'Ma,' Meme began in a firm, determined voice shortly after breakfast, 'Make me look beautiful'.
Gervaise, who had taken up some rather pointless embroidery, cast a bewildered look at the girl, who hovered in front of her, rocking back and forth on her heels and picking at the hem of her rather untidy dress, which, to the disgust of her mother and aunt, did not reach below her thighs. 'Meaning?' she asked, her neatly thinned eyebrows raised just the way court ladies raise them - or so she thought.
'Oh, you know,' Meme replied, waving her hand vaguely, 'You read books and things. I want to look beautiful, with my hair done up and face painted and all, and I need your help'.
'Ah, I understand now,' Gervaise said dryly, mentally rejoicing that her little beast of a daughter was finally seeing the light, 'It will require a lot of effort, but I will see what I can do'.
When Oracio returned home from his spriggan hunt that night, Meme wasn't there to meet him. In fact, she nowhere near the house at all - if someone were to look for her, they would have found her in a small grove on the opposite side of town, all trimmed and washed and covered with several layers of powder and stuffed inside one of her mother's old frocks, sitting in the grass and holding hands with a pale youth with hollow cheeks and eyes so dark that they seemed like two black holes which sucked in your gaze, making you unwilling - or unable - to ever look away. She had met him several days before while she was out catching luna moths with her father and got separated from him. The youth had appeared in front of her out of nowhere, his silhouette dark and rather menacing in the gathering dusk, but after the first few seconds of fright she had extended her hand to him as a token of friendship. Meme and the youth had talked for a while, and he had expressed an ardent wish to see her again, and now she was doing her best to make their second meeting to look like those she'd read about when taking a sneak peek at her mother's books. She was immensely proud of her unusually well-groomed look, and her new friend seemed to have sensed that, for there was no end to his compliments. His words, spoken softly and slowly, while his black eyes never left her face, made her heart flutter against her ribs like a little caged bird that longs to be set free; she was old enough to realize what his intentions might be, and the realization that grown men (for he looked quite a bit older than her, though it was hard to determine his exact age) already found her interesting - well, this realization excited her so much that her head swam a little and she could feel a pleasantly warm blush somewhere around her neck and chest. He asked her to tell him more about herself; she answered mechanically, her lips moving with barely any thought, her whole self sinking deeper and deeper into his eyes. Finally, after what seemed both a fracture of a moment and an eternity, he rose to leave and, his voice now temptingly lowered, offered to kiss her as a sign of farewell. She gave him a vigorous nod, suddenly out of breath.
She didn't realize at first what needed to be done, her lips remaining unparted - but then, giggling at her own silliness, she followed his lead, and the long, scorching kiss that followed pinned her to the ground. 'Will I ever - again...' she gasped when he finally let go.
He smiled, and his smile was like honey trickling slowly from a spoon, 'Of course. I can only see you after sunset, however. Before that I am... otherwise occupied'.
She nodded blankly, the meaning of his words hardly registering in her mind, which was full to the brim with the brewing hops of happiness.
Before dissolving without a trace into the evening gloom, he leaned towards her once again and whispered, 'We shall meet soon, my love,' - and these words were the last drop of the heady golden liquid that seemed to have flooded Meme's heart and soul. When he left, she threw herself onto the ground and screamed with sheer joy until she was hoarse. Then she got up, swaying a little, and made her way home.
'It has been a fortnight, Meme,' Oracio said sadly, looking up at his daughter across the alchemy table, 'You don't go adventuring with me; you borrow those silly love stories from your mother; you fuss about your looks, though you never seemed to be bothered before; your mood changes by the minute; you've grown so distant, so absent-minded... Tell me - is there... Are you... Are you seeing someone?'
'So what if I am?' Meme snapped, 'What is it to you?'
Oracio looked stung, 'Well, you could have told me... You never had secrets from your old Da before...'
She shrugged her shoulders - in the past few days she had been doing this while talking to Oracio far more often than he felt necessary, 'Well, now you know!'
'Is there more you'd like to share?' Oracio asked, painfully aware of his humiliatingly pleading intonation, 'What is he like? How do you get along?'
'Look, Da,' Meme said sharply, her voice suddenly icy, much like her mother's when she was angry, 'This is my business, not yours. I am not another you, I have my own self too, and I am tired of living your life. I don't belong to you any longer - I belong only to myself!'
'And to him,' Oracio said quietly, but she was already gone.
