GRETA:
"You look breathtaking!" Imogen walks into the room with a large cream colored dress in her hand. She carefully places it on the dress stand before coming over to my vanity table, where I am seated behind the mirror.
My hair has been curled into fat curls that bounce around my shoulders. My makeup is immaculate, giving off the pristine energy and reminding me that soon enough, I would become Queen.
But I am not in any way happy. The ritual had been traumatizing enough, introducing me to a culture I never at all understand. That had happened two days ago.
I'd worn nothing but a plain white dress, bare feet as we walked all the way to the temple. I'd knelt beside Klaus, my hands in his as strangely dressed shamans walked around us with censors in their hands, almost choking me to
