Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
I get out and dry off my body. As I'm pulling the dress back on, I now notice that it's purposely cut with a low back so my wings can be free without putting holes in the material. It's smart, not what I expected, honestly.
Esme comes up behind me and starts patting my wings dry with another towel. She takes care to ensure they're almost completely dry and there are no remaining splotches of red as she smooths them all out.
They look so much prettier when they're clean and dry. I'd say the feathers closest to my back are about four inches long and they increase in size as they go out and down the wing. The largest ones are probably around a foot long.
"Why do your feather have gold on them?" I ask her.
"I've been around for a long time," she says with a wry grin. "And it's because of my position. You'll learn about that and get some color soon enough."
She finishes her task and then goes back in the other room.
Esme seems anxious when she returns. Her hands are wringing and her foot is bouncing and her hairline glistens with a bit of sweat. Her eyes flick to the door and then back to me repeatedly.
She's making me nervous.
I'm a procrastinator through and through. Instead of doing my calculus homework, I've been writing all day. Great for you guys, not so much for me.