here we go. welcome to my funeral.
This made me cry. Like, really.
It's a good thing everyone else is asleep.
Maybe it's only sad to me because I know the whole backstory. I could spill everything about the characters' life stories.
& maybe then it'll be more comprehensible why the tears come.
But maybe it's clear enough...?
title: what to do with wings
note: That prologue with Duchess has led me to decide to rework the characters to fit my plot better! & this is an excerpt from a scene that'll probably come much further along in the story line. it's been in my head for weeks.
& I finally wrote it out.
It is the rough draft, so hopefully it'll be much more... tearful after a lot of editting...?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She did not dance with people.
To be specific, she did not want to dance with him in particular. Simone did not care if he liked her in this shade of brutal blood red or that Rush liked it because it made her delicate skin glow. She most certainly did not care that he liked the way the hair at the nape of her neck curled, making her neck look even longer and swan-like. She did not care even more that he liked the way their bodies fit together like a ring fit on a ring finger.
She seemed to, at once, wilt and stand taller at the thought.
"What are you doing?" Simone hissed at him through smiling lips that trembled much more than she wanted them to even as they went through the practiced steps of a waltz.
"I think that should be perfectly obvious." Dear God, how she despised how his deep baritone voice could make her insides shake and melt like ice in spring. Why must she be the one cursed with the sensitivity to him?
"You know what I mean. Stop dodging the question. We both know that I know that you know that doing this is so suspicious I won't be able to go on even a walk through the gardens for the next month."
Silence was his answer as the string quartet swiftly played. "Why should this seem strange? All brothers dance with their brother's fiancee." Even his smile could disarm her. Pretty teeth, perfect lips, and dark eyes that threatened to pull her in. Eyes, she had always thought, made the smile. Eyes told the truth-if the smile is genuine or a fake promise. Rush had always had this way of leaving the smile open-ended, making her wonder what was really running through his min
"You seem to have a missed a step coming down here this evening. I'm not just a man's fiancee and you aren't just any brother." She ignored how wrong the whole arrangement seemed.
"I assure you I am perfectly fine." His hair tickled her ear as he leaned in, black mixing with a dark auburn as his lips tickled sensitive skin. The young woman couldn't help but shiver.
"Do you really think that my brother will jump out of his seat to 'defend your honor'? After all, he seems to think he has won all of you. Including your heart."
"Well, we are not exactly like star-crossed lovers of lore," Simone informed him, a glare in her eyes. "Your father especially will be extremely displeased. So we should stop now. And who says I don't love him?"
Trying to tug her hand out of his while removing his hand from her waist was impossible. The tuxedo did not reveal the muscles she had saw him build from practicing swordplay, but they were there as plain as the full moon outside. "Do you really want to dishonor us both by walking out of the dance in the middle?"
"Do you enjoy my misery?" she asked instead under her breath.
"If I did, would I be talking with you at all?" Simone had always hated his habit of answering questions with more questions-questions she did not understand. They made her think about things that made her cringe or feel incapable or just wonder- how much does Rush know that he keeps hidden?
"What do you mean?"
"Do you really think you'll be happy with Wesley?" The blunt question cut her underneath a facade of empty smiles and painted lips.
"Your Highness, what do you offer me that he does not?" Her eyes searched blank eyes.
He didn't hesitate for a second. "Love."
She couldn't help it; a gasp escaped and her eyes widened. They tightened their grasps on each other. Earlier she couldn't let him go soon enough; then she couldn't hold on long enough.
Rush was offering himself to her-everything of something he had hid behind masks: one of a brilliant rogue and the other of a cold-hearted prince. Things that no one else had seen or would ever see. Even she-one of the people closest to him-hadn't seen everything he had to offer.
She had seen the way he had watched the sentencing of the poor that had stolen merely an apple off one of the king's trees, a frozen expression of nothing. She had seen him lead a maid by the hand to his bedchamber, the girl's face caught between attraction to his high cheekbones and fear at eyes like burning coals that catch people like dreamcatchers and never let go. Simone had witnessed the way he ignored Wesley for the most part, casting a shadow that was impossible to overcome. It wasn't that Wesley wasn't brilliant-because he was a genius in his own right-but compared to Rush, he was but a bug under his foot.
But Simone had also seen the Rush that went through the woods right after his father's trappers had laid out their traps and let go all of the trapped foxes. She had seen a Rush that had sneaked the last sausage to Wesley when he had been grounded for skipping his tutor's classes. She had experienced a Rush that had kissed her under the moonlight, swaying after a difficult day of stitchery and sneaking out to practice sparring together where disapproving eyes couldn't cast darkness upon their happiness.
She knew there was something more than even that. It was just out of reach and he was offering it.
But her eyes sparked under the recollection of the truth. Truth ruled the world regardless of kings or husbands or guillotines. It led the blind and those who could see. Nothing could possibly change what is.
"Unfortunately," Simone whispered under the furious effect of bows crossing strings, "love can't buy life or freedom."
A part of her knew that somethings are part of a bigger picture. That part was the one that believed in wishing on shooting stars and thought that True Love was unstoppable.
But pragmatism crushed it under the weight of it and reality.
Wrenching her hand away under the cover of the dying notes of the piece, she stumbled away over to the head table before she could be swept away with the rest of the dancers. A smile was barely fixed on her face as she assured her betrothed that she was perfectly okay. He laid a kiss on her brow before leading her out of the banquet hall.
Only then did she look back.
