning, she finds herself awestruck by the room that surrounds her, carrying such grandeur she can't believe she owns.

In front of her is a massive mirror that stretches till the ceiling and burgundy curtains with vine-like patterns. Around her, arranged by colour is an array of ball gowns and dresses of the finest designs. Myra's eyes twinkle with excitement at the selection, wondering how she's going to choose. Holding this thought, one of the handmaidens carries a dress towards her, pausing in front to wait for permission.

Though a little disappointed that she couldn't choose a gown for herself, she doesn't whine about it for the sake of keeping up an impression.

Leia helps her into a beige, sleeveless dress made with the most luxurious satin cloth, reflective enough for the bright lights overhead to make it shine. Myra nuzzles it up her shoulders, sucking her stomach for Jen to tighten a corset around her waist. She bites back a groan as she feels a jolt of discomfort through her core, squirming as she tries to adjust the corset into a position that's less excruciating to wear.

The sensation is a lot worse than her muscles can remember, she thinks as she settles onto a leather seat in front of a vanity table. "I want to know what I was like before I fell unconscious. My memories are foggy."

Both maids hesitate. Myra frowns at the silence and Jen shivers, promptly starting to brush Myra's hair out to smoothen it for braiding.

"You are the youngest daughter of the Ruskin family with two older brothers and sisters. Your parents care about you dearly, you are their most favoured child, naturally, and your brother is to inherit the responsibilities of the home once the time comes. Other than that… there are no necessary duties you have to take note of."

Myra huffs in contempt, opening her eyes in surprise. She'd been listening with such intensity, she couldn't even feel her hair being shifted and tied.

Her hair is done in a half-braid, one going around the curve of her head from the back while fresh roses are tied between it. Jen works meticulously and carefully, organising the flowers in a manner that it looks as if they fall naturally from the roots of her scalp.

"Ah, and you must know, my lady. Your family does not associate with the Bougainvillea family. Most social gatherings are organised for members of the Ruskin family and ones that you are obligated to attend are quite rare."

Myra lets out a satisfied hum at the appearance of her hair, lightly running her fingers through the locks of her hair. Making an expression of pride, she turns to her maids, smiling warmly, "I am pleased with this. Thank you for the effort."

"Are there any important events planned for me soon? I'd like to know my schedule."

Myra ensures to double-check her words a few times in her head to make sure she sounds formal or snobby enough with her sheepish tone. Hoping to not give away the fact that she's stuck in a universe that she doesn't know how to live in, she counts each step, hoping the next won't pin suspicion upon her.

"Of course, we'll ask Frederick to attend to you immediately," Leia and Jen chirp in unison, their voices merging. Myra, trying to regain her composure and her regal flair, clears her throat and sashays out of the room. Upon stepping out of the dressing room, she adjusts the lace which tickles her upper arms, letting out an exasperated huff.

The marble floor is cold beneath her feet, even when they are cushioned by fine leather slippers. An unfamiliar sense of wariness seeps into her system.

Myra gives a light push to the door to open it and when she steps out, she is welcomed by a gruff, mature voice. Surprised, she turns her head towards the sound, cupping her hands in front of her waist out of instinct.

"I am relieved to see you healthy and back, my lady. You have an appointment scheduled with the family physician after breakfast but for now, you must join your family for breakfast," he explains, bowing in her presence. He keeps one hand firmly behind his back, the other extended towards the end of the corridor.

Myra almost reaches a hand out as a gesture for him to stand, once again reminding herself that it's not her duty to look after those of a lower social standing than her. She peers at him with a guilty look before muffling a sigh, cascading down the corridors in hopes of not stopping in front of the wrong door. Soon after realising she has absolutely no idea as to where she's meant to turn, she looks to Frederick for help with pleading eyes.

"It's one door down to the right. You are going in the right direction," he explains and Myra flushes red out of embarrassment, continuing with faster steps. She enters the doorway of the dining room mindlessly, not expecting the series of gasps that follow her entrance.

"Oh my, I didn't think the news was true," a feminine voice cries in surprise. Myra pauses in her tracks, turning her head towards the sound to spot a haughty girl around her age. She wears a luscious coral gown decorated with lace and a hand-fan with which she covers her mouth.

Myra freezes on the spot, not knowing how else to comment.

"You mustn't speak like that to our sister who only just awoke, Roseann," Cole, the oldest, interjects with a cold voice, folding his arms sternly to his younger sister. Roseann, rolls her eyes in distaste and turns her head back to the food, fanning herself with more aggression. Myra, feeling like an outsider, stares at the massive dinner table in front of her and the spread to accompany it, taken aback by all that's laid out in front of her eyes.

"Won't you join us for breakfast, dear sister?" Jalen urges, patting the chair next to him, closest to their father's seat. Mariene, Myra's second sister, glances at her but quickly turns her head away, nonchalant towards her presence. Myra, skittish about the cold greetings, scampers towards her seat, bowing slightly towards the rest of her family before welcoming herself onto the seat between her brother and father.

"Do you feel any better, my daughter?" the Duke rests his cutlery down on the table and intertwines his hands. Brows etched with worry, he scrutinises Myra's face carefully, trying to see if she looks frail or weak from the time she's been unwell. "Apologies that I could not visit you myself in the morning. I only heard about the good news minutes ago when Frederick informed me through the maids."

"No, it's okay, father. I understand," Myra chokes out stiffly, fixating her gaze on the food. 'For as far as she's concerned, it seems that no one truly cares.'