feat: drafting seven and eight
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title: WIP
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title: Dysphoria
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teaser: >
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For all the efforts to make him look like a lady, Galadin wasn't there. With his fledgling skills with makeup, he couldn't get everything to match. Not without help.
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summary: >
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Galadin struggles with the dysphoria of turning into a girl where the image in the mirror doesn't match what he wants to look like. At the same time, he thinks he is getting sick. His father offers to help but does a poor job. Later, his mother interrupts and teaches Galadin how to do it right. Both of his parents make strange remarks about Galadin in the process.
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Galadin stared at the mirror with tears in his eyes. Helplessly, he ran his hand through the long blond hair that now flowed down his back. The color and length was perfect in every way, except that now it looked like an uncomfortable boy wearing a wig instead of the beautiful woman he hoped would have come out in the last few days.
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He didn't want to be a boy in a dress, he wanted to be a lady. A beautiful, gorgeous lady that would steal show.
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With a sniff, he wiped the tears with the back of his arm and looked down across his table. In the last few days, he had acquired a dizzying array of makeup jars, perfumes, and brushes of all types. Some of them were impulse purchase and others were suggestions from the various ladies who were helping him prepare for his debut.
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There were too many choices to look at. He knew what he wanted but his hand didn't seem to move in the right way. Glancing up, he looked at the makeup smeared across his face. It was wrong with sharp lines and blotches. Even the places he tried to blend looked wrong, the lines were too obvious and painful to examine.
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With a choked sobbed, he picked up a wiping cloth and started to remove it again. He would try again before giving up.
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He had said that hours ago. Now, it was probably after midnight and he still couldn't erase the image of a boy from the mirror. He felt sick and hot and flushed, a sensation that had been coming more frequently in the last few days. He wondered if he was getting sick.
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"Glorias?" It was his father's voice from the other side of the door. Unlike his mother, Storan seemed to easily switch to calling Galadin by his chosen name.
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Giving his face another wipe, Galadin leaned back. "Yes, Father?"
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"You sound distressed."
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"I...." Galadin looked at the boy staring at him in the mirror.
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"May I come in?"
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Galadin set down the washing cloth and sighed. "Yes."
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His door creaked open. Storan came in wearing his sleeping outfit, a long silk shirt and a pair of boxers. He looked frazzled but concerned as he came in.
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Galadin sniffed and wiped at the tears.
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"What's wrong? Have you been up all night?"
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"I'm not pretty. I try, but I can't make it."
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A helpless look crossed his father's face, highlighting the wrinkles for a moment. He grabbed a wooden chair from near Galadin's bed and carried it over to set it down. "I don't understand. How can I help?"
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"I... I..." Galadin sobbed for a moment and then gestured to the mirror. "I don't see what I want in the mirror."
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"What do you want?"
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"I want to be a girl."
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His father's confused look softened. "And you just see yourself with long hair, right?"
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Nodded, Galadin took another sob.
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His father looked down at his lap. He lifted his hand and awkwardly rested it on Galadin's thigh. It was cool and firm. "You're seventeen. You've been all that time looking in the mirror and seeing yourself, right?"
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It was Galadin's turn to be confused. "Y-Yes?"
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"Well, were you seeing the image you wanted?"
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"No."
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"Right, you were seeing a boy. You may not have wanted it, but it was still a boy looking back at you. Day after day, night after night. You've gotten used to seeing that boy so much you can't see anything but that boy."
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Galadin rested his hand on his father's.
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"If you close your eyes, you can still imagine yourself in the mirror, right?"
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"I, I don't know."
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"Try it." Storan said.
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Galadin closed his eyes and the image of his disjointed face came clearly. The hair was fuzzy and he couldn't seem to focus on both his face and his hair at the same time.
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"That's your memories filling in the blanks. Your body is changing, you are changing. It takes time for your head to forget what you look like and your eyes to start seeing again."
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Galadin opened his eyes and looked into the mirror. The sense of discomfort was still there but he got the smallest hint of what his father saw. By focusing on just the hair, he found it easier to imagine his face fitting it.
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Storan's hand lifted from his thigh. Instead of pulling away, he turned his hand and clasped Galadin's.
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Galadin looked at him in confusion.
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"Have you been feeling flush lately?"
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Galadin nodded. "And tingly. I think I'm getting sick."
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There was the briefest of smiles and then it was gone. "Maybe, maybe not. But let's focus on the problem. What is wrong?"
