Inktober 2025 - 17 - Ornate

She could have gotten lost in the intricate patterns on her dress for hours on end. Truthfully, she actually had. On several occasions, too.

Both on the bodice and the skirt, and down to the train, every single piece of lace was delicately hand-woven into the tiniest unique shape. Minuscule characters - people, birds, even horses - seemed like they were floating around among the flowery loops and abstract curls traced across the white fabric. There were sequins and pearls of various sizes sewn into layers of tulle, themselves here and there folded with origami-like precision into more frilly decorations. To put it simply, no square centimetre of the whole garment, including its considerably large veil, was the same as another.

The reason for this level of sophistication was that generation after generation of her fiancé's family had added their very own personal touch to the ensemble. As she had been told, it had first started with a very plain three-hole dress. From there, every first born of every generation had inherited the dress, and taken it upon themselves to make it ever more elaborate upon their own nuptials. And now, as she had agreed to marry into this massive dynasty, it was her turn.

The thing was, she had never been the kind of girl to dream about her wedding day. She never particularly wanted to be a princess, unless maybe she could also be a warrior. Although she never doubted for a second that she liked boys, she was never particularly impatient to meet her one either. She was of the opinion that it would happen if and when it did, by itself, without any effort on her part; if her match existed, he would love her for who she was, just as she would love him for who he was. She did have an idea in the back of her mind that she would like to get married and have a family some day, but nothing very concrete. And now she had met that man, and there she was, faced with this huge responsibility of picking up the baton an entire line of women had been handing down to one another for ages. This was a lot more than she had bargained for. Could she handle it?

She had known about the dress very early on in the relationship; he made no secret of it, and neither should he, because having such a strong tradition in one's family is a thing of beauty. She would however be lying if she claimed it had not made her pause when he had proposed. As if the idea of marriage was not daunting enough in itself! The craftsmanship on this outfit was so exquisite that she had barely dared to touch it in the first place, never mind put it on. But maybe that was why all the women before her had added a little something to it; to make it truly there and therefore a little less intimidating.