February 12, 1894 — Amormentia Ball, London

Had Dorian payed any attention at all to the invitation beyond the required address and type of festivities, he would have avoided the Amortentia Ball altogether. He had little interest in the reminder of what his scent would hold — Winnie's perfume, likely some notes of citrus — and even less interest in crafting some sort of lie to mask what he did smell. It wasn't difficult moving on from the life he thought he'd have with Winnie, not when the reality of the situation became clearer the further he got from it. Dorian had simply never been a masochist, and as such understood his limitations.

Perhaps that was why he drifted towards Miss Applegate. She, being a seasoned debutante, would likely have something of note to speak of, or so he hoped. His limp tonight was minimal, the pain potion he'd taken just prior to leaving taking most of the edge off. He hoped to dance, too, though what little practice he'd had in his parlor spoke of what a terrible idea that was.

"Good evening, Miss Applegate," he greeted cheerfully. "Are you enjoying the pianist here tonight? I have to say, I was hoping for something more lively."

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Johanna Applegate

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Normally, winter events were very crucial for Hanna's general well being. However, she did not want to see what her amortentia smelled like — she imagined it would be dreadfully disappointing if it smelled like nothing — for all that she was curious about amortentia. And, to make matters worse, the music was boring. It was slow. She was sure that made dancing easier, but it did not appeal to her, or to the tingling in her legs!

She turned abruptly at the sound of her name. Hanna raised an eyebrow at Mr. Fisk. "I'm not enjoying the pianist," she said, without hesitation, "I think he's rather mediocre."

  

Her assessment was a fair one, and Dory felt himself nodding in quiet agreement. That Miss Applegate had opinions on music was something he'd gleaned over the years of random interactions, though with how readily she dismissed the pianist he was beginning to wonder if it was the right avenue for conversation. "He is rather dull." Dory admitted. "Do you play? I'd imagine anything would be more exciting than this."

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Hanna shook her head; the motion was slightly too severe to be called graceful. "I was never much good," she admitted, "But I like to listen. Do you?"

Pianos were a typical instrument, if she was more coordinated she would wish that she could play something more unique than a debutante's piano.

  

"No, I never had the patience to learn." That, and he was always interested in more physical pursuits. Perhaps he'd try again now that he could no longer fly or dance. "I enjoy visiting the theater though, there was a sonata a few years ago that I still think of often."

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Hanna smiled at Mr. Fisk. "I like the ballet when I can get there," she said. Even though she had to sit still the whole time, it wasn't too bad — there was music throughout the whole performance, which usually helped to steady her nerves. "The dancing is beautiful — and the music."

  

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The dancing was largely why that particular sonata remained stuck in his head. Dory had never seen dancers move so fluidly and with such extreme flexibility. "I agree. The shows can be moving too, sometimes more so than an opera.

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"Exactly!" Hanna said; she bobbed her head in excited agreement. "They have a story. And there's more to look at than an opera." Human voices were the worst instrument, too — the best instrument was trumpet.

  

He grinned, relieved to not be alone in his sentiments. "I believe there's a new show opening in a few weeks. Perhaps we can compare notes on the story." He offered, still smiling.

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Hanna smiled back at Mr. Fisk. "I would like that," she said brightly. "Hopefully I'll have seen it by the next time I see you."

  

"I look forward to it." Perhaps he'd attempt to learn an instrument in the interim too. It'd give him something to do besides mope over Winnie and his injury. "Until then, Miss Applegate."

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beautiful set by lady