In the Slaters' drawing room, a low fire burned in the fireplace, its gentle crackle swallowed by the rustle of fabrics laid upon the table.
"What do you think about this, milady?" the merchant asked, his hands clasped respectfully as Lady Irina examined the quality of the silk.
"Hm," the vampiress hummed, her red eyes gliding over the material before she remarked, "I suppose it will turn beautiful if we pair it with the translucent chiffon along the neckline and the ends of the sleeves." Her gaze softened as it fell upon the little Ruelle in her arms. "What do you think, darling?"
Right now, Ruelle sat upon the vampiress's lap, her small hands still on the sides of her skirts, her feet dangling above the carpet. One of Lady Irina's arms rested carefully around the young girl's waist and the unfamiliar closeness made Ruelle sit unmoving.
"The young miss seems quite overwhelmed by the number of fabrics," the merchant stated with a polite smile.
