Breathe in the Embers
Part 21
Margaret had been right. The swooping neckline was more effective than the strapless.
Lithuega felt every eye in the Mayor’s house turn to her as she stepped through the double doors. It might have been the horns. Hell, it could have been the midnight blue skin, or the sky blue of her eyes, or the deep black of her hair. It could even have been that she was the newest superhero, or just the most sensational to hit the news in decades.
It could have been a great many things. Lithuega had decided to assume it was due to her dress.
She’d gotten it for free, the tailor falling all over himself to receive the honor of clothing her. She’d found it amusing, but a little annoying in the end. Being fawned over constantly wore on her nerves. She’d sent pictures to Martin and Margaret using the phone they’d bought for her, asking their opinions. Martin had conspicuously remained silent, though every picture claimed to have been seen. Margaret was significantly more helpful.
The dress hugged every curve of her legs and hips, the slit on the left side going halfway up her thigh. Enticing, but Lithuega had seen some of the ridiculous skin baring fashions of this age. They had forgotten the art of attraction altogether, believing that starving the imagination by making the eyes gorge was the way to go. You should whet the appetite, and keep them so very hungry for more. She did precisely this, the flash of leg and scoop of decolletage eye catching without nearly being naked. This was how to be an artist among potential suitors.
The eggshell dress was edged with golden lace, which trailed up from the triangle framing her revealed thigh, up to her shoulder, then across. It connected there with the lace edging her low cut bodice, drawing the eye from one tantalizing vision to the next. The sleeves, only vaguely connected to the main dress, began at her upper arm and continued all the way to her wrists, and they were made entirely of eggshell lace with gold detailing. Almost fully covered, the eye was drawn to the sensible display without being bludgeoned by skimpiness. I believe the humans would refer to it as ‘tastefully seductive’, and have a much less kind phrase for half the other dresses here. The ones women were practically falling out of, or the ones they didn’t need to, as only their undergarments offered any actual coverage.
And clad thusly in her custom dress and ego alike, Lithuega entered the world of superheroes.
Eyes across the room were dragged to Lithuega as if by gravity. Almost always they followed the same path, certainly for those men who were interested in such things, and sometimes for the women who might be. Leg. Hip. Chest. Lips. Horns.
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Even those gazes that did not follow the designated trail ended up there.
A dozen gold rings, fashioned to be precisely the right size, sat on her gently curving horns, a delicate pearl drop dangling from each. The way they swayed in sync combined with the deliberately flowing braid of her black hair, it was almost mesmerizing whenever Lithuega turned her head. A wave moved from those dangling pearls, down her hair, to the length of leg enhanced by eggshell heels, and finally to the only flowing part of the dress, the hem.
Lithuega moved with care, ensuring that each motion ended with her in an advantageous pose, and also letting her gaze wander enough for the others present to get a circumspect eyefull while her attention was elsewhere. She was nothing if not generous.
“Ah, the wonderful Miss Nightfire!” It was not the voice of a king that called out, though authority ran through it. There was an eager-to-please undertone, one that indicated that the speaker did not rule the people, but in theory served them, and relied on their goodwill to retain his authority. He was a surprisingly fit man for his position, ‘Mayor’ always made her think portly, and he offered his hand with a blazing smile. “I don’t know if you’ve seen my public statements of gratitude, but I’d like to thank you again! I can’t begin to imagine the death and destruction you managed to prevent on not one, but two occasions!”
“Mayor Tenor, a pleasure to meet you.” Lithuega assured him, taking his hand somewhat awkwardly. The last time she had been on this planet, he would have bowed and kissed her hand in a vaguely presumptive manner. Now they gripped firmly and shook. She found this a delightfully improved custom. “I was more than happy to assist, and will be quite pleased to continue to do so in the future. Thank you so much for getting me an invitation on such short notice.”
“Of course my dear, of course!” Tenor replied with that boisterous enthusiasm that went over so very well with the middle class. Refined but down to earth. Just enough polish. “What kind of Mayor would I be if I didn’t thank you with something beyond cheap words? This whole gala is about thanking those who stand in a line between our citizens and evil! It would be terribly remiss of me not to ensure everyone who fit such a description was accounted for.”
Lithuega nodded her thanks, seeing how an ordinary person could be overwhelmed by not just the volume and presence of the man, but the weight of his apparent goodwill and generosity. Whether he was faking or sincere, this was a dangerous political animal indeed. “Well I am pleased to see that I am in the care of such a gracious host then.”
The Mayor laughed again, the sound dominating the room without being deafening. Sheer force of presence. It took the breath away. “Well enjoy! I have other guests to attend to but let me know if you need anything at all.” He gave that dazzling smile once more as he turned back to the simpering sycophants who had gathered at his back all the while, awaiting the attention of their idol.
Smiling demurely, Lithuega turned, pleased with her first interaction with the Mayor, and with the superhero community, and almost ran nose first into a wall of stone. She took a quick step back. On closer inspection, it was a concrete person. A statue. And the head of the statue turned to follow her, a glass of champagne held incongruously in one hand. “I have to say Nightfire, you’re more of a preening peacock than I had expected.”