Appear as a Lady

Zemma hadn't seen Riddick, or Nor, in days. It was starting to wear on her a little bit.

You miss him?

Yes.

Jaron had been as good as his word. He had her things brought, and checked on Nor daily in the zoo kennel where she was recovering, nicely. But she couldn't bring herself to ask about Riddick. Meanwhile he taught her better self-defense and made her work 'till she ached all over. She practically dove into the bath every evening when he released her from her duties.

"You're stronger than most women and likely some men, just being Furian. Gravity on our planet was heavier than most favored by human stock. But you've got to develop it further, as well as your speed. You're quick, but you're not FAST. Yet."

Zemma had to agree with that; she had seen it for herself. Jaron had complimented her on her dedication to 'become a better soldier.' She had smiled at him thinking about Riddick and Nor, stalking the last two men in her suite and looking at each other just before their respective strikes.

…Like mates.

And then feeling completely inadequate after the queasiness her kill had instilled in her.

'It gets easier with practice.'

Practice meant long hours and lots of bruises. But it kept the Now in perspective. Mostly it kept her from thinking too much about either Riddick or Nor.

"There is no 'future.' Every moment's decisions changes every other possible moment." Jaron took the Now more seriously than her father had conveyed to her. "There is no point in dwelling on the past except to see what it can teach you."

Which sounded a lot like 'deal with it when it gets here' but she had nodded gravely and tried to understand the almost spiritual importance he placed on the Now.

Meanwhile W'Rdah and some of his men became the new Chief of Security and crew. Zemma had to admit she didn't have time right now. Jaron told her she didn't have the requisite knowledge of the common man to do the job justice; she had spent the whole of her life living with Lords and Ladies, and they were a different breed altogether.

That rankled a bit but she couldn't find fault with his logic. She could see a Lord hatching a scheme from twenty paces, but had no idea the entire flag ship crew was on the verge of mutiny, let alone what to do about it. It came as quite a shock when he told her so.

"Most grunts don't care what the upper rank do, as long as it's consistent and doesn't interfere with the consistency of their own lives. But these people have been programmed with an almost zealous interest in their nobles, as a means of salvation. They need to see their aristocracy acting dignified and content to feel at ease and give their own lives meaning."

Hence, the party, and a day off from her new obligation of daily bruises, to heal up a bit.

Jaron had already spoken with Riddick about it. From his tone of voice she gathered it had not been an easy conversation. She smiled inwardly and wished she could have seen it. Jaron insisted she appear as a Lady on his arm. And warned her that recently widowed Ladies would be vying for Riddick's attentions, and a chance to improve their station.

She tried not to think about that part but it was, after all, the point of moving into Jaron's suite. They needed to put some distance between Zemma and the new Lord Marshal or she would continue to be a target. No one mentioned the alternative of just making her his Lady and becoming a permanent part of the Lord Marshal's suite and it's extra security. Zemma herself thought it was an outlandish idea.

Why? Don't you…

Shush.

Don't you think he…

No. I doubt that very much. Now be quiet or help me decide what to wear.

Zemma had a few formal dresses she wore on the arm of her Ferrin, as Min. They were not flattering and not meant to be. They were meant to make people look away. Not horrendously ugly, just not the kind of thing a mature woman would choose to wear. She had giggled inwardly, as Ladies had giggled behind their hands. Fooling them had often been the high point of her usually boring days.

Now these costumes, they weren't really dresses in her mind, were inappropriate and, well, embarrassing.

Jaron had his formal military uniforms. But she imagined Riddick was in a similar bind, as he would need to be outfitted as Lord Marshal. Doubtful that he would want to wear the old Marshal's uniform, even if it did fit. She could not longer recall how large a man the old Marshal had actually been, everything he did was meant to make him seem larger than life. What would Riddick decide on?

What are you going to choose?

The screen before her showed many styles still available from the seamstress.

What if…

No. Hiding in the suite, for the rest of your life, is not an option.

Jaron laid a hand on her shoulder. "Having trouble, my dear?"

Zemma threw up her hands and sat back. "There's nothing here in drab gray," she said facetiously, with a wry grin. Jaron had a warm chuckle that invited you to laugh along with him, rather than Riddick's loud delight. But she liked it too.

"Let's see what you have here…" Jaron commented as he scrolled through pages. "No, you're too tall for that… Much too short for that… Hmn, I don't think that looks very comfortable…Who would wear that, never mind, probably two of them will show up in it… What do you think of that one?"

"Jaron, I think you have me confused with someone who's built with more…"

"No, no, it will have supports that…" he stopped. "Never mind, it will take four hands to get you in it properly if you aren't familiar with the apparatus. What about this one?"

It was off the shoulder, but had sleeves to the elbow; she couldn't quite picture how that worked but apparently it did. The neckline didn't plunge to her shoes, which she considered a requirement. It was backless, which was all right, she thought she had a nice back as backs go, and also didn't plummet beyond where ordinary backs ended. It reached the floor but was open on one side so she wouldn't feel like a pastry. And the color was beautiful.

Silvery blue.