The Witch's Tale

Chapter 3: Air

Author's note- I drew inspiration for this chapter from the ballroom scene in Labyrinth, Phantom of the Opera, Love You to Death by Type O Negative and Ghost's own Cirice. This is where the sexy action starts. Enjoy, you dirty birdies!

Sara heads into town to fetch the midwife, a widow known as Old Nan. She can trust no one else to help her into the fantastical gown Papa Emeritus has sent her, for the woman as been her only friend and comfort all these years. After Rob broke her heart, and she found herself alone in a strange town, Nan cared for her when she was too weak with misery to get out of bed. To repay her, Sara would gather herbs and make remedies for the midwife to take to her mothers. In time, she started accompanying the woman to births, and Nan would assist her with more discreet, and perhaps scandalous tasks. An unmarried girl finds herself pregnant before her wedding, and not with her fiance's child? Sara and Nan would take care of it quickly, and with gentleness. A poor woman has had her sixth child, and does not want any more? That was in their area of expertise too. Sara never asked why Old Nan did not treat her with disdain like the rest of the town, why she did not begrudge her presence as other women did. The crone's kindness was an oasis in the lonely desert of her life.

As Sara walks through the town square, she listens to the chatter and gossip. Apparently, the ball is going to be held at the abandoned estate of a long dead noble family remembered for their wickedness and corruption. Their last heir had died fifty years ago from syphilis. And now these mysterious strangers have moved into the dilapidated old estate, though no one knows why.

Back at the cottage, Old Nan helps her with the corset and gown. Pulling laces tight, and slipping pearl buttons through their holes. Omega was right. Everything fits her perfectly. The dress displays her full bosom to best advantage, and the while the skirts are full, they are surprisingly light. She imagines the fabric woven by faerie women, and stitched by supernatural seamstresses. She is determined to find out how Papa obtained this magical confection.

After dressing, she splashes rosewater onto her neck, hair and in the well of her breasts. She rubs a concoction of beeswax, honey and berry juice onto her lips. Old Nan combs her wavy tresses and pins them back loosely. For jewelry, she only has a pair of freshwater pearl earrings she received as Yule present at sixteen, but they will do fine.

Sara can hardly contain her excitement. She would see him again, and perhaps speak with him, maybe even dance with him. She could find out more about who he was, and what he was doing here...

"How do you intend to get there? You have no horse, and you'd ruin that dress if you walk. So what will ye do?" Old Nan asks, interrupting her reverie about the evening ahead.

She had not thought about that. In all her anticipation, she had not even considered it. Her stomach dropped to her knees. All dressed up with no place to go. She sinks into a chair, feeling nothing but despair in her heart. The world turns horribly gray for a moment.

But before the tears that have started to well in her eyes can spill, she hears the clatter of a carriage and horses in her yard. Old Nan goes to the window and announces that one of those strange men has arrived, that he has the black coach with the silver Grucifix.

Sara laughs softly, wiping her eyes.

"It's just like that story bout the scullery maid who slept in ashes, and went to a ball in disguise. But what sort of prince have I found?" she asks, shaking her head in bemusement.

She stands up, and steps outside. The Ghoul who stands before her is tall and elegant. Straight backed, he reminds her of a maypole. The thought amuses her, but she tries not to giggle.