There had been times throughout her life when Imma could recall sitting on the floor with her sketchbook in her lap. Drawing one of her sisters as they stood upon a narrow podium with seamstresses at their beck and call. Draping and pinning fabric upon their bodies to make them even more beautiful than they already were. Goddesses among women. Tonight she found herself in the awkward position of standing upon that very pedestal. Looking down upon herself as busy hands moved to assign a place to the delicate folds of plum colored fabric. It was a beautiful color. One just a touch or two darker than her family was renowned for, but it still fit quite nicely with the aesthetic. Honestly she didn’t want to do anything that would make her sisters blend in. Not that she could ever do that, even with the right chiton. It was just a thought that had initiated her choice to begin with.



When she’d been on the other side of this arrangement before she’d always imagined how it must have felt for her sisters. To be doted on and lavished upon. It seemed so exciting to her then. Now that she was in their place she found herself anything but excited. In her mind she imagined it was because she didn’t really belong there. This wasn’t the sort of thing she thought should be wasted on her. Throughout the process she found herself apologizing countlessly to the women working upon the garment. Which no doubt baffled them. Despite her demeanor, Imma was a Leventi and that came with a certain amount of privilege. Having her apologize to the help for the silliest of reasons was unlike someone of her birth, but not at all unusual for Imma herself.



The dress was nearly done when the knock came at her door, drawing her attention from herself. Looking back she found herself peering at her mother as she stepped inside. A soft smile arose upon her lips. Ever the cheerful and pleasant daughter, even when she didn’t exactly feel comfortable. “Hello mother.” The seamstresses didn’t stop working, not until Evenlli asked to see what she had picked. At that point they backed away so that Imma could turn and face her mother. The chiton was not particularly tight, but it was gathered about her waist. It wrapped around her body and rose to fold over her right shoulder. The drape of the fabric across the front of her body was easily adjusted to hide the rather deep cut of the neckline. Which was not altogether that explicit given her youth and the size of her chest. Imma had never been particularly curvy, though she was certainly far more so now than she was even a year prior.



All her hair was piled atop her head and pinned in place to keep it out of the way, which left a clear picture of how the chiton fit her. Twisting her fingers about one another in front of her waist she nervously waited for her mother’s opinion. Though before she could wait out the reaction she found herself timidly seeking her input. “Do you think it is alright?” Whether it was good enough or not, she imagined it would be difficult to turn back now. There were alterations that could be made of course, but if she disliked the color then they were sadly out of luck. At the very least it was not nearly as form fitting as one of Nana’s dresses. Surely that would please her mother? Though given how truly new she was to all of this… Imma had no real idea if she was even headed in the appropriate direction.

As her mother neared she let her gaze shift momentarily toward the mirror nearby. Canting her head like a little bird as she studied herself in contrast to her mother. The vantage left her looking at the exchange from a third perspective. Similarly to how she used to watch her with her sisters. Oddly it felt more natural that way, even if it wasn’t realistic. Pulling her gaze from the reflectionary world she let it move naturally toward her matriarch. Studying her as she ran her fingers over the fabric. Studiously following her lead she found her own fingertips brushing against her hip. Passing her palm across the material while curling her digits to invest the time and energy necessary to appreciate the fabric for what it was. It was nicer than a lot of what she owned. Certainly too fine a thing to wear to draw in… though even she knew she would likely at some point do just that. Imma could never keep herself from drawing. It was compulsory. Like breathing.



A tense exhale split her lips and carried the weight of her tension from her body. Passing audibly into the air between mother and daughter as the seamstresses flocked to her attention. The closer tuck of the material made her tighten up once more. Straightening her shoulders and pushing herself higher to try and look taller than she actually was. Not that it would do her all that much good. Imma had always been quite tiny and now was really no different. There was a momentary trek back to the mirror for her gaze before her mother’s words brought her right back to heel. Locking the rich amber gaze upon her person as she complimented her. The response that immediately arose within her mind was never uttered. What came to pass was simply, “Thank you”, when in reality she’d wanted to tell her she didn’t have to say that.



