So close that I could feel his breath warming up my face...
So close that I could have reached out and touched him...
So close that our fingertips would have met...
So close... but yet so far.
~>*<~
Princess Lucy Heartfilia stood in the center of the room, dazzling everyone with her startling beauty. Sun-streaked curls fell perfectly against a pure white satin bodice and ended at a tightly cinched waist. Delicate hands were adorned with rings that matched the pearl-studded embroidery of her over skirts. Eyebrows arched like angels' wings framed pretty chocolate orbs, set in flawless skin as creamy as alabaster. A pale pink rose-petal mouth turned ever so slightly at the corners. Upon her brow sat a thin circlet of white gold, inlaid with more pearls.
"Your Highness," The next man in front of her bent down and kissed her hand softly. Lucy stifled a sigh before it escaped her lips. How she wished this receiving line would end already! It was already half an hour into the ball, and there was still a long line of people waiting to be received. She spoke politely to the man, then bowed courteously. Just then, Michelle, her lady-in-waiting, sidled up to her. "Forgive me. I need to borrow Your Highness for a while," she said softly. The man nodded and excused himself.
As Michelle led her away, Lucy whispered, 'What was that for?" "I figured you were getting a little... bored, your Highness," Michelle smiled, and let her go. "It is time for you to let loose, princess." Lucy, confused, laughed lightly. She, the Princess of Fiore, bored? Okay, she had to admit that the party was becoming slightly boring, what with random men coming up and wiggling their eyebrows at her. She smiled gently, thanking Michelle silently for understanding her, and edged her way slowly into the crowd.
Those who were not at the receiving line consisted of married couples and single ladies. Their eyes widened, due to completely different reasons: men's jaws dropped, while women's brows furrowed. Lucy smirked to herself; it was unbecoming of a princess to think she was superior to others. So she waved, ever so slightly, at their surprised faces and averted her gaze to the crystal chandelier above them that suddenly looked so interesting.
Accidentally she bumped into a broad chest, covered by satin. Looking down, she saw a tunic of dusk rose bound at the waist by a black velvet sash, with oriented gold trim running down the sides. The sleeves were long and black, with the same dusky rose covering shoulder blades just as broad as the chest, and the edges were trimmed by gold. Hiding probably calloused fingers were matching gloves, but between the area of sleeve and glove, Lucy could see the most handsome tan of skin. Her cheeks flushed when it might have seemed like she was eye-raping whoever it was in front of her as a gray cape with fur trim swished out majestically behind. Tied together by gold rope, gold outlined the cloth; Lucy couldn't wait any longer, she looked up and managed to stifle a laugh just in time.
The man had pink rosy hair, almost matching the dark shades of his shirt. An expression mixed with amusement and confusion donned his equally-tanned face, which was the reason she nearly laughed. He must have predicted that, because he bent down and furrowed his brows at her.
