(1310-12-22) Reflections on the Ball
Summary: Desarae reflects on her first Midwinter Masqued Ball.
RL Date: January 22nd, 2018
Related: Elua: Midwinter Ball
desarae 

Sapphire Suite - Mereliot Residence — Elua City


Desarae's first public appearance since the loss of her father had been a long time in coming, but perhaps enjoyed all the more because of it. She'd retired to her bedchamber as dawn had turned the rooftops of Elua a rosy pink and gold, and maids that had accompanied her from Marsilikos were quick to gather up discarded clothing and jewels from where she'd dropped them on her passage through her suite to her bed.

Now, as bright sunlight streams through the drawn back drapes in her room, it strikes off the diamonds of her mother's tiara where it nestles within the velvet of a black leather travelling case. Rainbow prisms cast by it play upon the young heiress' face where she sits at a rosewood ormolu, her chemise and matching wrap of white lace and silk the perfect foil for polished black hair that falls without kink or curl to the small of her back. She holds her quill poised at the bottom of another entry into her personal journal, prepared to dot the final sentence once she's happy with what's been written.


Nicolas was barely able to conceal his anxiety when we parted last night; he to sit vigil at Elua's Temple, and myself into a carriage to be conveyed to the Midwinter Masque. I could feel his disapproval for my attending the ball without his protection quite plainly, for it rolled off him in waves so thick that I thought they would knock me off my beautifully silk-slippered toes. I suppose that I /can/ understand to some degree his worries, but I was perfectly safe in the company of my aunt and the Lady Charlène, and security could not have been tighter at the palace itself.

It was at the ball that I learned of my lady cousin Ailene's betrothal to Lord Thibault Charlot, the heir to Chateaugiron. I had /never/ imagined her to be given in a match with a Kusheline family, or even thought that she would be so happy in one since it just feels so terribly wrong. She is not suited in temperament to be wed to a Kusheline lord. I told her this to her face, but she tells me that they are so very much in love. Whatever 'being in love' means. Lord Thibault's cousin, Lord Cyriel was also there last night, and I felt that the Vicomte disapproves wholeheartedly of the match, for you could have cut the atomosphere between the three with a blade when he greeted them.

There is so much else to say; of the dances that were had and the connections which were made. I met my cousin Julius too, whom I have not seen since we were children. He is sixteen now, like myself, and like myself it was also his first year at the ball. But I shall have to stop writing for now since we are to head back to Marsilikos this very morning.

I have decided that I will ask for my riding habit to be laid out, the peacock blue and gold one, for I wish to ride alongside Nicolas for the first part of our journey back home. I have so very much that I need to tease him about; mostly about his vigil and how grumpy he was, but also I need to horrify him with an overly dramatic account of how my cousin Quintien was nearly killed when an icicle fell from the ceiling. He will hate me, I'm sure.


Setting her quill down, Desarae picks up a small wooden carving of a bird that's been worn smooth from the touch of her fingers, and holding it safe in the palm of her hand, she moves to the table in the window where a late breakfast for two has been set; poached lobster tails in a butter and lemon sauce, and a selection of warm bread rolls and fruit preserves.

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