As she opened the box Imma’s breath caught, hefting her chest skyward. Everything within it was so beautiful. The gold bedecked with all its precious stones. “Mine?” The idea she had splendour at all seemed a ridiculous notion. Taking the box within her hands she lured it close, cradling it as she studied the trinkets within. There was a certain excitement that brewed within her at the thought of dressing up. Wearing lavish things designed for immaculate women. Women like her mother and sisters. Chewing her lip she balanced the box carefully on her forearm so she could brush her fingers over the smooth golden figures. Paying particularly close attention to the bangles. As distracted as she was with the temporary gift she wasn’t so much so that she would miss her mother’s grooming or overlook her question. Imma was far too aware of herself for that.



“Is anyone ever truly ready?” The question was theoretical honestly. Which she doubted would be quite what her mother wanted. Rather than allow that question to linger between them she simply nodded. “I believe I am as ready as I can be.” That wasn’t to say that she hadn’t done her best to prepare, simply that she doubted her ability to really live up to the expectations. “I am sure I will make mistakes. I will do my very best though, mother.” Despite how unpredictable she could be at times, Imma really did try to do as was expected of her. While she might not have always succeeded, there was little doubt that her intentions were good. That in and of itself was likely why her mother thought of her as the easiest to manage of her brood. That and perhaps because the expectations were much lower for her.

There were benefits to being as quiet as Imma was. Observation happened to be one of her strongest skills, especially when it came to those she knew best. The quality of her mother’s smile was not what she would have hoped it would be. There was a sense of weight to it that kept the corners from arising as she knew they were capable of. It meant there was certainly more at work within her mind than Imma could even begin to realize. The laughter that followed only seemed to support that realization. It gave her cause to pause and consider the words that followed. The initial sentiment she could agree with rather easily. What she struggled with was the idea of finding a man. It seemed unlikely that she would meet a man the first time she went out. Then again for as small as their crowd seemed to be, it might be less likely to meet people she wasn’t already familiar with.



“What is the largest of mistakes?” The question was a manifestation of her curiosity, reflected in the dark depths of her gaze. If there was such a mistake to be made, Imma wanted to make certain she avoided it. No doubt it was something to do with men. Most everything in a woman’s life seemed to revolve around men. It was their plight. One she was relatively accustomed to by that point. It wasn’t as though she really had a choice, even if she didn’t support the way that things were. If she were truly unsettled by the power of a man in her world then the only option she really had was to commit herself to a temple. That thought, however, had never really appealed to her. So she had to find a way to do what was best for herself and her family. Which meant finding exactly the sort of man her mother wanted for her.



Allowing her attention to shift to the box she watched as her mother picked out a set of earrings. They were beautiful and glittered in the lighting. Holding her breath she waited for them to be fastened before lifting a hand up to brush over them as they dangled from her lobes. It wasn’t often she had worn jewelry in her youth. It was really the sort of thing she saw more with her sisters and mother. That didn’t mean she didn’t love it. It always made her feel prettier than she should have. Like it managed to elevate her to a higher state of being. Closing the box in her hands carefully she held it to her chest, cradling the precious cargo as if it truly were capable of bestowing further beauty upon her person.



The compliment was met with a soft smile. Imma wanted so badly to feel as though she deserved that compliment. That she was as lovely as the sisters who had come before her. “I am afraid I would chose poorly. That I would pick a man for all the wrong reasons. I will have to caution myself from judging with my eyes and not my mind. I will not go with anyone anywhere private, though I am sure you will not have any need to worry of that.” Imma didn’t imagine anyone would want to skirt her away to anywhere private. It wasn’t as though she had suitors to speak of and for what she knew there would be far better options than herself. “No talk of Olympia at all? Not even hopeful tidings for the baby?” Imma saw only good in the world. There was much good she could say of her sister and her husband, despite the situation they currently found themselves in.



