Work Text:
You bore of walls. Your new canvas is your face, and you squint at it in the mirror like Mama does before painstakingly layering the paints on. You pick the same purple for your lips, and the same carmine for the cheeks. Once done, it occurs to you that blush need not be red for a blue skin tone, so you smudge in a healthy dose of navy to balance it. Next comes a bold emerald for your eyes, and thick black zigzags over your wispy eyebrows.
You are contemplating your bare arms, just begging for tattoos, when the door outside creaks an hour early. After blotting a few runaway streaks of pigment, you rush out. “Mama, look!”
Mama turns from her potion cabinet and bends down, just as you lunge. Your makeup is striking enough to surprise even her, and as she takes your hands and grasps them firmly, she struggles to put her reaction into words. “Jester, my- I- what stunning artistry!”
“Like you!” You toss your hair and wriggle, childish joy brimming over. “You should tell Bluud not to play cards. He always loses, and he’s always so mad about it.”
“You heard the commotion?” When you nod, she does too, with added solemnity. “I will speak to him about showing a little more discretion.”
Discretion. You giggle at the elegance of the word. Then you begin to inspect Mama closely, looking for discrepancies between her and yourself. She chose a gold eye shadow today, not green, but you can dig up the glitter bottles you got for your birthday and fix that. You look further-
And whimper, “Oh no.” Mama’s silken sleeve has traces of red to match your cheeks. “I thought the paint all dried by now.”
“Ah,” she breathes. Upon noticing the mark, she stares down at it more intensely than you did. It is an ugly stain, and has marred something of the highest value.
You curl in on yourself. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
Her head jerks up to see the water gathering in your eyes.
“Oh, my little sapphire.” She pulls you forward into an embrace, without any fear of your sticky face. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Really?”
The Ruby of the Sea strokes your hair and blinds you with her most dazzling onstage smile. “Nothing wrong at all.”
Pressed into her, her chin against your stubby horns, you can look at her even more closely. She has sharp features, and the shadows are a little less prominent than they should be. She must be wearing an extra glamour, on top of her paint. You can’t wait- one day you’ll learn how to wear illusions too.