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Feb. 13th, 2005 11:25 amDelia lay awake in bed, curled around one of her pillows. She couldn’t sleep. Every time she began to dose off, another thought, another memory, came to the surface of her mind. With a muttered curse, the slender lady threw back her covers and stalked to the center of her room. Standing still, she composed herself and stared straight ahead. She was so bored. So utterly, completely, mind-numbingly bored. It hadn't been like this before. Surely not. Then...there was a point to it all. A point to the flirting and backstabbing, to the shocking and dancing... Catching hold of a memory of music and balls, Delia smiled slightly. She loved dancing. Really, it was the only thing where she didn't have to think -
Keeping that in mind, Delia sighed softly and began to dance. Slower then she would in truth, but this was only practise. Skip this way in a half circle, and then retrace your steps and then some…
Delia went through the steps, her eyes half-closed, remembering the few months when she had first come to court. She remembered being free and new. She remembered flirting with the heir to the Tortallan throne, while his friends watched on with jealousy.
As she moved back to bed, more asleep then awake, she remembered dancing with Prince Jonathan while Roger looked on with an amused smile…
…smoothly, she stepped away from the masked prince, laughing and breathless. She felt drunk and flushed, the heady air filled with the smell of scented candles, wine, and perfumed nobles. The masked ball was in full swing, with some of the candles dead on the iron chandeliers so the light was darker, redder, then it should be. Turning with the other dancers to face the dais, she curtsied deeply to the masked man on the single throne, spreading her crimsonrubygarnetblood red skirts wide and letting them fall back to her sides with a silken whisper.
Delia felt unbalanced by the heavy tiara on her head, and she had an urge to reach up and rip it off. But not here, not in this ball. She had to find Roger, to tell him that she knew his game and that he could…
Looking to the dais, she took a step back and bumped into someone in the now thick crowd. The masked man met her eyes and gave her an amused smile. Somehow, Delia knew those eyes would be a bright, bright blue.
Keeping that in mind, Delia sighed softly and began to dance. Slower then she would in truth, but this was only practise. Skip this way in a half circle, and then retrace your steps and then some…
Delia went through the steps, her eyes half-closed, remembering the few months when she had first come to court. She remembered being free and new. She remembered flirting with the heir to the Tortallan throne, while his friends watched on with jealousy.
As she moved back to bed, more asleep then awake, she remembered dancing with Prince Jonathan while Roger looked on with an amused smile…
…smoothly, she stepped away from the masked prince, laughing and breathless. She felt drunk and flushed, the heady air filled with the smell of scented candles, wine, and perfumed nobles. The masked ball was in full swing, with some of the candles dead on the iron chandeliers so the light was darker, redder, then it should be. Turning with the other dancers to face the dais, she curtsied deeply to the masked man on the single throne, spreading her crimsonrubygarnetblood red skirts wide and letting them fall back to her sides with a silken whisper.
Delia felt unbalanced by the heavy tiara on her head, and she had an urge to reach up and rip it off. But not here, not in this ball. She had to find Roger, to tell him that she knew his game and that he could…
Looking to the dais, she took a step back and bumped into someone in the now thick crowd. The masked man met her eyes and gave her an amused smile. Somehow, Delia knew those eyes would be a bright, bright blue.
