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 Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2012 5:43 pm
He held his breath, waiting, but a part of him knew that he had her the moment she failed to move away. Andrus understood that he might be asking a lot of her, that he was inviting her into a world that was utterly foreign, but that in itself was half the fun. It was a leap of faith that she needed to take, now that she was here, and a big one at that, but Andrus was there too. He could guide her across to safety, if she chose to let him.
Then she laid her hand almost gingerly in his, and the look of mischief spread to his smile as he lifted it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against her fingers, welcoming her into the sideways world into which she had come. In one fluid motion he straightened up and pulled her close, his left hand clasping her right and his right supporting her back to keep the two of them close. He could hear her breathing, see every freckle scattered across the bridge of her nose, even lose himself in her dark and bottomless eyes. Instead, he said softly in her ear, "Whatever you do, don't panic."
And after that, they were off. He stepped forward with his left foot, guiding her gently backwards, and then the second, and the third step, until they were waltzing across the room and the room was no longer just a closed drawing room, but a ballroom festooned with gilded lights and festive ribbons. There was no music, but Andrus did his best to hum some familiar overture, and before long that, too melted into the dramatic beats of a lively chamber quartet. He might have been in a newly tailored black suit with coattails dancing and she in a dazzling silver gown, frilled or richly embroidered with flowers and patterns, waltzing the night away under bright lights and lofted ceilings.
"You see, anyone can dance, Chloe. It is not merely the sport of nobles," he murmured, watching her face for a reaction. He worried that it might have been a mistake to speak, that it might ruin the magic of the moment, and he so desperately wished to hold onto it, for her as much as for himself. He wanted, in that instant, to make her imagination soar, to let her get caught up in the ecstasy of the moment, the height of the orchestral swell, that moment when music pounded in the ears and nothing existed save each other and her hand in his and his palm against her back, holding her close.
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Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2012 8:56 pm
Chloe was simply watching the progress of the noble's face as he moved, and to her he was still 'a noble', rather than Andrus Kinross. If he was aware of her heart beat, she was doubly so; the organ pounded against her chest fit to burst. It felt like she might have run a mile or seen a ghost, and might have worried her were it not for the ecstatic fluttering beneath it. She was experiencing nerves, but it was a very odd kind. It felt so nice... too nice, perhaps? Her even breathing turned to a pattern that was nearly panting, shallow and uneven, and immediately she felt her cheeks and ears go hot. The fair, mottled complexion was suddenly struck with deep red, and as Andrus' lips met her knuckles a delicate hand fluttered to Chloe's own. She was entirely overwhelmed. The whisper stirred
She was panicking.
Everything in the poor girl's mind screamed that she needed to run and run fast. Modesty and standards shrieked at the back of her mind while her dreamer's heart pounded for it. As she was pulled to him, touching and being touched by a man in ways she had never even considered, her eyes fell closed and her breath left her in a sudden, impassioned huff as her head turned slightly to the side and down.
The first few movements were rather awkward for Chloe, having never been schooled in proper dance. It was simple, though, when led by such strong arms and such a warm, solid form. Her breath still paces ahead of her, the smooth movements began to come. As they waltzed she felt her body swaying, drawn by the arm around her and pinned at the points of contact. As grace came, her imagination was drawn out again. The music was not hummed by her partner but played by an elaborate quartet dressed to the nines. She wore a laced golden gown herself, flowers pinned up in her well-tamed hair. Andrus' coattails swept out behind them, curling as they turned amidst the large crowd and seeing no one. There was only them, only this passion and heat, this grace and nobility. Her eyebrow knitted closer together as they passed a doorway, giving her a view of the elaborately carved and gilded walls and cathedral ceiling in this mysterious hall. Her lips were already parted with emotion and she sighed. There were strange urges all around, and her grip on Andrus' hand tightened as they swayed about the room.
