The ball was extravagant. Full of light and music and color. The dancers whirled together on the floor, the ladies like butterflies, the gentleman just as bright. Silks, satins, laces, fabrics of all kinds, the latest styles from Paris, the most expensive chefs catering the most exotic foods... If money could buy it, it was here. It really was a fine display of high society. An example of the cutting edge of human decadence.
Cyril was enjoying it. Lapping up the adoration of his peers, the simpering and the fawning and the bored gossip of the elite. Road, as the lady of the hour--every hour, every day, in this household--was flitting from here to there, demanding attention, dances, pampering... She was indulged because who wouldn't indulge her?
Tyki bowed to his partner, a fine, eligible, pretty young thing. Couldn't be more than seventeen, and already on the marriage market. Her mother had been watching them dance with that hungry, calculated look. The girl blushed when Tyki kissed her hand and then excused himself, watching in a mirror as the girl's mother bore down on her--probably full of questions and insistence on how to win a man's heart, or at least his hand. He helped himself to a glass of wine as he stole away to the veranda, slipping out of sight behind the curtains before making good on his getaway to the outdoors.
It was a relief to enter the cool night air. The ballroom had been hot and noisy and crowded. Exhausting, to keep up the polite face in front of so many insignificant strangers. He didn't see why Cyril always insisted he come to these--it wasn't that they couldn't be enjoyable. But they were tiring. The constant pretense. He set his glass on the rail and got out a cigarette and matches, lighting one, indulging in the sweet fix of nicotine. Cheap brand. Satisfying. Below him he heard a soft gasp, a giggle, hushed voices. He smirked.
Ah young lust. Or perhaps not so young. He couldn't see who in the dark, and he didn't recognize the voices. But in the end the elite were no different than the commoners. No more pure or virtuous. Just more money to waste on more expensive vices. But when you got down to it, the base needs were the same for every caste. He smoked, listening to the breathy gasps somewhere nearby. Who was he to begrudge a couple a moment of stolen passion? Probably some married lord and lady--not married to each other of course. Heaven forbid any married couple find each other attractive.
That was the problem with humans. Always greedy. Never satisfied with what they had. Ever interested in what they didn't have a right to. He almost laughed. That was him, after all. Always wanting more. Never satisfied with just a little. But, he was human. He was more human, perhaps, than normal humans. He personified humanity. It was a bit of arrogance there, better than humans, greedier than humans, a reflection of human vices made real. But he was nothing if not an arrogant, self-indulgent creature. He loved what he was, the two parts of himself that could never really reconcile. He felt indulgent, listening to the love-making below. A little secret between him and humanity--we're all of us sinners, you poor fools. But the joke was on all of them, him included. At least he knew the coming punchline. The poor idiots in the bushes... Why interrupt their fun?
Because it would be cruel. And while a part of him so adored cruelty, why indulge it? He was tired and cooling down from the hot ball room and the nicotine was good. Let them fuck, they could all be dead by tomorrow.
"Tyki, there you are!" That was Cyril. Tyki listened, heard the surprised, dismayed gasp, couldn't keep the wide, amused grin off his face. "I've been looking all over for you! There are many young ladies who need your attention."
"Yes yes. You're quite a slave driver." Tyki kept his face diverted from his brother, raising a hand to fiddle with the cigarette, hide his attempts not to laugh. "I'll be back in soon. Just needed some air."
"Tut." Cyril sounded disapproving. "You're neglecting the guests. Wouldn't it be marvelous if you fell in love with one of those young ladies?"
"Oh but I'd want someone faithful. A rare commodity, these days." Tyki spoke at the garden in general.
"Tyki! Heavens, I'm sure you didn't just imply something so scandalous about any of our guests."
"Who me? I make a habit of never implying anything. Implications can get a man in trouble you know."
"Tyki."
"All right, I'll be in when I finish my cigarette."
"Splendid. I will come find you if you're not, you know." And Cyril was off, flouncing back into the world of light and music and gaiety and falsehood, leaving Tyki in the dark, in a rather deeper silence than he'd been in before.
"I suppose all humans are just poor sinners." He commented to the darkness, dropping his cigarette and crushing it beneath his heel. "But isn't life more fun that way?" He grinned at the continued, dogged silence, and turned back into the ball room.
Perhaps it was just a bit more fun to indulge in cruelty after all.