[color=salmon][h2][center] Michaela Müller-Hohenstein[/center][/h2][/color]

Michaela stood amongst the group of greater nobles, her expression the perfect depiction of ’solemn’ and never giving away her personal feelings of the circumstances at hand as the Meretrix gave her final prayers after the speeches from the country’s crown hopefuls. Knowing her father, she was sure he had some snide, though likely amusing, commentary to go with the whole event from his perch on a bench towards the back of the Cathedral. As a cripple, it was easier on his broken body to sit, so it was her duty to represent their house amongst the greater nobility during important social events. While she has never known him otherwise, the knowledge of her beloved father’s constant pain was enough for her to harbor an extreme hatred towards individuals of the same profession that were the cause of his suffering. It brought her joy to know their skeletons still decorated the harbors back home.

With the funeral procession at a close, she turned to face her lady in waiting, Ilse, her hair sparkling like rubies in the sunlight that poured through the stained glass as she moved to speak to her brown-haired companion. Being in the thick of the procession, Michaela was starting to feel uncomfortable with the heavy hot air that had begun to build inside the building from the mass of bodies crammed within its doors. 

“Ilse, We’ll head outside to meet back with my father and cousin since there won’t be a feast that we need to attend.” 

“Yes, M’lady.” the young woman replied, turning to walk in step with Michaela as they slowly made their way back out onto the street. Their black dresses whispered as they walked, with the duchess’ dress more ornate than her companions and striking against her pale skin. Their boot heels softly clacking against the marble floors, adding to the chorus of all others making their way back into circulating air.
 
“It’s a good thing we are wearing black, or else everyone will start to see the sweat stains from this ungodly heat...” Isle commented softly as they walked, comfortable to speak with Michaela in such a casual manner. The women have been together since they were little girls and knew better than to make any important kind of conversation in such a public setting. 

“It’s nice to know that with all that lays before us, you’re most concerned about sweat stains.” Michaela replied, her smokey blue eyes dancing with amusement as she spoke in a similar tone and bringing her head close to ensure no other overheard their friendly banter amongst the soft murmur of the crowd. 

“Oh, but of course M’lady!” Ilse replied without skipping a beat. “It is social death for a lady to appear in public under such a primal state with body fluids flowing down our sleeves and pooling from underneath our breast bands. You might as well bring back the Pontefix and Meretix to hold another funeral sermon to lay my social life to rest.”

Michaela smiled, her face lighting up with amusement. “And have to sit through another stifling procession? I think not! I’m sure we can still find you work in some corner of the estate where your breasts and pits can sweat free of judgment…”

The two women giggled softly hiding their smiles behind hands sporting lacy black gloves, the gentle afternoon breeze playing through their gowns as they stepped back out into the world.