So much feigned happiness the repression nauseates me I could seduce you all right here and spill your blood down your expensive pretty dresses.
He glances at Fergus. No discussion required. He takes his pick and the arrangement is in place. For some reason tonight It fatigues him. But his face never betrays him.
It has become too easy.
The politely smiling, the head bowing, the hand offering, the rising and falling,
Immortality is a con. This feels a lot like hell.
He hates the announcements. The game. And for the first time is surprised to realise he feels guilt. Not for his intentions, no. That is honesty. To who he is. But the rest, is a sham. And this will remain hidden like everything else. He shuts it down like a trap door.
Ready for you to fall down into later.
“Harry old boy, come and meet Mercy!”
An inward sigh.
The temptation to tease is too great tonight.
It has become too easy.
It is a good job his silk cravat is tied high and slightly too tight, or he may have tilted his head to the side to make her blush some more.
“Mercy. I have heard SO much about you from your father, It is a true honour to meet you and at such a prestigious occasion, your first ball. “
A bow. Pricking gritted teeth behind an easy fake smile waiting for the simpering. He hopes he doesn’t yawn.
“Likewise”
Something in the voice makes him look up. She’s strong. That’s new.
thanks Sami, I am thinking of removing it, it made sense to me in the wee small hours of the morning but now it doesn't, lol. I do want to do something more abstract than the regular narrative prose though.
well done >:) xX
