Flavour of the Day (29/11)
Title: Moment in Blue and Gold
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Flavour of the Day (29/11/15) - nocturne. (1. Music. a piece appropriate to the night or evening. 2. Music. an instrumental composition of a dreamy or pensive character.)
Toppings/Extras: Butterscotch + Rainbow Sprinkles + Malt - Birthday prompt (How quickly the glamour fades - likelolwhat).
Rating: All ages
Word Count: 474
Notes: 1912; Hanne Beck, John Iveson.
Summary: It isn’t a night for fairy tales, it seems.
***
She was standing just outside the door; the light from the crowded ballroom spilling out behind her, emphasising the gold of her hair and the glinting lights in her dress against the darkness of the night. The dress itself was also dark, navy blue; not a colour that suited her, John Iveson thought as he emerged from the room within to join her. She didn’t notice him, as she leant on the stone balustrade, looking out into the night, unseeing.
“Miss Beck,” he said as gently as he could, but she still started violently at the interruption to her reverie, and swung around in alarm. She looked like nothing more than a guilty child, the elegance of her gown only serving to emphasise her youth, not disguise it, like a child dressed up in her mother’s clothes. As he’d suspected, she’d been crying, her face visibly tearstained.
“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright. You do remember me, don’t you? We met the other day - I’m John Iveson, Elizabeth’s husband.”
She nodded, trying belatedly to hide her face, looking down and away from him.
John gave her an encouraging smile and passed her the handkerchief from his top pocket. “Now, do you want to stay - or would you rather I found a cab to take you home? I can escort you, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”
“Thank you,” she said, seemingly still too embarrassed to meet his gaze as she took the handkerchief. “It’s not - you see, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry. It’s none of my business, is it? Dry your eyes, put on a show for the room and let’s get you home again, shall we? Elizabeth will be sorry to have missed you but she was needed at home. I, unfortunately, couldn’t get out of this particular engagement, but here’s a chance to be useful after all, it seems. Are you ready?” Even if he had met her other than the once at dinner last week, he wouldn’t have asked any more: where Harold Graves was tonight, for instance, or if the engagement was broken already. Best not to know, he thought, although he doubted much had happened: she was still such a child, or she seemed so to him.
Hanne Beck nodded, straightening herself again, looking a little less absurdly youthful. “Please, don’t tell Elizabeth,” she said. “If she asked me what it was all about - it’s so silly. She’d tell me I was making up fairy tales in my head and believing in them again.”
“Well, that’s not such a terrible crime,” said John, and crooked his elbow for her to take. “Come along, then. As you say, there’s certainly nothing magical about this affair - I think it’s about time we took our leave of it.”
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Flavour of the Day (29/11/15) - nocturne. (1. Music. a piece appropriate to the night or evening. 2. Music. an instrumental composition of a dreamy or pensive character.)
Toppings/Extras: Butterscotch + Rainbow Sprinkles + Malt - Birthday prompt (How quickly the glamour fades - likelolwhat).
Rating: All ages
Word Count: 474
Notes: 1912; Hanne Beck, John Iveson.
Summary: It isn’t a night for fairy tales, it seems.
***
She was standing just outside the door; the light from the crowded ballroom spilling out behind her, emphasising the gold of her hair and the glinting lights in her dress against the darkness of the night. The dress itself was also dark, navy blue; not a colour that suited her, John Iveson thought as he emerged from the room within to join her. She didn’t notice him, as she leant on the stone balustrade, looking out into the night, unseeing.
“Miss Beck,” he said as gently as he could, but she still started violently at the interruption to her reverie, and swung around in alarm. She looked like nothing more than a guilty child, the elegance of her gown only serving to emphasise her youth, not disguise it, like a child dressed up in her mother’s clothes. As he’d suspected, she’d been crying, her face visibly tearstained.
“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright. You do remember me, don’t you? We met the other day - I’m John Iveson, Elizabeth’s husband.”
She nodded, trying belatedly to hide her face, looking down and away from him.
John gave her an encouraging smile and passed her the handkerchief from his top pocket. “Now, do you want to stay - or would you rather I found a cab to take you home? I can escort you, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”
“Thank you,” she said, seemingly still too embarrassed to meet his gaze as she took the handkerchief. “It’s not - you see, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry. It’s none of my business, is it? Dry your eyes, put on a show for the room and let’s get you home again, shall we? Elizabeth will be sorry to have missed you but she was needed at home. I, unfortunately, couldn’t get out of this particular engagement, but here’s a chance to be useful after all, it seems. Are you ready?” Even if he had met her other than the once at dinner last week, he wouldn’t have asked any more: where Harold Graves was tonight, for instance, or if the engagement was broken already. Best not to know, he thought, although he doubted much had happened: she was still such a child, or she seemed so to him.
Hanne Beck nodded, straightening herself again, looking a little less absurdly youthful. “Please, don’t tell Elizabeth,” she said. “If she asked me what it was all about - it’s so silly. She’d tell me I was making up fairy tales in my head and believing in them again.”
“Well, that’s not such a terrible crime,” said John, and crooked his elbow for her to take. “Come along, then. As you say, there’s certainly nothing magical about this affair - I think it’s about time we took our leave of it.”
***