fix: editing one
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@ -31,3 +31,9 @@ This is the repository for *If I Lead This Dance* by D. Moonfire.
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- Storan
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- Galadin's father
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- A civil mage
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# Naming
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- de, da, dea
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- hi, ho, hon
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- von
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@ -2,31 +2,33 @@
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title: Measured
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---
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Galadin sat on the uncomfortable seat of the tailor's front room and stared into the display area for the front windows. Four maniquins with formal black suits filled the area but his interest remained fixed on the one female manique used to contrast the somber suits. The fabric of her dress rustled with the wind breezing through the open door and he loved how the sleeves moved like ocean waves.
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Galadin sat on the uncomfortable seat of the tailor's front room and stared into the display area for the front windows. Four mannequins with formal black suits filled the area but his interest remained fixed on the fifth, an exaggerated female shape made of wood and reeds. The fabric of her dress rustled with the wind breezing through the open door and he loved how the sleeves moved like ocean waves.
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He wondered what it would feel like if he wore it. A faint smile crossed his lips as he tried to imagine the layers of light material against his skin. Would it be heavy or light? Would it have the same oppressive restrictions that the black suit that the tailor and his mother preferred.
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He wondered what it would feel like if he wore it. A faint smile crossed his lips as he tried to imagine the layers of light material against his skin. Would it be heavy or light? He wanted to reach out and touch it.
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"Galadin!"
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He jumped at his mother's voice. Turning around, he clasped his hands in his lap. "Yes, mother."
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"Stop staring like an imbecile and come over here." She gestured curtly to a platform next to her.
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"Stop staring like an imbecile at that damn dress and come over here." She gestured curtly to a platform next to her.
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The tailor stood next to her, wearing a suit like the ones in the display area but without the jacket. Instead, a pair of cloth measuring tapes draped around his neck like a second tie.
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"Sorry," he said.
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"Sorry," he said with a blush and got up.
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"Don't say sorry. Men do not say sorry."
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"Sorry."
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She glared but didn't add anything.
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She glared but didn't add anything. After a moment, she snapped and pointed to the pedestal again.
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Galadin got up on the platform and stood straight.
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"He's fine, Dame Maran," said the tailor. He stood next to her, wearing a suit like the ones in the display area but without the jacket. Instead of a tie, he wore a pair of cloth measuring tapes. The long strips of marked fabric reached down to his belt.
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"Arms out," the tailor said in a bored tone. He followed with other directions as he measured Galadin from wrist to ankle, inseam and even around the neck. His mvoements were rough, the fingernails digging into Galadin's sensitive ribs as he worked his way down a notebook filled with measurements.
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"No, he isn't fine."
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"What will the young Kasin desire?"
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Quietly, he got up on the platform his mother gestured at, turned around, and held out his arms. As much as he dreamed about going to the annual presentation balls, this was not what he dreamed about.
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"Arms out," the tailor said in a terse tone. He followed with other directions as he measured Galadin from wrist to ankle, inseam and even around the neck. His movements were rough, the fingernails digging into Galadin's sensitive ribs as he worked his way down a notebook filled with measurements.
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"What will the young Kasin desire?" asked the tailor.
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"Black," his mother said.
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@ -36,18 +38,22 @@ His mother pulled a face. "The Kasins are a proper family with respect for the t
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The tailor didn't even pause. He took more directions from Galadin's mother with grace with Galadin standing patiently with his arms outstretched.
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Galadin listened to his mother with only half an ear. His opinions didn't matter but they rarely did. His mother had decided years ago that he needed a wife as soon as he turned eighteen. He knew it was coming but he couldn't find even a small measure of joy at the process of being wrapped in fabric and endless instructions on how "to be a man" for the presentation balls that started every spring.
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The effort to keep his arms up began to burn. He lowered them minutely. When his mother glared at him, he forced himself to lift them again.
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To distract himself, he gazed around the room but found nothing but somber, strict outfits. The only color, the only bright point, was the green dress in the display area. He smiled to himself and focused on it instead.
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She rolled her eyes and returned to giving the tailor directions.
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Galadin knew that young women had it worse. A presentation was their one and only chance of finding a husband. They were primped, feathered, and trained for years only to be stood in front of eligible besires in hopes of finding a husband.
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Galadin listened to his mother with only half an ear. His opinions rarely mattered but ever since she found out that he wanted to go to the presentation balls, nothing he could tell her would change her ways. As she charged forward in ensuring he would be there as her only son, he felt another shovel of dirt being dumped on what he really wanted.
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To distract himself, he gazed around the room but found nothing but somber, strict outfits. None of them were appealing, not a single would invoked even a hint of joy in his heart. He let his gaze drift to what he really wanted, the only bright point in the room, the green dress in the window.
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Galadin knew that young women had it worse. A presentation was their one and only chance of finding a husband. They were primped, feathered, and trained for years only to be stood in front of eligible besires in hopes of finding a husband. If they weren't selected, they would do it again and again with their prospects dropping with their age.
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And yet, he wished he was doing that instead of standing in a tailor's getting fitted for a suit he knew he would hate.
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A group of women crossed in front of the store. It was a cluster of mothers and aunts around a pair of young women wearing cream outfits. They were all laughing as they carried bags from clothing stores, boxes of shoes and hats, and even the remains of a lunch.
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They looked happy.
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He smiled to himself and tried to imagine himself in the bedame's place. Wearing the cream dress of a debutante seemed far more preferable than his current positoin.
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"Are you looking at that dress again?" hissed his mother.
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Galadin tore his eyes away guilty and pointedly stared at one of the suits. It was nice, but he couldn't imagine himself wearing it. Whenever he thought about the somber outfits that his mother wanted him to wear, it was as if he was looking at someone in the suit, not him looking out.
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@ -60,9 +66,11 @@ She glared at him. "Get down, we're done."
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Turning to the tailor, she held out her hand.
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He kissed it. "Always a pleasure, Maran da Kasin de Kamer."
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He kissed it lightly, his lips skimming the surface. "Always a pleasure, Maran da Kasin hi Kamer."
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Maran guided her son out of the store and down the street in a brisk task. "You are always looking at dresses, ever since you were a kid. You need to stop that, you are a young gentleman now."
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The tailor had used her formal name, naming her father's family of Kasin and her mother's of Kamer.
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Maran guided her son out of the store and down the street in a brisk pace. "You need to stop staring at women and dresses, you are a young gentleman now. You need to act like it."
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Galadin followed and said nothing.
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@ -16,6 +16,7 @@
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"Penelop",
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"Rach",
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"Tarsan",
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"besires",
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"da",
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"de"
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]
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