Deep down she knew it was probably best to take her mother at her instruction. To simply accept the rules and follow them without question. Taking a tentative breath she exhaled slowly before allowing her mind to get the better of her once again. “Do you think I will actually meet someone?” The thought made her nervous but slightly giddy. Imma had never really been in that place before. It didn’t seem likely, but it was still worth asking. “Is there anyone you think I should meet? Anyone you think… may fit?” Surely her mother knew better than she who would be a suitable match. In that respect she would not have to worry over what she thought of their looks or apparel, she could simply listen for their names and then begin to formulate an opinion after the fact.

There was no doubt that Imma was a great deal different from her sisters, though perhaps none so more than Nana. Despite being the closest in age they were drastically different. It seemed that they were two sides of a coin. Where Nana was outspoken and extroverted, Imma was introverted and thoughtful. When it came to analyzing situations she was one of the first to go too far. Sometimes the fact that she was so quiet and contemplative helped her and yet in others still it could work entirely against her. Preparing herself for the night to come was a series of prayers and questions. Some went answered and others unfortunately did not. In this case she was far more likely to hear her mother’s advice than Athena’s. So she waited with a rather focused gaze to hear her mother’s answer.



The response she offered earned a small smile and the hint of a laugh, just a breathy bubble of air that seemed to lighten her mood. That humor didn’t last for long though as she went on to explain what would truly be the worst mistake to make. It seemed to her that finding one’s self unescorted with a man at court would take a great deal of effort on her part. In her mind there had to be a great many people. So many in fact that consciously choosing to skirt away with one would be a decidedly deliberate action. One that she certainly did not see herself doing. It was easy to reassure her mother of that fact because honestly she didn’t even see the opportunity presenting itself. “I promise not to shame our family in that way.” While she couldn’t genuinely assure she would not make any mistakes at all, she could at the very least promise that much.



Nodding to reassure her mother that she would see her out she punctuated the silent answer with the renewal of her sweet smile. It did flutter the slightest bit when she was told clearly not to speak of Pia, however, even if the conversation was one of good intent. Imma loved her sister and was truly excited to be an aunt. Still she understood just how precarious the situation is and knowing full well that she was no good at riding a razor’s edge, she chose to accept the rule. “Alright… I won’t speak of Pia or the situation surrounding her.” It would be difficult if others asked of course, but she would find some tactful way to dodge the conversation. Lord knew that Imma was quite good at doing that. Saying what people wanted or needed to hear, even if it really wasn’t what she felt.



There were exceptions to that rule of course. In particular Imma was incredibly bad at presenting a front of confidence; especially when it came to her appearance in comparison to those whom had come before her. It was perhaps one of her greatest flaws. Knowing she would be in a room with all her sisters vying for some scrap of attention made her feel sick to her stomach. Who would ever spare her a moment’s notice when their options were so extensive and grand? That discomfort only twisted further with her mother’s words. Imma had to intentionally think happier thoughts. Choose to believe that may was absolute. That it could and would happen for her at some point. With further distraction she was able to set her concerns aside for a moment. Focusing instead on the trinkets that her mother placed upon her person. Their sigil shown the utmost respect in the revert caress of her fingertips.



Keeping the names fresh within her mind she found herself nodding. Allowing the acknowledgement of each name pass through her thoughts. “Lord Nikos of Condos and Lord Iason of Dimitrou. Alright. I will make certain to speak with them if I am able.” Though she hadn’t a clue what she would say to them. Which brought up another question, one she would hold for the moment until she’d addressed her mother’s mention of a trip. There was a tickle of bemusement there that brightened her features and left her smile radiantly shining. “Just you and I on a trip to Colchis? Nana would never let that happen… she would fight you tooth and nail for the opportunity to flaunt herself before the foreign prospects.” It wasn’t a thought she found at all unpleasant though. From what she had heard and seen of the Colchian men there was little to be disappointed about. “I’ve heard they’re quite handsome… Colchian men. I’d like to draw some of them. Maybe the Crown Prince would be willing to sit for a portrait.”