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"I look horrible."
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"Too vague, more details."
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"I look like a boy wearing a wig."
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"Okay, why?"
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"My face, it's all wrong. It isn't smooth and pretty and glowing."
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"That's probably makeup then. You seemed to be focusing on that."
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Galadin glanced at his father.
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Storan shrugged. "I've seen your mother when she wakes up. I know what makeup can do."
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Galadin smirked.
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His father grinned and shrugged. "I still think she's the most beautiful woman in my world but she refused to stop wearing it on my account."
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There was the faintest of creaks beyond the door.
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Storan didn't seem to notice. "Okay, I don't know much about makeup but I've seen your mother put it on more than once. Do you want me to help? I'm good at guessing."
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Galadin took a deep breath. "Okay."
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Storan shifted his chair closer and peered over. He picked up a pot of deep purple. "Okay, what we do is take the brush and then put this on you."
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He grabbed a brush and unscrewed the top. "Looks dark, but I'm sure it will lighten up. Okay, just all over your cheek, right?"
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Galadin started to laugh but then remembered he was supposed to giggle. His voice lightened up as he smiled. "No, Father. That's an accent color. You don't smear that on."
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"Okay, so white?"
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"No, a foundation. Like..." Galadin's voice trailed off until he found the larger pop of foundation that he thought looked the best. "This one. You brush it on lightly as a base."
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Storan peered at the pop for a moment, set it down, and started to inspect the other pot. "Now, your mother had these lines between the colors so I would expect you to have colors that match."
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As his father's effort clinked the clay pots, Galadin looked up. He noticed his door was open still and started to get up to close it when he saw a shadow moving on the other side. With a gasp, he turned away and sat down. His mother was watching.
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"Okay," his father said holding up the foundation that Galadin had picked. "So this one first, right? Start the bottom and work toward the eyes?"
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It didn't sound right.
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Storan picked up a brush and started to rub it into the foundation, smearing it around and thoroughly coating the brush.
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Galadin giggled, it came more natural this time, and pried the brush from his father. "No, lightly, you want to dust it, not smear it."
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"But this is how you paint a room."
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Rolling his eyes, Galadin shook his head. "My face is not a wall. Is that how mother does it?"
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Storan shrugged. "I never figured that out but now would be a good time. Okay, show me then?"
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Galadin set down the ruined brush and picked up a new one. It still smelled of fresh bristles and glue. Gently dabbing it into the pot, he leaned forward and began to apply it with smooth strokes."
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"Do you have an image in your head?"
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"I don't think so."
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"Maybe try to picture what you want?"
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Galadin tried, focusing on the paintings that he wanted to mimic. After a few seconds, he started to see the flaws again and he set down the brush. When he looked at his father, there was a look of concentration furrowing his father's brow.
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Storan looked up and straighten. "No, it isn't visualization."
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"W-What?"
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The frown faded. "Okay, that doesn't look right. Maybe we start with your eyes. You've been crying so they are read. So we just use this white stuff to hide it?"
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"No, Father, that isn't it!" Galadin said with a giggle.
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"Oh, for the Couple's sake," announced Maran as she shoved open the door. "Storan, you're useless." She had on her nightgown, a gossamer outfit that brushed against the ground. Her hair had been pulled up for the night, wrapped around bone rings to give it curls in the morning.
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Galadin's humor faded. The serious look on his mother's face brought a flush to his cheeks.
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"I'm not useless, I'm experimenting. Mistakes need to be made to figure out how to do it." As Storan talked, he was still looking at Galadin. It was a sharp, piercing gaze that made Galadin uncomfortable.
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"And you are going to teach him now to paint himself like a street whore. Go get us some mead."
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"Glorias should have ice water."
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She waved her hand dismissively.
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Storan stood up and patted Galadin on the shoulder. "Your mother is probably a better choice than me." He turned and left but not after smilingly warmly to his wife.
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Galadin cringed as his mother sat down. She was going to be rough with him, no doubt remind him once again that he was going to ruin her life.
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She clicked her tongue. "That man might be brilliant at magic, but he's terrible at makeup. Here, let's start over." She ran her fingers over Galadin's face. In the mirror, he could see the makeup fading away to bare his masculine features once again.
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A sinking sensation flooded over him. He hated the sight he saw in the mirror.
