Her Nurse bustled around Juliet, arranging how her skirts fell on the pedestal. Behind the Nurse was her father, in his most formal Lord Capulet regalia for court, shouting orders. She was up on the pedestal where the statue of the Virgin stood in the church. She could look across the nave, over the tops of the pews.
Across the cavernous space was a niche and pedestal exactly like the one she stood on. Standing atop it was a boy dressed in blue, but she couldn't see his face clearly enough to know who he was. People were fluttering around him as well.
Juliet sagged a bit in the heavy, crimson velvet gown and her mother's voice snapped at her from somewhere she couldn't see instructing her to stand up straight. She tried to straighten her shoulders, her spine, but the dress was so heavy. She couldn't remember ever having worn so heavy a gown. She could feel the fabric getting heavier and heavier, pulling her down to her knees. Nurse clucked disapprovingly and Juliet could hear her mother getting angry. No matter how she struggled, though, the gown simply kept pulling her down until she was prostrate on her pillar.
Somehow, the weight of the dress was even making her eyelids heavy. She tried to focus on the pool of blood-red velvet around her, but it was too hard. The last thing she saw before her eyes were pulled closed was her father frowning at her from where he stood in all his lordly splendor.
- WS - WS - WS -
On the bed she had slept in since childhood, Juliet lay perfectly still, a potion bottle still clutched in her hand. As the sun rose outside her window, she dreamed on completely unaware of the chaos boiling all around her and the sorrowful wails ringing through the manor.