sixwordstories | (no subject)

Ah, the familiar siren call of...oooh.

[This is going to be a problem.]

That's just not fair. I bought my wedding shoes already.

You could buy them for me and borrow them. Sometimes. ((Seems like a good idea to her.))

Or these. Or better yet, donate all that wedding gift money to my charity. It'll go to the good cause of overhauling my wardrobe.

Didn't you get enough when I donated half a dozen to the cause a few weeks ago? [She hasn't even thought about wedding gifts and money and all of that. There's not really anything they needs though.]

Those are fabulous. You could wear them to work. And you know I'd be happy to, but...I might be getting five cheese graters and three sets of Revereware instead. And an entire colony of toasters.

Edited (DAMN YOU HTML) 2013-03-02 16:51 (UTC)

If the shoes are calling, that sounds like a big problem. I'm sure it's just a metaphor, but you can never be too sure with footwear.

There's never enough, Zoe Kattalakis. We Raos aren't in the habit of being happy with what we have. ((She straightens in her chair, even though her posture is already near perfect.))

And that is why you make a registry and don't include cheese graters on it. Like, ever. Sometimes I wish I was getting married just for the shoes and the gifts, but then I remember that would involve living with a man for the rest of my life. ((She wrinkles her nose.)) Not an enticing concept. I don't know how you're doing it.

No, not literally. ((She raises an eyebrow at him.)) I prefer silent footwear

You do? [ He looks down at his pair of battered white trainers, and he then looks back up to her. ] So do I. My guess you're a big fan of shopping for shoes.

I should have, but I could hear Victor: We don't need anything, Zoe. Which, honestly, is true. I got dishes and stuff when I moved into my own apartment. My aunt Olivia was sure I was going to be a domestic goddess.

[She was better at it now, but not exactly producing gourmet meals for two on a regular basis.]

Would you register for shoes? I feel like it's something I could actually use, you know? One pair of gold Pradas, two pair of Ferragamos in blue and red. I could go on, probably forever.

It's not so bad, though. Living with him. He just silently accomadates for what I want, or need...mostly.

Just because you don't need anything doesn't mean you don't want some things more than others. ((She nods seriously.)) And you can register for anything you want. What the hell? You're the one getting married.

Yes, but you're in love. I'm going to get stuck with whoever my parents choose for me. ((She taps at her computer, a twist in her lips.)) And I don't like sharing.

That's... not something you have to guess at. I'm a bit vocal about my enthusiasm for shoes.

I should have registered for Carolina Herrera and Manolo Blahnik. It would have been beautiful.

How does that work, anyway? The matchmaking thing, I mean. Do you have dates?

Yes, it would've been. Now you're stuck with an army of toasters. What a pity. ((Except she sounds more amused than anything.))

Pretty much. Our parents set up when and where we meet, though, so it's not really exciting. Still a sight better than traditional Indian arrangements. Back in the day, it was way different.

I might just train them as attack dogs. All the effectiveness, none of the hair. [Victor would undoubtedly be pleased with her ingenuity.]

What was it like then? No meetings at all before the wedding? I've read books like that, and it always seems like it works out far better than it really should.

If that works, let me know. I feel like it'd cut down the expenses on castle security by a ton.

((She snorts.)) No, not quite. Back in my grandparents' time, they'd meet once before the wedding. Since it was a male-dominated society or whatnot, the man would sit down and the girl would serve him tea and sing to him. And the man would be like "yeah, she's hot, I can marry her" or "no, sorry, but this tea is shit". That's how it was the first time my grandparents met.

[The toaster army of Spade Castle. This is what she's going to think about when Edison is inevitably insubordinate on Monday.

But not now. Now she's going to give Kritika the most disbelieving of looks.]

...Tea? And singing? Seriously? I'd be so fucked; Victor sings better than I do.

Yes. Still a sight better than never meeting until the wedding. ((She gives her a mischievous look.)) You could dance too. That was always an option. The point was showing off how cultured and womanly you were.

And doesn't that sound like a recipe for me constantly blushing. [She leans her chin on her hand.] I think I'm just as glad that our first meeting was more whiskey and the two-step.

That might also be part of the point. Girls are more valuable when they're blushing, innocent damsels. Reason number one as to why I wouldn't have survived back then.

Oh, come on, you could impersonate a shy flower of maidenhood if you really wanted to.

Of course, you probably wouldn't really want to, and Katya would be horribly disappointed.

I would never want to, possibly for the sole reason that Katya would think less of me. ((What? A ridiculous devotion to their Queen? No way...))

[Zoe giggles a little bit at that.] It seems valid. Can't be having the Queen think less of us.

And so, we're strong independent women of the 21st century. Don't become a housewife, Zoe. I like you too much for that.

Katya lifts white and then black Nicholas Kirkwood and smiles at other woman.

"Always they sing to me. How am I to choose only one?"

"Why would you only choose one, Miss Krylenko?" She helps you in all other parts of your life, Katya.

But she cannot hold you back here.

It's kind of fun to play at, every once in a while. But I think I might pull a knife on my beloved fiance if I had to have a hot meal on the table when he got home from the office.