Cutting Frills

Her Smile

Elizabeth danced merrily through the evening ball, blue gown swirling and eyes alit in merriment. She cooed praises to every lovely Lady and batted her eyelashes at the dashing noblemen. This was her home, her niche, her talent. Except for her hidden sword fighting skills, she had always excelled at social gatherings the most. It was a place were her honed senses thrived, calculating every girlish laugh, every graceful spin and dip. Her brain, taught through years of fighting, swifly slipped from plan to plan, action to action. Even her emotions were calculated, for she knew she had always been an open book, so she needed to make sure she felt every clinical thought.

She couldn't help but think to before this, to a time when balls were just that, simple happy gatherings. But after that fire she had taken a pledge to protect her husband, and although many of her days were filled with darkness from him trying to keep her in the light, she never forgot that.

Her eyes drifted over to the form of the Earl of Phantomhive, she squinted (winked it seemed to outsiders) trying to properly read his lips to find out what was going on. It came in snatches.

"...target......this room....annihilated...........Queens orders."

She mainly wore her low heels as a matter of old symbolisim, but she was glad she wore them for an entirely different reason tonight.

The case started last Tuesday, from what she gathered from her husbands manuscripts, now it was nearing on Sunday. It had been almost a week and she could tell Ciel could feel the pressure mounting. With barely any leads until yesterday, they needed to rid the criminal tonight. She felt guilty for snooping, but her husband always left her out of such things and his attitude was worrisome. She feared for his safety, for from what she has gathered from Sebastian's hidden looks, she feels her husband might be strangled relatively soon.  

Besides, what kind of wife would she be if she couldn't help her husband out on such a troublesome matter.

So she smiled and twirled, searching and searching for what could be that the Watchdog was looking for. She finally stopped, focusing her mind on the cute dresses so she smiled sweetly before trying once again to find an opportunity. 

She need not try long for it was presented for her when a dashing man in purple asked her to dance. From her husbands stiffened posture and his irritated glare, (that she was sure wasn't aimed at her) her suspicions were proved right.

This was the man she needed to kill.

The name of Countess had burdened her for four years now, bestowed upon her at the ripe age of eighteen. She grew bitter at times. The loneliness of a world of light being forced upon her created resent. She blamed society for the position they placed women in. She blamed the butler who's eyes softened whenever the Earl did something adorable. She blamed her parents for placing her with a husband who obviously could not love her. She blamed Ciel for not being able to.

But mostly she blamed herself for going through with it.

But it is at this time she then remembers he had to achieve this at 13, after horrors she would never experience. Even though living in the light burned her, she could only imagine the choking darkness he had to thrive in. Could she really blame him when he treated her so well? Could she blame him for protecting her? She had laughed and shined for his happiness, not her own, and each rare smile she received was testament to that.

Even if they were not all caused by her, but she had always been a generous person by nature.

She slipped her gaze over her target once again, offering a shy smile and asking him if he wanted to step outside. With how well the conversation (that she hadn't been listening to) had been going, he would of course agree. Elizabeth smiled with how well everything was falling into place.