Flower was having a hard time finding her room. It was almost embarrassing how many times she turned about. Her own chit's symbol was akin to an arrow design, but it surely was not pointing the way.
"Sure you don't want some help?" Deandra inquired from her own room's door.
"I've got it," Flower told her, the redhead's pride getting the best of her otherwise practical nature. Odd as she was, there was no denying Deandra had been among their most ardent welcomers. Still, Flower wanted to learn somethings on her own. She wouldn't always have others about, after all.
Down one hall, she say the door Richelle had gone into a moment ago, and thought she heard a stranger's voice with a rather nasty snide tone. Flower wondered for a moment if the merchant girl needed some help herself?
Then she noticed the door with the same arrow design, "Oh, if it were a snake would have bit me." She observed to herself and moved to it. She gave a knock.
"Come in, please," the voice was soft yet had enough power to be heard through the door.
Flower did just that.
In the center of the room was a ghost, at least, she looked to Flower like a ghost. While the dress the ghost wore was dove gray, it looked darker than that clashing with the skin that it touched. The flesh of the ghost was akin to a pearl tinged ever so slightly with rose about the lips and cheeks. Her hair was whiter still, like snow falling before contact with the street could soil it. And her eyes were blue, but such a light shade that only the whites around the iris made it stand out.
The redheaded girl gaped at the ghost without even glancing at the empty bed that was clearly meant for her. Someone had arranged clean, even fancy sheets for her, and no less than three pillows, one of them quite fancy with lace.
After the stare went on for a bit, the ghost sighed, "It doesn't get any better with appraisal, I'm afraid."
Flower blushed and abruptly felt very foolish. This girl was as flesh and blood as she. Just very oddly hued, "Well, I feel quite the idiot," She admited, "For a moment I thought you were a ghost."
The pale girl gave a smile of indulgence and dignified resignation, "You wouldn't be the first. I do hope you're my new room mate? One of the commoner girls were were told would be joining us?"
"That's me," Flower nodded, then, thinking it over, she offered out her hand. She would not be held slave to silly superstition, and she doubted this girl was contagious or they'd never let her in the school no matter how high ranking she was, "My name's Flower."
For a moment, the other girl did not take the offered hand and Flower wondered if her earlier poor behavior had put them on the wrong footing, or if this lass just wasn't ready to shake hands with one of common birth. The former should have worried her more, but the latter actually annoyed her. Most of Nantys were common born, and it were common born folk that provided the food, crafts, trade and even soldiers for the land.
Then the pale girl took Flower's hand. It was a bit limp fish, clearly the noble woman wasn't used to handshakes.
Others are worried it's contagious as well, Flower realized. Rather than feeling gratified that others were squemish, the redhead felt oddly more irritated at herself for falling in with narrowminds. "More like this," Flower dared, "Tighten up the grip a bit."
And with that she coaxed the aristocrat into a firmer grip "Soft but firm, you see?"
It was definitely the pale girl's turn to be surprised, "I see. I.. thank you. Most don't want to shake my hand ... given my condition such as it is. I'm Gwyneira of House Dasawn. Charmed."
The hand shake broke in a timely fashion, and Flower said "Don't mention it. High Court probably has a lot of knuckle kissing and such I imagine?"
"I hear it does at times, but I don't often get invitations," Gwyneira gave an elegant shrug.
"On account of your condition," Flower surmised, trying to mask her curiosity on just what Gwyneira's condition was. She didn't know what lands House Dasawn held, its heraldry, or anything like that and hoped her new room mate didn't expect her too.
"Exactly," Gwyneira nodded, "Some think it a bit too akin to leprosy."
"Pshaw," Flower snorted at that, "You're no Leper. You're pale, not marred nor losing fingers or the like. Seen a leper, a real one. His face looked like wax what had been poked at too much, and his fingers were down to nubs, poor bastard."
Gwyneira looked more than a touch disquieted at the description and seemed eager to cut Flower off from going into more detail, "Yes, I can only imagine. It's not leprosy. One can't catch it under any means. One is simply born with it."
Flower couldn't stand it anymore, "Just what IS your condition? what's it called?"
"Albinism is the scholarly term," Gwneira looked a bit amused "Was not knowing really bothering you?"
"It was," Flower let her relief at knowing show, "I can be curious, and my mother always says everyone is ignorant about something, but it takes a special kind of dunderhead to be so proud of not knowing they refuse to learn."
Gwyneira started to laugh, then covered her mouth as if she was surprised it escaped her, or even a bit embarrassed, "I think your mother must be very wise."
"She is," Flower agreed without shame, "Plenty smart too. Your folks?"
At that, Gwyneira's face fell a bit, "My mother and father are not close to me. I couldn't tell you what they're like."
Flower felt sympathetic, "I don't know who my father was either, it's okay."
At that Gwyneira's pale blue eyes bulged a bit, "No no, I mean, I know who they are. I've seen them, it's just they let a nanny raise me. I'm... not their idea of a perfect daughter so they don't interact with me much. They discourage me from going out and about, and not just because direct sunlight is disadvantageous to me. I embarrass them."
Flower pondered this, then said, "At the risk of offending you, can I be blunt?"
"You seem to have that capacity, yes," Gwyneira nodded.
Flower smirked at that, "MAY I be blunt?" She corrected.
"Go on," Her new room mate told her.
"Your parents seem to be at least as great cowards as my father was. Gods Teeth, I've hair like a nest on fire and spots all about me and my mother loves me and tells me I'm beautiful even when I know she's exaggerating. At least your complexion is even, if ghostly pale, and your parents won't even look at you unless they have to and want nothing to do with you? Cowards."
Gwyneira looked shocked, "I want for nothing. I'm provided for."
"They're aristocrats. Their HORSES want for nothing, their daughter deserves better," Flower snorts, "They get no points for me for 'paying' to have you taken care of."
Gwyneira frowned at this, and Flower realized that despite her warning about bluntness, she might have gone too far.
"I'm an aristocrat too, Flower, and they ARE my parents. However little they think of me, I must ask you not to insult them in my presence," Gwyneira insisted.
Flower threw her hands up, "But they don't respect you, they want nothing to do with you, why would you defend them?"
Gwyneira gave it some thought, taking a seat on her own bed. Flower found herself sitting on the one that would be her own.
Then the arisocrat spoke up, "Because whether they treated me with honor or not, I have my own honor, and I'll hold to it. For my sake as much as theirs and defending family is part of that honor. You'd defend your mother yes?"
"I would, but ..." Flower almost said that at least her mother loved her enough to care for her, to raise her with her own hands and never be ashamed, but it occurred to her that Gwyneira might not understand how much harder it was to have a woman with near nothing raise a daughter than two arisocrats who had every thing to just hire someone.
Instead, the redhead sighed, "As you wish. Are you always this nice? "
"I don't know," the albino replied, "I don't have many people who associate with me long or often enough to be sure. Would it help if I got mean?"
"Now and then maybe," Flower smirked "If we don't ever get annoyed with each other we'll not be proper room mates I suspect."
"Oh" Gwyneira considered, and seemed to mull it over, "Well then, your hair really DOES look like a nest on fire."
"Well, you're pretty," Flower returned, "But you really DO look like a ghost."
Gwyneira, without missing a beat, replied "Boo."
Flower couldn't help it, she broke out into laughter, and to her surprise, Gwyneira joined her!