Of Snakes and Griffins, and How They Fit (A Collection of Poems and Drabbles)

Revenant (Part Three)

        It was tiring, all this waiting. Angelina had never been a patient person. Her mother liked to joke that she had been impatient before she was born, and that's why she had come three weeks early. Angelina liked to think that she had come early not because she was impatient, but because she had a zeal for life. 

        Montague had agreed with me. 

        No. She couldn't go there. She was going to this ball, and she was going to dance and not think of Graham and move on. That's what Alicia had told her to do, anyway.

        Easy for her to say. Cassius had been so easy to see her that he hadn't even stopped to clean off before visiting. He had knocked on the door, walked into the Spinnet family home, and got down on one knee. His proposal had been the talk of town. 

        Alicia had come over the next day, and they had spoken. She had asked in Montague had come to visit yet.

        "No, Allie. Not yet."

        "I'm sure he'll visit soon, even if you did sort of break up before he left."

        No such luck. Instead, nearly a year later, she hadn't even seen him. Once. True, Graham was no social butterfly, but he never just sat in his manor. It was as if he was avoiding her!

        Angelina sighed. Getting over him, remember? If he wanted to see me, he would have by now. Tonight, I am going to go, have a good time, and do my best to fall head over heels for some other person. She nodded at her reflection, grabbed her mask and cloak, and strode out of her chamber. 

        I don't need him. I don't want him. 

-

        The lights twirled above her... No, she twirled below them. After champagne, minor things like that got messed up. The man she danced with was tall and broad, but blond, and too sweet. All he did was compliment her: her dress was so flattering, her eyes like twin stars, her coif was lovely, she had the most elegant neck. It was rather disgusting. She was temped to say

        "Yes, and I also have the largest, most generous dowry." Unfortuantly, nobody would find that especially funny at this party. If Warrington or Alicia or Katie or Bletchley or Montague were here... No! Ugh, he was simply refusing to leave the back of her mind! It was very annoying. 

        So far, her evil plan to fall in love, or at least lust, with someone else had failed. It wasn't that there weren't attractive people here. The gentleman with his hands currently at her waist was in fact a fine specimen - but he wasn't Graham. And, no matter how much is disgusted her, she still just wanted Graham.

        Mercifully, the dance ended, and a waltz started. She recognized it to be an old American one, "the Tennessee Waltz." It had been her favorite to dance with- No!

        "Excuse me?" a cultured, male voice said from somewhere to her left. His accent was of the Isles, but with a touch of Italian. She turned. A darkly tanned, black-haired man stood in front of her. "May I have this dance?" He took her hand and kissed it with dark, mischievous eyes, and something tinged in the back of Angelina's mind. She pushed it away, and smiled flirtatiously. Finally, a man who might be able to rival Montague. 

        "Certainly," she replied. And then she was swept away. The tune wasn't fast by any stretch of the imagination, and so there was no reason not to speak. "What is your name, sir?" she asked. He paused, and for a moment she wondered if he knew his own name. 

        "You may call me Glauco," he said. "But what is your name?"

        "Angelina," she replied. 

        "Because you are an angel," he agreed. "Well, Angel, what is your message?" His dark eyes cloyed at hers, and she wondered what he was really asking?

        "Pardon?" 

        "Angels are considered messangers from God. What, then, is your message?" Angelina shook her head, perplexed.

        "I know not." He nodded. 

        "So be it." They spent the rest of the dance in silence, and then, instead of walking her the customary distance, Angelina was led onto a small balcony. 

        "What-" she began.

        "There are too many ears within. You may not have a message for me, but I have one for you." He paused. "That song, the Tennessee Waltz - I do not know if you know the words, but I do. It is about a loss of the person you love to a friend. You see, I did that... But it wasn't a friend, it was my line of work."

        "Did she die?" Angelina asked, unable to control herself.

        "No."

        "Did she marry?"

        "No."

        "Then why is she lost?"

        "Because she hates me." Glauco turned away from Angelina and looked out over the garden.

        "Oh." Angelina took a deep breathe. "The same thing happened to me. I lost my... boyfriend to his work. He's still alive, I think, but... He's gone, too."

        "He hates you?"

        "I don't know."

        "Do you hate him?"

        "No! If anything, I hate that I still love him!" Angelina covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, I just met you and-" Glauco untied the strings of his mask and turned around. 

        "Angelina." The accent was gone, and two deep blue eyes locked into her own. 

        "Montague?" He looked down. "Graham? Is that really-" She reached out to touch his face, but withdrew. "Wh-what do you want?" Was that her stutter? She hadn't stuttered sincce she was three and just learning how to talk properly!

        "Angelina, I-"

        "How dare you, just show up an-"

        "Please? Just listen, and then you can verbally abuse me all you like." Fair enough. "I am sorry that I waited to see you until tonight. My behavior has been atrocious. I am quite ashamed... But I hope I ccan spend the rest of my life making it up to you." Angelina raised an eyebrow. "You see, it took me a year of seperation, six months of which was spent mentally berating myself, before I became quite aware of something: I love you. I just wanted to see if you hated me before I reappeared."

        "I have spent the last year trying to get over you, and failing miserably, and now you just show up and say you love me and stuff?" She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I have cried and screamed and wailed and nearly stopped living, and now you have the nerve to just-" She opened her eyes and saw him down on one knee, a dimond pinched between his fingers.

        "Angelina? Will you marry me? I know I screwed up and ruined you life for a while but I want to make it up to you in every possible way. Please, love." She stared. In fact, she gawked.

        "You're going to have to start by telling my mother and then whisking me away immediately," she warned.

        "It would be my pleasure." His eyes glittered with promise. Smiling, Angelina held our her hand, palm down. The ring fit perfectly onto her hand, and she fit perfectly into his arms.