That was a thought she would have to stew on, though she doubted her mother would be pleased with her if she stepped up to him at the palati and asked if she could paint him. It would have to be the right time and place. Stepping from the small platform she’d been standing upon she made her way with her mother’s bidding toward the mirror. As her mother stepped aside to give her the freedom to view herself, Imma glanced toward the reflection in the mirror. While it wouldn’t be all that obvious to detect her gaze did not linger upon herself but rather the things that she wore. Touching upon the dress and the jewelry before her eyes moved away. There wasn’t much sense in her peering at her reflection. Imma had never really thought herself all that beautiful to begin with and now with her nerves all askew she doubted she would be able to feel any differently.



Was she ready? That thought caused her to pause for a moment, opening her mouth as if to speak before thinking better of her reply. Choosing to bring back the question that had been on her mind in the first place. “What should I talk to them about? Lord Nikos and Lord Iason… assuming I am in fact able to speak with them? What does one discuss with a Lord?” What could she say that would intrigue them enough to occupy their time with her instead of every other eligible woman that would be there? Was there such a topic in all the world? If there was then she was hoping her mother already knew it and could pass that wisdom onto her.

Despite all that she put into the relationships with people in her family, there were times when Imma still truly felt out of place. It was easier, however, when she had time to spend with someone alone. Hearing her mother laugh brought a smile to her face. It let her know that despite all the expectations she could still find some humor in life. With her health and the stress of the years past it hadn’t been all that often when she’d truly heard her mother laugh. At least not freely. “It’s good to hear you laugh.” Even if the laughter wouldn’t remain it was nice to hear while it lasted. It helped to settle the mood and calm her frayed nerves. Though in reality there would be no real way to completely quiet her fears.



When it came to the prospect of drawing, there was rarely a time when her answer would be no. Which should have made her reply to her mother’s question fairly predictable. “Of course I would. It is an honor to paint royalty… one day he will be the King. Even now he is a Prince. Those sorts of pieces are the kind people remember. Maybe if I painted him then others would see the piece and I would be able to paint even more. I may even be able to earn a bit of money with my work. It would be exciting just to be known for something of my own.” Everyone of course knew her name, at least they knew the Leventi name. That didn’t mean they knew her or really cared to know her. Achieving something of one’s own merit was appealing to her, especially if it had to deal with her talent.



When it came to conversation Imma was far better with casual chit chat. It was far different to talk to someone when you expected nothing of them than it was when you were attempting to achieve something. Imma simply wasn’t the kind who had ever been good at fabricating anything, she just didn’t have the ability to be deceitful. Whether people would care to admit it or not, fanciful words and eloquent conversation could be inherently dishonest. “Anything to get them talking? I imagine that is a great deal easier when you know them… their interests and ambitions. Iason I imagine must like horses? His family does breed, do they not? Perhaps that would be a sensible subject?” The contortion of her features made it clear she still wasn’t sure, but she was willing to at least try.



As the motion was made to shed her clothing Imma tensed a bit. Nudity ranked right up there on the list of her least favorite things. When one was insecure in any fashion being stripped down to naut but your skin was akin to torture. Begrudgingly she let them do as they were bade, finding she missed the jewelry almost more than she did the fabric. All the effort her mother put into her hair would have to be undone for her to bathe, but that wouldn’t be all that extensive a chore. Keeping and arm wrapped about her chest and her hip angled from view she kept herself relatively guarded from the gaze of those about. Waiting for the word that the bath would be ready for her. In the meantime she took that awkward moment to delve deeper into the conversation from before. “Could we truly travel? You and I? There are many places I would like to see… I have heard incredible things about Egypt and Athenia. Even Colchis… though I suspect if Selene does marry the Prince then I will see Colchis at some point.”