Framed in metal, the rubies set in Bvlgari diamonds lining my neck, refracted candlelight from towering lampposts onto the visor of my impala convertible. The Seville dusk, a background of violet lilies and rust the shade of dried orange rinds, subtly wrapped around the masses adorned in deep satin and fur, setting the sultry stillness.
Painting my lips with a last swipe of cherry gloss, the cream porcelain masking the upper half of my face balanced the sheer starkness, marrying the matching corset. The task on hand would have been simple, straight forward were the target like any other arrogant brat of a socialite.
Tonight the objective was to catch eyes of the last Greenbriar heir—drunk at every hand of the clock though the unwavering smirk carved into his face raised questions against the lack of sobriety.
On the steps leading to the cathedral holding the masquerade ball, humans turned otherworldly. Ears were moulded into elven ones, dresses paired with mother of pearl wings, fingers fauxed to hold extra knuckles. My hair was pinned up in a pair of horns, wrapped in golden chains running with waves of chestnut down my back. Faint whispers of violins escaped the salón de baile, reining in arriving attendees as soft lingering notes turned flirtatious. Drawn in by the movement, my silk skirt was one among the hundreds.
Hanging from the center of the domed ceiling, flames in the tiered chandelier moved with the light breeze, casting glow over the otherwise shadowed fresco murals. The curved arches trapped enough warmth for guests to shed their shrugs, revealing lace gloves under bejewelled rings as partners joined hands and broke into the emerging cypher waltz.
Near the outskirts of the ballroom, close to the entryway, the glint of a canine caught my searching eyes. On any other man it would have crafted the darkest of fantasies, though his resembled the cunning mind of a fox—brought to reality by the set of auburn feline ears atop his head—oddly enough the exact shade of his curls.
Women of higher and lesser calibre flaunted their vulnerable skin in his periphery, hoping to be entertained yet clueless to his mirth-fuelled eyes—exposing how he was planning on bending them around more than his finger. It shone light on the fact that the material mask absent from his face was not needed to hide his many personalities.
He was after all Cardan Greenbriar's "court jester" and near closest friend. A hint of humanity or shred of care found diminished any worth of that being in front of the self-acclaimed prince.
The scene currently panning out was similar to the event preserved in oil paint on the walls. The hierarchy is as divided as before, each in roles of trivial chess pieces.
Forgetting each board has two marionettes.
Locke covered his eyes with one hand while the other filed past the line of girls eagerly waiting. Going back and forth to draw out the suspense, his finger finally twisted around a strand of cotton candy pink hair. Pulling her close he announced her his lady of the night, dramatically apologising after the chorus of disappointment as they made their way to the widening circle.
Lifting my hand to catch a ticket into the waltz, a man wrapped his palm around mine in a beat. His wide build and haunting eyes were ones I had familiarized myself with prior. Valerian. What he fell short in beauty, his violent tendencies made up for it.
His steps maintained grace he could not force onto his hands, calloused fingertips digging in. Instead of furthering his satisfaction by distancing, I dragged him closer. Others may have found the filled gap vulgar but the one in front of me was repulsed by my lack of fear.
I wasn't spineless enough to satisfy his need to hunt, yet perfect for his master to play and break.
Fanciful murmurs of string instruments fell weak against the drawl of the xylophone, manipulating the atmosphere into a mischievous ensemble. The circle of bodies spun each other quicker, hearty laughters echoed around as pairs separated and landed in opposite ends of the hall. Valerian forgotten yet a shiver crawled down my spine. With a subtle shake of my head I made the curls in front of my shoulders fall back to hide my unease.
