Satin is Not Silk

2 | LE DESIGNER

♬

Whenever Alex couldn't clear his head he liked to go for a walk. His walks weren't your average walk, either. Sometimes he'd go for miles with no true sense of direction or purpose. Sometimes he'd follow the sun, while other times it felt like he was trying to escape it. There were no patterns to his walks, no set routine. The only thing consistent about them was him, but even then the source of his anguish always differed.

He'd walked about two miles or so away from his home when he heard clattering footsteps behind him. Before he even had a chance to turn around, the source of the noise sped right last time, disheveled and carrying a heavy bag as if late for a practice or class of some sort.

"Sorry mate!" he said, barely sparing a glance back.

That voice.

Alex would be lying if he said the disruption to his angst-filled walk didn't piss him off, but that feeling was quickly replaced with curiosity. His smooth voice was uncanny; Ezra Maris had just performed a human hit and run on him.

What the hell was he still doing here?

Alex let him run a few paces ahead of him before he started after. Ezra had already risked his life by sneaking into the ball. Now that the mask was gone, the risk was even higher. Whatever he was up to that was worth this much couldn't have been good for Aurum, so of course he followed him. At least, that's what he told himself.

He quickly hurried behind, and followed as far as he could until Ezra suddenly disappeared behind a street corner. When he caught up, Ezra had completely vanished into thin air.

Goddamn, he thought, I lost him.

It was at this point where he finally gave up, for he'd never be able to find him any of the nearby buildings (assuming that's where he went). It was also at this point where Alex realized how late it'd become while he was out and about. Granted, it did take the glow of several dangling lanterns for him to realize that the street he stood on was no longer the same one from earlier today.

Aurum at night was nothing like Aurum during the day. During the day, Alex was free to roam the streets with few cares or worries. Nighttime, however, was a different, wild animal. Hoards crowded the street as people transformed into hedonistic beasts. It was almost like the night sky either entranced them in a spell or released them from one; although neither were likely the case.

Most probably, a manic city can only truly be described as an effect of a society that craved absolute perfection and aesthetic. The night simply hid their flaws, pent up selfish desires and sexual escapades. Then, when sun came again to light up the world, they were perfect once more.

It was an odd feeling being surrounded by these people. They wore what they wanted, said what they needed, and did as they pleased. But above all else, they lived for themselves. He grew overwhelmingly envious and pretty soon found himself feeling guilty for how he rudely treated his sister when all she wanted to do was help him.

Don't you want to be happy for once?

He took another look at the people around him. He also frowned at the sight of a man and woman yelling at a security guard who'd thrown them both out of a bar partially stripped--of clothes and dignity, then sighed.  I'm never going to make it home on time.

♬

When Alex finally made his way back, he was greeted shouting and frustration. It came somewhere from the dining room, and echoed down the long hallway.

"I don't understand why I can't be there. I deserve every right to understand what is happening right now! I'm a member of this family." Anastasia projecting at the top of her lungs.

"You just can't," his father shouted in return, "that's not your job to worry about."

She retaliated, "why not? You always encourage Alex to come with you to diplomatic meetings. And he never once cared for any of it."

Ouch (but true).

"It's too dangerous! I'm not letting you become involved in something beyond your capabilities. Not now. Not after...what happened to your mother."

"My mother's death was an accident. A little bump in the road to the creation of everlasting peace." When Anastasia spoke, she spoke with a voice so sour it sent shivers down his spine.

"You are not going." his father said. "My decision is final."

Alex panicked when he heard footsteps leaving the kitchen. He didn't want his father to know that he was eavesdropping, and hurried back to the entrance so that it'd seem like he just arrived. His father took one glance at him when they met. Alex gulped.

"Ask Grace to prepare you dinner." was all he said before ascending up the staircase.

Alex made his way to the kitchen, where he saw Anastasia sitting by the table with her elbows propped and eyes buried in her hands. It sounded like she was crying, but it wasn't until she looked up to reveal her swollen face that he knew for sure.

"Did you hear everything?" she asked, voice devoid of emotion.

"Kinda."

Anastasia then went back to burying her face in her hands, clearly too tired to deal with him right now. It was foolish, but he couldn't help but press on.

"I don't really understand though. Why are you so interested in politics all of a sudden?"

She took a deep breath and a few seconds of silence to compose herself once more. Alex waited patiently before she finally redirected her gaze back to him. The way she looked at him felt strangely foreign. These weren't the eyes from this morning that told him to follow his dreams. These were eyes ready to tell him that reality was a nightmare.

"The other day I went to the eastern border. It's nothing like how it is over here. People are dying." She hesitated briefly, clearly debating if it was wise to continue. "When we were told about a peaceful truce, I thought it meant an end to all war. But Ferrum is hostile, Alex, and a signed sheet of paper promising an end to war does nothing to control their hatred. I want to help put an end to this, but Father insists that I'm incapable."

"It's dangerous becoming involved. He's just worried about you."

Anastasia fell silent, and Alex sighed, completely unsure of what to say. He wanted to ask why she was at the border in the first place, but decided it best to be there as silent moral support. Though, the question would forever be at the back of his mind. They both said nothing for what felt like an eternity.

"I think...I'm going to take the costume designing job," he said sheepishly. "The one for the ballet."

He was worried when Anastasia didn't react at first. He thought he'd made matters worse by changing the topic, but breathed a sigh of relief when she smiled softly.

"What made you change your mind?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

To be honest, he didn't quite know the answer to her question. Was it the sight of townspeople living imperfectly and recklessly under the moonlight? Or was it the sight of Anastasia, who wanted desperately to do something with her life but had her chance stolen from her? Perhaps neither were the case. Perhaps, his mind never changed because his answer had always been yes. Perhaps the only thing holding himself back was his fear.

"I don't know," he said, and it was true. "I really don't know."

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sorry for the super late update! i'm really bad at world building and beginning books so this took much longer than I predicated!

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