Jessa lay in her bed reading by candle light. Her father had told her not to do that, that someone might see the candle light in her room and know where the precious princess slept, which was supposed to be a secret. But Jessa loved reading and her father didn't like that either, so she had to read in secret whenever she could. She's eighteen years old and her father still pushes her around like she's ten, and she resents that.
Jessa's legs were folded up underneath her and her thin silk night gown covered her completely. If her legs were out it would only cover to about her knees, which was scandalously short for the time. The night gown is sleeveless, exposing her soft milky arms, but she's not cold. It's the dead middle of summer and her room is always hot. She has a curvy, full body, though it's almost always hidden underneath bulky dresses. Her dark brown hair is pinned up on top of her head, set for the curls she's going to need for a ball that is taking place tomorrow night. She had mixed feelings about the ball, she was just going to be forced to dance with a myriad of disgusting men that she didn't want to marry. She never got any handsome or charming men to dance with, all of her suitors were much older than her and lacked any kind of grace.
Her soft brown eyes were tired and worn. It seemed that every day her father had something else to complain to her about. She wasn't elegant enough or she was too formal. She didn't eat enough or she ate too much. She wasn't studious enough or she couldn't find time to have any fun. What she wanted was to spend her time quietly reading, preferably outside. But her father was so over protective that he thought the words on the page would damage her pure soul and that the sun would blemish her perfect skin.
Jessa's legs were folded up underneath her and her thin silk night gown covered her completely. If her legs were out it would only cover to about her knees, which was scandalously short for the time. The night gown is sleeveless, exposing her soft milky arms, but she's not cold. It's the dead middle of summer and her room is always hot. She has a curvy, full body, though it's almost always hidden underneath bulky dresses. Her dark brown hair is pinned up on top of her head, set for the curls she's going to need for a ball that is taking place tomorrow night. She had mixed feelings about the ball, she was just going to be forced to dance with a myriad of disgusting men that she didn't want to marry. She never got any handsome or charming men to dance with, all of her suitors were much older than her and lacked any kind of grace.
Her soft brown eyes were tired and worn. It seemed that every day her father had something else to complain to her about. She wasn't elegant enough or she was too formal. She didn't eat enough or she ate too much. She wasn't studious enough or she couldn't find time to have any fun. What she wanted was to spend her time quietly reading, preferably outside. But her father was so over protective that he thought the words on the page would damage her pure soul and that the sun would blemish her perfect skin.