Write All Night (Spoiler_Song New Year Fic): One And Only
One And Only
“You’re not dancing.”
Her face was hidden behind an ornate Venetian gold masquerade mask that peaked in the style of a tiara above her forehead with intricate gold and sky blue glitter crystal swirls around the edges of the eyes and down the sides of the bridge of the nose. Paper thin laser cut gold extended from the sides of the mask, flowing in swirls and curling up and inwards towards the young woman’s face like feathers, and dotted with miniature gleaming diamonds.
Like her captivating mask, her Tudor-style dress was equally as marveling: TARDIS blue velvet with a V-shaped waistline edged in gold, elegantly pointed cuffs, a sheer layer of silk down the skirt with golden floral stitching, and a matching blue and gold necklace to fill the bare skin of her rectangular neckline. The sparkles of her Myriad Chanel Glossimer lip gloss hit the ballroom light as she defiantly replied, “You’re not masquerading.”
“I’m not much for masks.”
“I’m not much for dancing.”
“Then why, my dear, are you at a masquerade ball?”
“Why are you?”
“Touché.” He tapped his cane against the polished dance floor, briefly catching his tired, wrinkled reflection. His old eyes flicked to the dancers and he lifted his cane, pointing to where a young brunette with a burgundy mask made of feathers was dancing with a young man, who wore a simple black mask lined in silver trim. “My granddaughter,” he explained. “It’s her birthday; I wanted to take her some place she could celebrate.”
“Oh.” The edge in the mystery girl’s voice had dulled.
“And you?”
“I…I was supposed to meet someone here,” she sighed.
“What a shame.”
“It’s not that he didn’t not come on purpose!” she suddenly said, her eyes wide - and a bit glassy - from the almond shaped cat eye slits in the mask. “He’s very busy…traveling all the time,” she nodded sternly. “I - I shouldn’t have expected him to arrive.” She pursed her glittering red lips together as if sucking on a particularly bitter lemon. “Who wants to be at a dance with a silly sixteen-year-old girl when they could be traveling everywhere.”
The old man smiled slyly. “I’m a bit of a traveler myself,” he remarked.
The girl tilted her head back, taking him in. “You look familiar,” she remarked.
“I get that quite often.”
With a squint, she chuckled. “I know! The Earth film, The Wizard of Oz. It was my mother’s favorite movie. You,” she grinned, “you remind me of The Wizard.”
“Close to that,” he nodded humbly. As the song changed, he suddenly propped his cane against the wall and extended his hand. “I know you’re waiting for a friend, Miss, but in the meantime, would you be opposed to sharing one dance with an old man?”
The girl smiled for the first time and placed her delicate hand, lacquered with midnight colored nails, into his much larger and wrinkled palm. “I’ll acquiesce. It does appear we’re the only ones here not adhering to title rules.”
“I’ve never been one for rules,” the old man admitted as they adjusted their hands around each other, with his left hand clasped with her right and his right resting delicately on her waist, while she used her left hand to curve around his back, as she was not tall enough to slip it over his shoulder.
“Me either,” she laughed. “My mother tells me I’m so contrary I might as well live backwards.”
“There’s nothing wrong in non-linearity.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Smart girl.”
“Wise boy.”
“Wise boy?” he echoed in surprise.
“But of course! If I am a girl, then you are a boy. Do you not consider yourself a boy?”
“Well-”
“I do not consider myself a girl.”
“Wise woman, then!”
“Ah!” she smiled. “Smart man.”
“You’re a remarkable dancer,” he commented a few minutes into the song. “I’ve danced a lot in my day and I must say, it’s lovely to share the floor with such a fluid young woman.”
“I’ve had good teachers.”
“Give them my regards.”
“I shall.”
As the song exhaled to a gentle close, he released her hands and spied a young boy - about her age - approach from behind.
“Sir.” He smiled, with a tip of his cap. “May I cut in?”
The girl - young woman - curtsied. “It’s been a pleasure. Thank you.”
The old man brushed his brow with the back of his hand as he watched the boy take her by the hand and lead her into the crowd.
“Grandfather?”
“Susan. Ah, dear, are you enjoying yourself?”
Susan fingered the feathers on the edge of her mask. “Yes, of course.” She squinted suspiciously. “Who was that? You were dancing with someone, she looked…”
“Remarkable. She’s a remarkable young lady. Strong and fluid as a river. I suspect she’ll do great things one day.”