“Announcing Miss Séaryne Rouschelle,” a loud voice booms, echoing through the entire ballroom. The nobles attending the party all clap softly and politely, staring up at the young woman as she descends the staircase. She acknowledges them with a slight nod and a gentle smile. Her stance is rigid, as though she is uncomfortable being put on the spot. She makes it to the landing and melds into the crowd, staring up at the staircase with the rest of the party goers. I hear whispers of, “Is she really wearing that?” “She dresses like a peasant girl!” “Who did her hair?” Séaryne doesn’t seem to mind though, keeping a calm composure.
“And finally, Mr. and Mrs. Jacque Rouschelle,” the voice calls. Searyne’s parents descend the stairs, arm in arm. Marie’s mouth forms into a large, toothy grin as she waves to all her guests. Jacque seems a tad embarrassed by his wife’s enthusiasm, but manages to maintain his content expression. Séaryne claps for her parents and smiles at her mother when she looks her way.
They pause in the middle of the staircase, watching the crowd with their blue eyes. “Welcome, friends, to this wondrous evening,” Jacque speaks to his guests.
“It is our pleasure to welcome you to our home. For twenty-five wonderful years Jacque and I have been married, and now I invite you to come celebrate this special anniversary with us,” Marie’s melodious voice continues.
“So come friends; eat, drink, and be merry. We have a lovely orchestra here tonight. I do hope you enjoy yourselves,” he finishes, nodding to the instrumentalists to begin playing.
The crowd disperses and begins to partake in the festivities. The smell of roast meat and sauces drifts to my nose, making my stomach rumble. What a feast it must be! If only I could reach over and snag a bite to eat! It makes me sad to know that all I have waiting for me back home is dry sourdough bread and mushy vegetable stew.
The orchestra begins the evening with a pleasant classical piece. I hear the dark, rich tone of the cellos, playing a lyrical harmony to the violins. The bass seems to hum along, emitting low, rumbling sounds. Two violins play a smooth melody, occasionally playing at pizzicato. I begin to hum and sway to the melodic tune, wishing I could dance with the nobles. The notes make me want to move in a gentle, slow dance.
This celebration really is one to remember. I can see why the Rouschelle family is so prominent. They know how to entertain, and must have quite the reputation. There isn’t a person in Fen who hasn’t heard of this South Reach family. They are perhaps the only powerful family in Fen that isn’t of royal blood. I hear they make their living running the fishing markets in South Reach, and by creating the best selling line of perfumes. Séaryne and her brothers must have big shoes to fill. I think I would be crushed under the weight of such responsibility.
Speaking of Séaryne, she seems to be darting about the crowd, avoiding any conversation if possible. I see her make a brave attempt to grab some hors d’oeuvres before a noble tries to speak with her. She manages to escape with a small helping of seasoned bread and two ripe strawberries. She hides herself away in a slight alcove underneath the staircase, and happily eats her snacks.
Just as she swallows the last of her treats, a hand gently taps her on the shoulder. A young man is standing before her. He is rather handsome, with his kind, oval face and soft pale violet eyes. Lengthy, sandy blonde hair frames his freshly shaven face and falls to his shoulders. He is wearing an elegant dark purple tunic with a well-polished black belt over his black formal trousers. Clean black boots cover his feet.
“Pardon the intrusion, but I was wondering if I may have this dance?” he asks with a confident smile.
Séaryne pretends to ponder it for a moment, as if she is deciding whether he is worth her time. “Hmmm…I don’t know. I might step on your feet,” she replies, azure eyes staring straight into his.
“I assure you, I won’t mind,” he responds, holding out his hand to her.
She places her hand within his, their fingers intertwining. A faint blush creeps onto her cheeks as their fingers meet. “I suppose I could dance with you,” she says, holding back a bit of laughter.
“Glad to hear it,” he chuckles, leading her on to the dance floor. They fit together perfectly, as if they were made for each other. A waltz begins to play, and they twirl around the floor, oblivious to all around them.
Judging by the way they look at each other, I assume this man is Gabriel, her fiancé. Séaryne seems to be happiest while with him. I can’t help but smile as I watch them dance. They’re like the prince and princess in a fairytale, dancing together at the ball.
After several moments of dancing, Séaryne rests her head on Gabriel’s chest and says, “Ready to leave tomorrow?”
“The sooner we leave the better. In fact, why don’t we leave tonight?” He responds, his tone jesting.
“Mother would have a fit,” she laughs. I can just picture the woman breaking down into hysterical tears as her only daughter leaves for Dragon’s Maw.
“Then maybe it’s for the best that we leave tomorrow,” he says with a chuckle.
“I find myself agreeing with her, though. I hope nothing goes wrong up there, just for her sake. If I write her telling we fought off even one demon, she’ll have a heart attack.”
“Perhaps I should promise her that I will protect you.”
“Ha! As if I need protecting! How about you watch my back and I watch yours?”
“That sounds fair.”
Séaryne lets out a sigh. “Gabe, tomorrow couldn’t come sooner.”
“Indeed.”
The orchestra finishes the waltz with a magnificent flourish. The conductor turns to the audience and bows as the crowd claps their praise. Séaryne and Gabriel do the proper bows and curtsies as they finish their dance. As they pull apart, Marie calls, “Yoo hoo! Gabriel! Come here! I have someone you have to meet!”
“Good luck,” Séaryne whispers to him. I can tell that she is embarrassed by her mother’s antics. I utter a silent thank you to my mother, where ever she is. I’m so glad she did not behave like a bubbly child when she was alive.
Gabriel takes Séaryne’s hand and gently kisses it, causing her face to turn a light shade of pink again. “I’ll see you later, love,” he says with a loving smile. Her only response is to nod silently and watch him walk away. Marie immediately smothers him with speech. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but she’s firing off words faster than poor Gabriel can keep up with.
He gives Séaryne a look that says, “Help me!” Laughter escapes from her as she watches the scene. Her hands give him an encouraging thumbs up.
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A/N: So, theme #19 was "cerise". My first though was, "WTF is cerise? I've never heard of that before in my life!" So, one visit to Google later, I learn that it is basically pink. So, for you romance fans out there, here's some mushy, gooey stuff! :D
Oh, and Rouschelle is pronounced "roos-shell", if anyone cares.
Please leave a comment! :D
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Every Little Memory
ParanormalImagine being given the gift of sight; the ability to peer into the world beyond, where the souls of the dead walk. Lingering in the very place you live, roaming amongst the streets of your hometown...Shades of a time long past and only you can see...
