My Ancestors Say... (ON HOLD)

FRIVOLITY

FRIVOLITY

I do so love the mood that parties put me in, so happy and bubbly. But even moreso, I love how they make me feel afterwards, warm and dizzy and slightly confused. All of my fondest memories are associated with acts having been done at or for a party. All of my pleasure senses are irked at the memories of such good times. My vision is blurred from constant twirls on the dancefloor in the arms of a handsome stranger, or from all of the captivating beauty of royalty and citizen alike. The sounds of corks popping and of wine or champagne being poured into golden glasses echoes in my mind. The scents of many different perfumes mingle in my nose, making me melt against the wall. The best part of a party is the touching. Oh, there are so many different things to touch! I am most often found in the arms of a handsome man, whether it be for dancing or pleasure, but there are also the dresses. Silk, cloth, cotton, linen, wool even! I love to feel it all!

"Are you in search of him, Veronika?"

I dragged my gaze from the floor of dancers to Kathy's porcelain face.

"And whom is it you think deserves my glances and interests?" I reply evenly.

"Anthony, of course."

I make a face and stare at her increduously, "Anthony? Why should I search with such intensity this crowd of beauty for a face that stands out so?"

Kathleen wraps her arms around my shoulders gently and pulls me to her, laughing.

"I do enjoy how you squirm and try to avoid my questions when I mention Anthony. Either you think him extraordinarly beautiful to stand out from the crowd or quite ugly that he does not belong in your sight."

I ignored her remarks of Anthony until my scrutinous gaze payed off, "Well I can say who finds you extraordinarly apart from the crowd." I point my finger across the room at a brown haired nobleman who was gawking openly at Kathleen.

My lovely friend blushes pink and swats my hand down, "Please, Veronika. I'm sure he doesn't find me that way. Now do tell me more about your Anthony."

Anthony, Anthony, Anthony! Why is it all about Anthony when it comes to conversation with Kathleen?! And 'my Anthony'?!? He isn't mine! And I am not his! I am Venice's. Plain and simple, rather, beautiful and elegant. I would go wherever Venice whispered, be it to my room this instant or to lay naked with a man on the deck of a ship, gazing at the stars.

But I would not put up with Kathleen and her words. So I grabbed her hands in mine and pulled us into the circle of dancers, we moved with the circle, twirling and laughing, until I saw my opportunity: I pulled us out of the crowd and bumped into the handsome royal who had been eyeing Kathy.

"Oh, my lord. I am so sorry, my friend was leading and she pushes as one pushes a sword." I laugh heartily as Kathy becomes embarassingly captivated with the floor.

"All is well, no harm was done or intended," He replies with a voice as delicious as chocolate, I admit that I turned green with envy for a moment, only a moment though.

"My name is Lysander." He takes my hand and I curtsy.

He takes Kathy's hand and while she curtsys, brings it to his pale lips and kisses it.

"Your friend is shy, I see. Perhaps she was not meant to lead, but to be led instead."

Lysander hands me his glass as he takes Kathy's hands and leads her into the middle of the dance floor.

Finally content with the quiet in my mind, I leaned against the wall and sipped the wine Lysander had left me with. I could feel heat rush to my cheeks as I observed potential gentleman friends across the room.