Rk900 One-Shots

masquerade

A freshly manicured hand took a flute of champagne from a short server wearing an intricately designed mask and holding a tray with two flutes left. The woman thanked the server as they parted ways, both going opposite directions. She had to guess that the bubbly liquid was one of the only good things that came from those parties. Definitely not the people. Always too snobby, too self-centered, too much. Especially with their elaborate gowns and expensive earrings that seemed to glow in the dark.

She was a slight exception, only wearing a dainty necklace that was gifted by a friend, along with some thin, silver rings. The dress she was wearing had not been her choice. A mix between her mother and the seamstress. It was tight against her waist and cinched at her sides. However, the jade color complimented her skin tone. Her back was bare as the satin-like fabric plunged to the bottom of her spine, her chest semi-exposed with a defined cleavage.

There was no way she was wearing this again, much less to an event like this.

The dress flared at the waist a small bit, falling like a waterfall down past her ankles. If she didn't have high heels on, she would've been on the floor the first step she took. No elaborate or intricate designs, she was, at least, spared that much. When ever she even thought about moving, the dress seemed to get caught at her heels.

The location of the party was at a family friend's mansion. They weren't her friend, just her parents'. It did have a nice ballroom though. Better than most. The cream-colored curtains along the wall were tied in the middle into a bow. The white walls were decorated with old painted portraits of royals and the rich. Lights hung from the ceiling, the room being exceptionally lit up. No corner was dim.

The woman strode confidently out of the dancing crowd, having to pick up the lower fabric of her dress in order to not trip and spill the half empty glass. There were many people off the dance area, only to chat or eat. She sat down at her table, picking at the plate of dessert she had grabbed earlier. She had never been inside the party building for this long. Usually sneaking off to the garden or stable, if they had one. It was boring her and she was about to make a getaway.

The lace mask—it was a masquerade ball, after all—placed on her face by flimsy elastic was becoming itchy. So much for good quality. Everyone else had nice looking ones, usually matching their suit or dress. Hers was black.

Another classical song came on from the live orchestra in one of the corners on a raised platform. The crowd continued their dancing, although, they changed to match the specifics. She couldn't have been bothered to really pay attention. Especially to the classes she had to take.

Having the view of the dance floor, she could see a tall man walk over in her direction. From what the plain mask shown, he was quite attractive. A black three-piece along with a white dress shirt hugged his figure perfectly, a silver watch peeked through his cuff. Without introduction of question, he sat down in the chair next to her. She decided she wasn't going to start conversation with this stranger; assuming he was going to act like he had all the money in the world.

"Why aren't you dancing?"

She seemed surprised when he spoke first, obviously thing he was going to be some pretentious prick with obscenely high standards, "Can't." Was her blunt answer. She took a slow sip from the flute.

He threw his head back, a smile on his face, "Did you not expect to dance, or for me to actually believe that?"

She was surprised he hadn't asked yet, not being able to keep a straight face, "A little bit of both. Although, it wasn't my idea to come. Had to take my mother's place."

"Ah, so she lucked out?"

"Something like that. Food's good, I guess." She shrugged, crossing a leg over the other.