Beauty
From all the tea party she had attend, she learned the sweetness of beauty, especially the crown prince
And now, she realized the danger of it
"It is an honor to meet you, Marquis"
The woman bowed, low and controlled. Every move was fluid—like a puppet trained for years to do such thing. A sweet scent of cinnamon spread into the air, stronger with every move the woman did. Not only sight, even scent scream beauty.
Like a cello—sweet melody with every move of string
"The honor is mine"
Her father smiled, answering with the same courtesy
"And this beauty… is it Violet? What do you think Altaris?"
Said the woman, loud and clear. Violet brow rose, small—but enough to be noticed. That was how confused she was: about the whole thing. Her realm was built around attuqiete told by her tutors, and the sentence completely obliterate it
She was higher, a daughter of marquis
And for viscount to judge a marquis…
Was as strange as how his gaze dawn upon her
Honestly, after 5 years of learning to be a noble, she was already used to be seen: both for her beauty or standing. The remains of Tiernan stare still latch under her skin, unable to be forgotten. But the boy gaze—was different.
It was straight, into her eyes peeling inside her mind. She could tell how deep the boy was judging
And her skin crawl under it
Before she knew, the stare last for few minutes. Even time stood frozen. The boy never moved his point of focus—only her eyes, locked into an unbending vow. She saw her own eyes every single day behind the glass, and she was sure it was rather dull, compared to other thing her being could offer.
Then suddenly, the boy shrugged. Quick an frim.
A shrug, she never saw one did it before—not in front of her
"Oh…" The women rose one of her eyebrows "…it seems like my son is starting to like her"
Acceptance—her shoulder slumped beneath the words. Out of all the answers that could be conveyed by a shrug, the woman picked that particular one.
"That is good. You hear that Violet, he likes you"
She could only glance at her father words, stoning her expression. It was done—her betrothal, his tiny laugh cemented that. His face was brimming, contrast with the pale white interior of the manor, with purple sofa circling and oak table with three half melted candles. Yes—her soon-to-be manor.
She needed to get used to it, right here and now
"By the way, this might come out rude but… we haven't seen the man of the house. Where may he be?"
"Marquess?"
The voice of a man snapped her head, trailing into the source. Beside the sofa, stood a man clad in tuxedo, with a familiar mask veiling the face. Hidden. A smile carved into the cover—teasing her memory. She was sure she'd met him before…
But where?
A random thought, one where she tried her best to remember—every curve, the wavering paint, the man was standing here, and he must be important.
Until she heard his boots clacked against the floor. Light—with one-two rhythm. A faint sound of song suddenly entered her ears, with distant crowds chattering around it. The sound. Now, a blur of setting started to appear in her mind. The bright light, a stage with people dancing around…
An Opera—her eyes sharpened, glancing slowy at the mask
The man—he was there, on her first opera. She stood in the balcony back then, his father arms clenching her hip tight. Same black tuxedo, same black trousers, with smooth-angle voice tickling inside her ear canal.
Was the man… A Claremont, perhaps?
"Pardon me, Viscount Claremont. I was too focused on the false—and missed the good"
"Ohoho… worry not, me Lord. Humans…" The viscount tilted his head "…right?"
The question hung—one she knew was not meant to be answered.
"With that out of the way…"
PLAK
The Viscount clapped
"…Why don't we go inside for a tea? Father to father…"
He tilted his head; again—this time, it was for her and Altaris
"…and children to children"
"What a beautiful idea…" Instead her father, the viscountess was the one who spoke "…can you do it, Altaris?"
"As you wish, mother"
Altaris nodded. Precise. Gone was the shrug earlier. She watched in silence when both her parents and the Viscount passed through the door, leaving her with the boy. She threw a quick look at Altaris, landing right between his two eyes. Sharp. Like a well—filled with darkness and blood.
What did both his parents just throw at her?
Luckly for her, Altaris opened his mouth first
"Uhmmm… I guess… we are alone now. Should we…introduce ourself?"
Suspicion. She bowed slightly, keeping her gaze locked at him. The entire meeting was a new world for her—not a single knowledge had helped her. The manner of speech, the order of talking—all was alien.
And now, the boy in front of her suddenly talked like a commoner
Was it another trick? Did they teach the boy to pretend—just like in opera?
"Alright…" he continued "my name was Altaris, from house Claremont. And you…my lady?"
"Violet, from house Vernicus"
"Nice to meet you… Violet"
The boy smirked, extending his hand to her. Again, an alien gesture. She was a marquess, Altaris was supposed to bow, that's how she was taught...or, atleast cupped her hand, just like another nobles.
But no, a hand shake.
She furrowed her eyebrows.
"Oh… pardon me. Shall we go, my lady"
"Hmm!"
Before she could answer, something tugged her hand, dragging her forward. The dark corridor stretched tall as she entered, wind grazing her cheeks with every step. Fast. She felt his hand clasped around hers, grabbing it tight—as tough a single slip might make him lose her. But no, she bit her mouth in hurt, manor this small would not make her lost, no with this much maid watching both of them like a spectacle.
Alas, she followed him anyway—to whoever he wished.
She could at least do this much, and maybe…