Rush was the only one on the dance floor, watching her.
TBC
It's a good thing everyone else is asleep.
Maybe it's only sad to me because I know the whole backstory. I could spill everything about the characters' life stories.
& maybe then it'll be more comprehensible why the tears come.
But maybe it's clear enough...?
title: what to do with wings
note: That prologue with Duchess has led me to decide to rework the characters to fit my plot better! & this is an excerpt from a scene that'll probably come much further along in the story line. it's been in my head for weeks.
& I finally wrote it out.
It is the rough draft, so hopefully it'll be much more... tearful after a lot of editting...?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She did not dance with people.
To be specific, she did not want to dance with him in particular. Simone did not care if he liked her in this shade of brutal blood red or that Rush liked it because it made her delicate skin glow. She most certainly did not care that he liked the way the hair at the nape of her neck curled, making her neck look even longer and swan-like. She did not care even more that he liked the way their bodies fit together like a ring fit on a ring finger.
She seemed to, at once, wilt and stand taller at the thought.
"What are you doing?" Simone hissed at him through smiling lips that trembled much more than she wanted them to even as they went through the practiced steps of a waltz.
"I think that should be perfectly obvious." Dear God, how she despised how his deep baritone voice could make her insides shake and melt like ice in spring. Why must she be the one cursed with the sensitivity to him?
"You know what I mean. Stop dodging the question. We both know that I know that you know that doing this is so suspicious I won't be able to go on even a walk through the gardens for the next month."
Silence was his answer as the string quartet swiftly played. "Why should this seem strange? All brothers dance with their brother's fiancee." Even his smile could disarm her. Pretty teeth, perfect lips, and dark eyes that threatened to pull her in. Eyes, she had always thought, made the smile. Eyes told the truth-if the smile is genuine or a fake promise. Rush had always had this way of leaving the smile open-ended, making her wonder what was really running through his min
"You seem to have a missed a step coming down here this evening. I'm not just a man's fiancee and you aren't just any brother." She ignored how wrong the whole arrangement seemed.
"I assure you I am perfectly fine." His hair tickled her ear as he leaned in, black mixing with a dark auburn as his lips tickled sensitive skin. The young woman couldn't help but shiver.
"Do you really think that my brother will jump out of his seat to 'defend your honor'? After all, he seems to think he has won all of you. Including your heart."
"Well, we are not exactly like star-crossed lovers of lore," Simone informed him, a glare in her eyes. "Your father especially will be extremely displeased. So we should stop now. And who says I don't love him?"
Trying to tug her hand out of his while removing his hand from her waist was impossible. The tuxedo did not reveal the muscles she had saw him build from practicing swordplay, but they were there as plain as the full moon outside. "Do you really want to dishonor us both by walking out of the dance in the middle?"
"Do you enjoy my misery?" she asked instead under her breath.
"If I did, would I be talking with you at all?" Simone had always hated his habit of answering questions with more questions-questions she did not understand. They made her think about things that made her cringe or feel incapable or just wonder- how much does Rush know that he keeps hidden?
"What do you mean?"
"Do you really think you'll be happy with Wesley?" The blunt question cut her underneath a facade of empty smiles and painted lips.
"Your Highness, what do you offer me that he does not?" Her eyes searched blank eyes.
He didn't hesitate for a second. "Love."
She couldn't help it; a gasp escaped and her eyes widened. They tightened their grasps on each other. Earlier she couldn't let him go soon enough; then she couldn't hold on long enough.
Rush was offering himself to her-everything of something he had hid behind masks: one of a brilliant rogue and the other of a cold-hearted prince. Things that no one else had seen or would ever see. Even she-one of the people closest to him-hadn't seen everything he had to offer.
She had seen the way he had watched the sentencing of the poor that had stolen merely an apple off one of the king's trees, a frozen expression of nothing. She had seen him lead a maid by the hand to his bedchamber, the girl's face caught between attraction to his high cheekbones and fear at eyes like burning coals that catch people like dreamcatchers and never let go. Simone had witnessed the way he ignored Wesley for the most part, casting a shadow that was impossible to overcome. It wasn't that Wesley wasn't brilliant-because he was a genius in his own right-but compared to Rush, he was but a bug under his foot.
But Simone had also seen the Rush that went through the woods right after his father's trappers had laid out their traps and let go all of the trapped foxes. She had seen a Rush that had sneaked the last sausage to Wesley when he had been grounded for skipping his tutor's classes. She had experienced a Rush that had kissed her under the moonlight, swaying after a difficult day of stitchery and sneaking out to practice sparring together where disapproving eyes couldn't cast darkness upon their happiness.
She knew there was something more than even that. It was just out of reach and he was offering it.
But her eyes sparked under the recollection of the truth. Truth ruled the world regardless of kings or husbands or guillotines. It led the blind and those who could see. Nothing could possibly change what is.
"Unfortunately," Simone whispered under the furious effect of bows crossing strings, "love can't buy life or freedom."
A part of her knew that somethings are part of a bigger picture. That part was the one that believed in wishing on shooting stars and thought that True Love was unstoppable.
But pragmatism crushed it under the weight of it and reality.
Wrenching her hand away under the cover of the dying notes of the piece, she stumbled away over to the head table before she could be swept away with the rest of the dancers. A smile was barely fixed on her face as she assured her betrothed that she was perfectly okay. He laid a kiss on her brow before leading her out of the banquet hall.
Only then did she look back.
Rush was the only one on the dance floor, watching her.
TBC