Deep within the primeval woodland, in the catacombs beneath a ruined city, by the feeble light of a single candle, clad in a fine linen shift and exquisitely-woven stockings of spider-silk (both of which she had made herself), royal seamstress Alexandreina added the finishing touches to her new silver brocade dress and looked over her handiwork with great satisfaction. Tonight was the Summer Solstice, there would be dancing and celebrations until dawn, and she would be the envy of her fellow servants. Having made the final stitch, she took the pins out, hastily stowed her materials away, and laced herself into her gorgeous masterpiece, savouring every swish and rustle of its beautiful, embroidered fabric.
Our Beloved Tyrants Scene 48
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