Opening her eyes did her in. She just wanted to gaze into her partner's eyes, to see the stormy grays and the look of admiration. Her chest seized in panic as reality dawned again. She was but a maid, her partner a noble with entirely veiled intentions. Her gaze was worried as she peered up at him, but counter to the stiffness in her torso she did not stop the dance.
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Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2012 9:27 pm
They were one, moving together as Chloe found her rhythm, claiming the room as their personal dance floor and owning it, blind and deaf to the world as the music soared and with it their steps, almost like flight as they waltzed to the music in their minds.
And he was happy just to look at her, to see the blush color her face a rosy pink, and see the sigh coming from her mouth even before he heard it. There was no need to watch where he was going; the room would remain a room, and Andrus could navigate that with his eyes shut. That, though, was the last thing they would be. Her eyes opened, and he was more than happy to hold her worried gaze and return it with his own look of overwhelming confidence. He knew what he was doing; she could trust him. He wasn't about to let her go and watch her struggle to right herself, either literally or figuratively.
Her anxiety tightened her body, and Andrus could feel it through the hand on her back, a sudden stiffness that told him they were teetering on a precipice of sorts. The moment could end at any moment when reality came crashing back on them.
He took her once more around the room, waltzing to a fading tune, before guiding her to a stop. They stood in the middle of the room, under the opulent chandelier that glittered in the light leaking in through the curtained windows, him still holding her as if reluctant to let go. His face was still mere inches from hers, tilted down to hold her gaze, breathing, seeing the curve of her lips and the point of her nose. He could whisk her away on a dance again, if she but let him. But he wasn't sure she would.
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Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2012 10:01 pm
The end to the dance was both appreciated and deeply disappointing. In the pit of her chest, Chloe wanted to continue. There was such a deep draw to live in fantasy, especially one as pleasant as that which she was experiencing. Why would anyone choose to leave a ball, a romance, to scrub the floor? Her breath was evening out and she removed herself from Andrus as they met the end of their dance. Fantasy was one thing, but they always had to return to grim reality. The worried gaze went deeper a moment and Chloe turned away, peering off at the floor. All of a sudden she felt as if she might cry. For a moment her eyes closed, and then she escaped. Rather than climb up on the chair again and thus remain in the same room as Andrus, she grabbed her dust rag offered a curtsy, and left the room at a brisk pace without a moment more of eye contact.
They were different. Andrus, for example, was allowed to whisk maids away and dance in empty rooms while it was not at all acceptable for Chloe to approach him in any fashion, even if prompted. The whole ordeal had been terribly inappropriate. They were too different. In time perhaps she could forget and accept it for a flight of fancy, and one she wasn't likely to forget or truly regret, but at the moment she was tearing up and fleeing for the basement, picking up speed as she went. Things like this weren't meant to happen. It was unfair. Upon reaching the cellar she thrust her fists against the wall and then rested her forehead against the cool stone. She punched the wall once more and cried softly, her free hand clutching at her bodice.
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Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2012 10:31 pm
As he watched her flee, he considered calling for her. He even considered following after her, but something told him he might simply add to her emotions by pursuing her, and he remained in the center of the room and waited as reality slowly dawned on him again.
It had been a good dance, even a spectacular one for what it was, but perhaps, in hindsight, that was a threshold that ought not have been crossed. He had forgotten she was not any of the women he had grown up knowing, forgotten that she was used to very different boundaries, forgotten, in his haste, their differences. Or perhaps he had willed himself to forget all that and tried to fool himself into thinking he was right when that was anything but true. Perhaps he had hoped for too much.
He would have stood there and pondered the matter further, but by then, the soft calls of another of the Countess' servants had began to come echoing through to the drawing room. "M'lord?" He could hear her on the other side of the door. "M'lord?"
He might have sighed, but instead he crossed the room and pulled open the heavy set of double doors leading back into the ballroom. "Yes, I'm here," he said, suppressing the weariness from his voice upon seeing the young girl and behind her the Countess. "I was simply admiring the figurines." Then he stepped through the doors and into the ballroom and back into the world from which he had come.
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