Nymeria(Yes, I know, it's been a while since we did a rowan chapter. It's coming. I think.)
I reached my hand out to the brownette in front of me.
"Nice to meet you," She greeted. "I'm Jean, the packs main seamstress." Jean was short and round with focused grey eyes and age slightly showing through wrinkles formed between her eyebrows- not a werewolf.
"Pleasure. Nymeria Evergreen." I had used my mothers maidens name in stead of my fathers for over six hundred years. Always refusing to connect myself to him in any way.
Jean asked me to undress into my undergarments and stand still with my arms out to take measurements. While standing there we ended up making small talk.
"So, how did you end up here?" She asked casually whilst measuring my waist.
I huffed a small laugh. "War. Grudges. Family. I ended up not leaving because of a certain mate." She looked up at me and smiled. From above I could see just a few silvery strands of hair on her head. The humans never seemed to understand their luck, the gift of aging and dying in peace. Such things simply didn't happen for werewolves.
"How about you? Mate?" I asked in return. She shook her head.
"My father was like you. I clearly took after my mother, but she died giving birth to me. I've lived with you people my entire life." I nodded.
"Okay, all done. You can sit back down." She gestured to an armchair at my right. Once I had sat down she continued.
"So, do you have any wishes for the dress? Colors? Styles? certain parts that need covering or not? Do you have training for more specialized heavy dresses?" I thought it over.
"I've been trained- for heavy dresses, corsets, petticoats, you name it. I'd prefer a long dress in a dark color, without a cleavage if that is possible. I can walk and dance in heels, but preferably not too high ones." Jean nodded and scribbled in her notebook.
"Well, thank you for your time. It should be done in three days."
"You too." I replied and left the room. I got up on the roof and took a deep breath. I focused on the air entering through my nose. So many wolves around, but one of them was undoubtably Emyra. I focused on the honey and pine tree smell of her shampoo, from south of me. I followed it and before long ended up in a humid indoor garden where Emyra was sitting on a bench, reading quietly, her bouncy curls falling over her face. I slid in next to her.
"What are you reading?" I asked. She surprisedly turned her head towards me, her gem like green eyes meeting mine.
"Ria! How are you?" I smiled at her.
"Good. It's easier to breathe now. Nobody warned me how confusing modern culture is, but I can deal with it." I didn't know if it was all in my head, or if an old internal injury was healing, but my chest felt lighter. Emyra laughed lightly.
"I'm being introduced to high society in four days. I keep finding myself questioning if anyone from that time will still be there. I hope they aren't. The person I was back then..." I didn't finish the sentence. I just hoped she'd understand either way.
Then a lovely smell entered the greenhouse. Rowan stepped around a corner with a smile. "My meeting's done, you up for a run around the pack grounds?" He said, lightly touching my cheek- sending sparks down my spine.
"Yeah. I'll see you. Maybe you can help me out for the party later?" I asked Emyra as I hooked my arm into Rowans. She nodded and I smiled at her as me and Rowan left.
"How did your appointment with Jean go?" Rowan asked, guiding our steps towards the edge of the forest.
"Good, I believe. She'll probably have more fun than usual- I am capable of wearing things most people can't. One thing I can thank my father for." My father had been an asshole, but he made sure all his children- especially his eldest, got the best possible education in high society culture, probably to be able to sell me for more when I grew up. I had almost been thankful for it when I was married to Thane, that the way I acted in front of his associates didn't give him reason to punish me, that I could wear anything he asked me to without making a fool of myself.
"What was your family like?" I cringed but huffed a sarcastic laugh.
"My father was an asshole. Raped my mother in a drunken stupor after his wife had her seventh miscarriage. To keep up a good image he took me in, and let my mother work as a maid in the pack house. He married two other women to have sons. His first wife didn't like any of me and the six siblings his other wifes provided, but we weren't on pleasant terms either. I was only kept around in order to be sold off when I got off age."
"Seems we both hit the jackpot in the 'fathers department'." Rowan answered with equal sarcasm.
"Seems so." I answered, smiling at him.
"What about your kids?" I froze up, their small faces flashing in my mind.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Rowan said, slight panic in his voice.
"I-" I didn't look him in the eye. I couldn't. Five hundred years in imprisonment yet the memories that haunt me the most are of them. I hadn't even continued giving them names after he killed my first three. I had failed them all. Eleven children. Five survived their first meeting with him. Two became adults. None outlived their mother, or him.