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Once she finished cleaning his face, his mother inspected the jars. She didn't fumble like his father. She quickly set pots aside, moving the colors to a side table as she isolated only a handful of pots near the center. "Men never know how to put makeup on but you've seemed to be fairly understanding of this."
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Stunned at the almost compliment, Galadin couldn't find any way of responding. His body grew hot for a moment and then started to tingle again. He frowned but concentrated on her actions to keep the woozy feeling from overwhelming him.
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His mother picked up the drenched brush and used her thumb to clean it off. It only took a single stroke with the caked-on foundation disappearing without even marring her skin. She gentle dabbed it on to gather some before handing it to Galadin. "Okay, start with the cheeks."
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Galadin took a deep breath and started to apply it.
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As he did, his mother gave quiet suggestions. "Lighter... more delicate... there, now come around in a wider circle.... There. Much better. You want to put some along that ridge, it will help smooth out your lines."
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The strange sensations grew. He almost felt like he was a young girl learning how to apply makeup for the first time. He smiled to himself and lost himself in the unexpected moment of his mother helping instead of complaining.
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Time grew fluid as they worked together to start filling in the colors. Before he knew it, he saw a hint of the woman he desperately wanted to be in the mirror.
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"Let me see," his mother said with pursed lips. She turned Galadin and cupped his chin as she turned him from one side to the other. "You did a good job for the first time," she finally said.
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Galadin smiled, his heart swelling.
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His mother suddenly jerked and her eyes widened. She kept tilting Galadin's head from one side to the other.
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"Ah, it's mental state," said his father from the door. He had two misting wine glasses, one with a white wine and other clear.
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Galadin took the offered glass of water. He felt heated and his skin was crawling. He squirmed in discomfort.
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"Drink, all of it, now," commanded his father.
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Obeying, he saw his mother look at Storan with a strange look.
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His father nodded once and handed her glass over.
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Galadin felt a quiver of fear but didn't ask. The ice water felt like exactly what he needed, calming his racing heart and subsiding the tingling sensation. Even the flush seemed to fade as the bitterly cold liquid poured down his throat.
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"Maybe one more tonight, a short snack, and then she needs rest. You can't learn everything in a night."
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She. His father called Galadin a "she" and for the first time, it felt like the right thing. Galadin smiled happily as he set down the glass. He felt like a girl in that moment, a proper daughter instead of a son.
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When he looked up, both of his parents were both watching his closely. He gulped with a flicker of nervousness racing along his veins. "W-What?"
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"Definitely mental frame and emotional state," his father said cryptically. "A second lesson tonight would be exactly what she needs." He emphasized the "she" when he spoke.
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His mother looked nervous but his words seemed to relax her. She nodded. "Thank you, Storan."
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Storan leaned over to kiss the top of his wife's head. Then he reached over and did the same to Galadin before announcing he was going back to bed.
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"Mother? What is going on?"
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"He's right. It's late. One more, but with a green tint to match your dress. Then you need to go to bed. A... girl needs her sleep."
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title: WIP
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title: Magic in the Makeup
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teaser: >
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After weeks of lessons, Galadin was finally accepting the changes. Never before had he felt so much like a woman and it was starting to show.
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summary: >
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Galadin and Maran are in a carriage. Galadin is practicing speaking like a woman in a higher register. His mother stops him and asked for his feelings. Then she shows that when he feels like a woman, his face changes to match. It depends on his emotional state. She apologizes for not seeing it earlier.
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Galadin sat on his side of the carriage with his back straight and his hands resting on his lap. He had his eyes closed as he sang softly, trying to get his voice to "slide" into the higher register. He had done it a few times that day but it was harder without the voice instructor right there. The sensation of doing and hearing it correctly was fleeting.
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"... and then the ship came sailing, sailing along the shore..."
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His voice cracked and he frowned.
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"You almost have it," his mother said.
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He opened his eyes. She was watching him closely and an uncomfortable look on her face. He had noticed it a few times lately, starting with the night she taught him how to apply makeup. They had been doing it every night since, with him getting more comfortable every time with every compliment.
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Galadin smiled to himself. He found himself craving the compliments, not only because his mother had turned a corner that night but she started using "she" and "my daughter" to describe Galadin. It almost made him feel like a real girl---
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"There!" snapped Maran. "Right now, what were you thinking?"
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Galadin gasped. "W-What?"
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"That moment? Just now, can your remember?"
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A blush burned in his cheeks and his skin was tingling. "I-I was thinking about how you told the instructor 'my daughter' needed lessons."
