-Masquerade-

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
3 part story about a romance bloosoming at a ball taking place in the late 16th century.

Submitted: November 13, 2008

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Submitted: November 13, 2008

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Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.
Henry Van Dyke

She stood out of the way, her eyes showing her feeling while her face could not portray what she was feeling for it was hidden behind a Barroque mask. The mask was delicatly designed to show a picture of the sun towards the middle of the eyes and above them by just a hair. The mask was a blue gray while the edges were coated in a golden finish that made the dull gray shine out, just as the golden sun on the mask did.
Her dress, handmade by one of the best designers of the era, was an elegant blue with a tight collar right to the neck. What was differand about the dress compaired to many the ladies are the time wore, was that the sleaves were tight until they reached the very end and there was a triangle shaped right below the egde of the neck. Her lovely blue dress spread out at the bottom, like many of the time.
Her dark brown hair was set in ringlets around her heart-shaped face. Her delicate nose was too small for her already small face and her blue eyes matched the dark intensity of her dress.
As she walked through the halls of the ball she caught the eyes of every man in the room and the jealousy of every woman. She stood off to the side, alloting every man who asked only one dance but none of them had caught her fancey.
"May I have this dance?" a voice behind her asked she faught the urge to stay facing the way she was and she turned and face the direction of the voice. Before her stood the most handsome masked man she had ever had the pleasure of laying her eyes on. His dark green eyes stood out against his seemingly dark skin. Only his hair seemed to be misplaced. It was a light blond, not unlike most she had seem amoung the many admirers that night. He was tall, a bit taller than her five foot frame. She nodded her head and lightly grasped his outstreched hand. He closed his hand around her's and lead her to the dance floor. As they began to dance they remained quiet until the song was almost over when he spoke. "I know what you are," he said, his face coming close to hers, closer than a proper gentalman's was supposed to.
"Whatever are you talking about," she said eyeing him up, pretending she gad no knowledge of what he was talking about.
"M'lady, you're a siren and there's no denying it."
"Follow me," she said leading him roughly off the dance floor. She lead him outside to the front gates and signaled the guards to depart.
"So now, tell me what you think you know."


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