burn my memory, burn my outline
the tears scream to scar your unpierced flesh
shattered mirrors reflecting back your face
'let your defenses fall'
[ Black Tape for a Blue Girl]
Dorothy knocked on Mandy's door and waited for an answer to come. When a few groans reached she opened the door and entered. She placed a small basket with warm, fragrant contents on Mandy's desk and asked:
"Care for breakfast?"
"I don't do breakfast." Mandy whined.
"There's freshly baked buttercake." Dorothy tried.
"How did you get that weirdo to bake you cake?"
"I baked it myself. Gavin told me he's never in the kitchen before noon."
"He told me he's going to supervise my training personally. He said I might not need too much surgery."
"Be wary of the gifts of strangers."
Dorothy's smile turned serious as she considered the words. She knew them to be true. Then she smiled again and said:
"I'm only looking for him to train me."
"If you say so."
Mandy struggled out of her bed, took a bite of the cake and moaned. Dorothy smiled even wider after that and Mandy decided that she could take a vacation of being bitchy for an hour. She'd already dropped her no-breakfast rule after all.
"Let's go to that salon-thingy."
"You don't sound very excited about that."
"I need my face set straight, make-up alone won't help me. You could use some pointers though."
Ok. Being bitchy wouldn't leave just because she wanted too. Dorothy didn't seem to be offended by it however. The two left the room together and walked across the yard. The terrain had been beautifully landscaped but some of the bushes had been left to thrive. Oddly though this only added to the charm of the arden. tghe atmosphere was one of gentle wildness.
Their goal for today, Miriam's salon was located in a small castle-like annex, complete with fake towers and flags. The presence in front of the annex was even more strange considering the surroundings. The woman's hair seemed like it had been braided and had shortly after exploded spontaneously. Her clothes were bright red and yellow and looked like an indian sarong.
"Are you Dorothy and Mandy?" the woman asked, "My name is Miriam, I am the stylist. Where is the other one?"
"Gilles told me he wouldn't come." Dorothy said.
"You met him?"
"Yeah, he said he was going back to sleep. He had had a bad night, told me something about doctor Björn and scalpels. He didn't seem in the mood to talk about make-up and hair. He's a man after all."
"A very proud man." Mandy shrugged.
"We have a lot of work." Miriam called, "Let's not dally. There's tea inside."