Post by LILA DAY on Jul 16, 2012 12:19:24 GMT -5
Masquerades felt familiar to Lila, even though she had never been to one in her entire life. It held a thrill of fear, excitement and wonder, though she couldn’t explain exactly why there was a fear to it. Something about the unknown, and yet—all the dresses, the masks. It was far too perfect, and it made her lips curl upwards. The only thing that would make this better, and a bit like one of the wonderful romance novels is if Kevin somehow found out about it, and could pick her out of a crowd, and swept her away in the whirlwind of romance and mystery. But the likelihood of that was pathetically unlikely. Even still, she had to manage to enjoy the evening, recall everything so she could tell Kevin about it all in her e-mails.
Lila even had taken a few pictures to send to him. Apparently, she was supposed to save the last dance for him—as silly as it sounded. But he seemed to be the only one that she was comfortable actually being silly around. She drew in a breath, and let it out in a low sigh as she stepped into the ballroom. She didn’t stand out in any sort of way, and at the same time—she felt beautiful. A soft, rose pink chiffon dress swept at her feet, the dress tailored so her heels barely poked out from under the dress. A matching shawl wrapped her elbows, leaving her shoulder bare, and pulled back. Her chin was held straight up, and everything about her screamed of a dancer. Her neck looked elongated with the careful up-do that her hairdresser had organized, with two, matching pink organza’s clipped into her rich, chocolate brown hair. To complete the look, a pink mask had set on her cheeks, leaving the tip of her nose exposed, and settled over her eyes.
Though the dresses were modern, and the music was modern—with a bit of wonderful imagination, Lila was easily able to immerse herself in the fantasy of the Masquerade. Once upon a time, people dressed in costume, organized danced. This was a far cry from those days, but it was still easy to add her own imagination to it. Make it something a little more than it actually was. She folded her hands in front of her hips, and moved to the side of the dance floor. Her shoulders brushed against the wall, however she did not lean. Ladies did not lean, and being a dancer taught her to stand un comfortable positions. Her mind too her to a different place while she watched the floor. Just because people were grinding on the dance-floor didn’t mean they should. Instead, she imagined ghosts of the past, dancing amongst the living now. It caused her red lips to spread in another smile as she stared off into the distance.
It was more fuel for her imagination; she hadn’t expected to dance this evening. In fact, she came simply to imagine and pretend she was someone else for the evening. It was easy to have courage when hidden behind a mask, but that meant she would have to get off her rear end and approach someone. But it felt wrong; it wouldn’t be a far stretch to think that she was waiting for someone. Her smile faded slightly as she let her mind wander. There were two people she wished could have been here with her. One, obviously Kevin. Her best friend as a child, and the thought of it made the necklace about her neck feel heavy. Her delicate fingers reached up and curled around the pendant. The second person was her father. It would have been silly, but she would have loved a single dance with her father at a place like this. They would dance to their own music, nothing like what was playing now. He would be proud at how elegant his daughter looked, and she would be proud that the mysterious gentleman in the room was her very own father. Her hero.
“Daddy, you would have loved this.” She murmured, before letting the pendant drop back onto her chest. Her breath came out in a slight shuddering sigh, and she blinked rapidly a few times to blink back the sting in her eyes. Her father and Kevin wouldn’t want her to cry here, they would want her to enjoy herself, to have fun.
And yet she was still torn. As much as she willed her feet to carry her onto the dance floor—they remained firmly planted at her spot on the edge of the dance floor. She drew her shawl around her upper arms, clutching the thin fabric like a security blanket.
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OUTFIT
