NOMI
Diana had left me alone for just long enough to get dressed, which was generous, considering I still felt like I was under surveillance even in the privacy of my room. The outfit waiting for me on the chair was… alarming, to say the least.
Black, sleek, sculpted to the curves of my body in a way that was impossible without careful tailoring, soft but deadly. The fabric felt like a second skin, hugging in the right places, letting me move without restriction but somehow also demanding attention. Sharp lines, subtle panels that cut like knives in the light, but somehow… comfortable. Unbelievably comfortable. I slid into it and felt a flicker of dare I say it confidence.
I caught myself staring in the mirror longer than I should have, assessing how the light caught the subtle stitchin
