EDREYA NATALYA WROTE THIS EPISODE.

She doesn't own these characters either.

(This story is not open to reader submissions, in case you were wondering. The Edreya and I have an understanding, and she does not have a fanfiction.net account)

Makeup

Lady Sandrilene fa Toren sighed gratefully as the bells rang four times, signaling the approach of evening. She carefully packed up her needlework, forcing herself to arrange everything neatly. Although the thread mage normally enjoyed practicing her craft, this afternoon she was too excited to concentrate. Still, she had forced herself to get a little of her work done. Now, having a few hours of sewing behind her, she could finally get ready for her night out.

Sandry hurried to her vanity table, opening the carved wooden box in which she kept her make-up, the finest powders and salves to be had in all Summersea. She dusted her face lightly with powder, then brushed a smoky glistening color around her eyes. Finally, she painted her lips a glossy crimson and colored her cheeks a light pink. Ready at last, she threw her cloak over her shoulders and tripped gaily down the staircase to the front hall.

"Goodbye, Uncle!" she called, and motioned for the guards to open the massive front doors.

"Not so fast, my dear," Duke Vedris, the aforementioned uncle, said

pleasantly, entering the hall. "I thought I should come down to see" His voice trailed off as he studied his great-niece. His expression grew grave, then suddenly brightened.

"Why, Sandrilene!" he exclaimed, too-heartily. "You forgot to wash your face, silly girl. You-"

"Don't be foolish, Uncle," Sandry broke in, rolling her eyes, "I did wash my face. This is make-up."

"Oh, make-up, is it?" Vedris said. His tone was calm, but his rigid expression and snapping eyes suggested that his temper was struggling to flare out of control.

"Sandrilene, I think there are a few things we need to discuss. Would you be so good as to step into my study?" asked the duke, in a strained voice.

"We can talk right here," Sandry announced firmly, "as I'm late already."

"We will talk in my study," Vedris snapped. "Now!"

Sandry sighed, but complied to the order, as the guards exchanged furtive looks and snickered. Vedris closed the study door firmly.

"Now, Sandrilene," he said, "exactly what do you think you're doing? I do not know what has gotten into you these days."

"Well, Uncle," she replied dryly, "I was on my way to meet my friends, but at the moment I'm being held up by my uncle for no reason."

"Do not get smart with me, young lady! You know perfectly well why we are having this discussion!" Vedris snapped.

"Actually, I don't, since we haven't discussed anything yet," Sandry said.

"Can we please finish this conversation later? I'm late."

"May we, and no, we may not!" her uncle yelled. "And as for your friends, you are perfectly free to meet them, provided you wash that infernal...STUFF off your face!"

"Honestly, Uncle! Make-up is the latest fashion! I'm not doing any harm!" cried Sandry, exasperated.

"On the contrary, young lady, you know very little of the irreparable harm you can wreak upon yourself by acting in such an irresponsible, loose moraled fashion," Vedris stated, trying to rein in his temper, and succeeding only partially.

"I know what I'm doing, Uncle!" Sandry yelled.

"Oh, do you now?" her uncle said sarcastically. "And please go and wash your face. This is not negotiable!"

"You just don't want me to have any fun. You're an old-fashioned spoil-sport!" she shouted.

"Excuse me?" Vedris said dangerously, glaring at his great-niece.

"Old-fashioned? Why, in my day, not only would no girl, not even the worst sort of harlot, have dared to paint her face, but all women of status wore veils. My mother, my sisters, my wife and my oldest daughters all wore veils when walking out into the scrutiny of the outside world."

"What?!" Sandry exclaimed, astounded.

"Sadly, that great custom has deteriorated over the years," continued Vedris, ignoring her outburst. "However, with any more recalcitrance on your part, my girl, to conform to conventional standards of propriety, I believe we could see it revived. And a good thing too, considering the way you young people act. Naive young girls like yourself need all the protection they can get, since they- and you- insist on running about like harlots."

Vedris paused for breath, and Sandry quickly interrupted the tirade. "I'm not a harlot! And as for the veils, that's just an example of how you used to oppress women."

"I beg your pardon?" Vedris said steelily.

Sandry ignored him. "I can't believe you made your family walk around like that. Talk about sexist! It would be like wearing a funeral shroud!"

An ominous silence fell over the room, as Vedris planned his response. "It was nothing like that," he insisted darkly, "as you will soon see if you continue to cross me. You will not go out with that stuff on your face, and if

I have to see you triply veiled to ensure that, then so be it!" These last words were roared so loudly that the ceiling shook and the chandelier jiggled dangerously.

"I-" Sandry began, then thought better of it. "Very well," she said stiffly, "as you wish, Uncle. I'll go wash it off."

"Good," Vedris said, still fuming, but pleased matters were going his way at last. "Someday, you'll thank me, Sandrilene, for saving your virtue."

"I doubt it," she hissed. "It's not like it was in any danger!" With that Sandry turned, giving her uncle a cursory wave, then strode from the room, heading in the direction of the washroom.

"Great gods!" Vedris whispered. "Maybe there's hope for the girl!"

Meanwhile, as soon as she was out of sight, Sandry doubled back around, rushing to a side gate to begin her evening out, mentally reminding herself to wash her face before saying good night to her uncle.