There was something about staring into a mirror made several hundred years ago, during which time the country it had been made by had been fighting a war against your own.

She didn’t know what that something was. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

Nenet mulled over that thought as she adjusted the neckline of her dress, tucked a short lock of hair behind her ear and took inventory of her face (and the room, with its rails of old dresses, gaudy jewellery displayed by mannequins and walls decorated in gold). 

She picked up a tube of red lipstick and began to apply it, green eyes staring back at herself.

Perhaps that something was the feeling of what it must have been like, hundreds of years ago, going about your daily life with the threat of an invasion by people who fought like wild things and never surrendered.

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