Unhallowed: The Common Man's Trade

Dalyn's P.O.V. : "Mist and Melancholy"

I've been counting down the hours until this party, but not the minutes until it commences, the minutes until it ends. Guests started arriving a half hour ago. I can hear the voices beginning to collect in the ballroom even all the way up here. The sweet melody of the violin creates a warm, heavenly overtone to the hell I know is brewing in that room. An evening of meaningless gossip and socializing in a room of people who can't comb their own hair or form their own opinion on anything. I'm sitting on a bench in the upper hallway with my head pressed against the wall and I can feel my IQ lower as the gabbing grows louder. I know I must greet them soon as a gracious host with the guest of honor on his arm. I hate to admit, but all I want to do is sit here until everyone leaves. I want to let Rosalie run the show, after all it is for her, but what kind of nobleman doesn't attend his own event? I cannot allow the investors and aristocrats swarming around the ballroom to have any doubt in my social standing. That would be embarrassing to my parents' reputation, and I have more respect for them than to let their names be slandered by my actions.

 I had only just begun to learn about my role as an Everman when my father left. Eight years old and I was accompanying my proud father to business meetings and galas much larger than the one brewing in my ballroom right now. At that time I enjoyed it. I saw the respect my father had earned from his partners and high society itself and I knew that I wanted someone to think of me that way when I was his size. It was such a shock to everyone when he disappeared, because no one seemed to have a bad word to say about him. Many rumors surround my father's sudden vanishing, so many that my head spins with the terrible possibilities of which one could possibly be the truth. Some say he was in debt and couldn't face my mother afterwards, some say he had an affair and decided to leave us behind. I don't care what they say. I know my father wouldn't have left us without a reason. Still, I wish he were here to tell me how I'm supposed to run these sorts of gatherings.

 "Dalyn? Are you hiding up here somewhere?"

 Rosalie is coming up the stairs. Her dress heels click against the hardwood stairs and her nails slide up the railing, but I do not open my eyes. I listen to the tinkling of the flute rising above the deep orchestral sounds as she comes closer. Click...Click...Click... "There you are! I've been looking for you."

 I let one eye slip open. My mask sits in my lap but Rosalie already has hers on. It's sparkling, even in the absence of the chandelier. Large eye holes that excentuate her honey-gold eyes and whiskers off the edges of the faint pink paint. Some kind of shimmery substance  was sprinkled over the simple cat mask; something much less extravagent than I was expecting from someone of her tastes. I was imagining a mask twice too big for her face with expensive feathers sticking off in every direction. This is much more tasteful than I expected. Her dress was long, barely sweeping the floor with its pink and pearl ruffles, also less extravagent than anticipated. Is this my Rosalie standing before me? Or some imposter? "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

 "Oh that's no trouble, I knew I was bound to find you eventually." She smiles kindly and walks to join me on my bench, but if I were to slide over I would fall onto the floor and that isn't a sight I'd like her to remember about me. I want her to see me as a man she can have faith in; a proud Everman like my father was to my mother. Falling over would make me seem childish.

 Just as I go to stand, she puts her thin fingers on my chest and gently pushes me back as I was before. She picks up my mask and sits herself in its place, crossing her ankles with her kitten heels just peeking out from under her skirt. She lays an arm over my shoulder and the other against the breast-pocket of my coat. I feel the heat rise on my cheeks despite my efforts to suppress it. It's not the first time she's done something bold like this, but with a hundred people mulling about underneath us makes this feel scandalous. This feeling in my chest is brewing. We can get caught at any moment, and then what will that do to our reputations? However, this boldness from the sable-haired beauty sitting in my lap is the evidence I need to be sure that this is indeed my lady.