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Maran's frowned deepened.
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"W-Was I doing something wrong?"
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His mother inhaled sharply and let it out. The frown faded. "No," she said with a rare smile. "Apparently your father does know what he is doing. He's just clumsy at doing it and it's painful."
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Galadin worried his lower lip for a moment. "You've two been making strange comments lately. I don't---"
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His mother silenced him by tapping the cushioned seat next to her. "Come here," she said before digging into her purse.
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Confused, Galadin obeyed.
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She pulled out a hand mirror and set it down on Galadin's lap. "Hold that and look at your face."
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He did, looking at the face. It was still the masculine features he had grown to hate, but it didn't quite look as jarring as before. The long hair felt right on his scalp and bound into a tail over his shoulder. His makeup was much better, he only saw a few flaws but it did a lot to mask the man beneath.
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"How did your father say to do this...." whispered his mother to herself. Then she cleared her throat. "Close your eyes."
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Galadin obeyed.
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"Now, think of a picture, a woman that you thought yourself about. I don't know, a painting or illustration."
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"*A Dance Among the Swans and Roses.*"
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Maran chuckled. "Of course, I forgot how much you loved that painting. You met Suar de Pun when you were babe, you know. It was when she was a brilliant star of society right before..."
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She cleared her throat. "You were only two but I remember her saying you were a beautiful baby."
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Galadin smiled.
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"I guess, I've somehow missed that you were so unhappy these years. I figured it was just being seventeen but this last few weeks, since I... we... you finally told us, I've seen such a happiness in you that I didn't think was possible."
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His smile grew wider. He still had his eyes closed. The flush was filling him down, a tingling sensation that coursed from his toes to his fingertips. He felt like he was vibrating as he sat there.
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Maran took a deep breath. "I always wanted a daughter. I know I shouldn't, a boy was best for this world, but the idea of seeing her grow up into a beautiful woman was one of those dreams of mine. Now, I think I'm finally getting that."
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Galadin could feel tears of joys brimming in his eyes. He smiled broadly. "I hope so."
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"Open your eyes then."
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He did. In the mirror, he saw someone different looking back. It was his face but wasn't at the same time. The rough lines had been smoothed over and the shape looked subtly different. It wasn't anything that he could easily identify but somehow, he looked like a young woman in the mirror.
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Galadin opened his lips in shock.
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"When you...." his mother started. "When you feel like a lady, you start to look like one. Deep down inside, when you lose yourself, it changes. I've been able to see you change from thinking of yourself as a woman verses when as a man." Her voice had cracked. "I missed it at first but your father is, as you know, 'always paying attention.'"
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He grinned at her mimicked voice.
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"But as we've been going from lesson to lesson, I've been seeing it happening more often. Your face changes. Not physically, you are still the... child I raised but it looks different. Appearance, makeup maybe?"
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He looked up to see tears in her eyes.
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She cupped his chin and smiled at him as one bead ran down her cheeks. "You look so happy in those moments that I'm ashamed that I somehow missed it. But over these last few days, I couldn't help but see it. Your joy and love are tied into who you want... no, who you are, not what you were."
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"I-I don't understand."
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|
||||||
|
"You've been feeling flushed, right? And your skin crawls and you feel like your body doesn't quite fit with your thoughts."
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
Galadin could only nod.
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
"That's was you manifesting a talent. That was it breaking out of its shell to reveal your powers."
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
His breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth a few times before the words came out. "I... I can change my appearance? I can look like a woman? A real woman?"
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
Maran nodded. "You can, I've seen it. When you speak as one, dress as one, and see yourself as a daughter and not a son, you look like a woman. When you smile, you are my daughter."
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
Galadin let out a sob of happiness. He hugged his mother tightly. "T-Thank you!"
|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
"No, thank you. It took me too long to see with my eyes again not my heart. I'm glad I did because apparently I had missed something important to you. Now that I see it again, I couldn't be happier for you."
|
||||||
|
|
|
@ -32,6 +32,7 @@
|
||||||
"Rach",
|
"Rach",
|
||||||
"Rilar",
|
"Rilar",
|
||||||
"Storan",
|
"Storan",
|
||||||
|
"Storan's",
|
||||||
"Suar",
|
"Suar",
|
||||||
"Suar's",
|
"Suar's",
|
||||||
"Tadame",
|
"Tadame",
|
||||||
|
|
Loading…
Reference in a new issue