20 December 1894 — Minister's Winter Ball
The ball itself was fairly trite, Dru thought, but she was grateful for it all the same. The winter theme with falling snow wasn't especially original, but with two other masquerades on the calendar for December and frightfully little else she was glad to have at least one event where she didn't have to wear a mask. How were people meant to have original, interesting, breathtaking masks twice in two weeks? Of course the answer was that most people didn't care about being original, interesting, or breathtaking, but Dru was particular about her accessories. She wouldn't wear a mask that clashed with her jewelry, which meant she had to have one made for the occasion, which meant she had to come up with an idea for how to make a mask look novel for both occasions. So snow, while boring, was at least a refreshing change. She was wearing lapis lazuli tonight, set in silver, and had her dark hair swept up with elaborate silver pins. The darkness of the gown made her look a little gaunt, but in the setting of the ball she rather thought it suited her — it came off more glowing than vampiric.
She had danced the requisite waltz with her husband, then another dance with Eamon, and had now forsaken the dance floor in favor of people-watching and trying to guess what would explode first. Mr. Watson was here, with a girl hanging off his arm; Mor was also. That could spell trouble. The Minister's youngest brother had already wandered off, following puppy-eyed behind some girl with a low-cut dress, which could also be trouble. Mr. Echelon-Arnost looked uncomfortable; nothing new, but she wondered if it was due to the presence of whomever had rejected him lately? That could spell trouble, but less likely; whoever was involved there, it hadn't yet become a society-wide scandal, which meant they were probably the quiet, boring sort. At least when Morrigan had turned a man down she had done it with dramatic flair.
As she wandered through the ballroom and scanned the crowds, her foot suddenly stuck. Dru looked down, momentarily confused, then spotted the mistletoe above her. Ah. Well, someone was going to be very lucky, then, when they noticed her plight and came along to rescue her. Mistletoe was such a strange thing; the leaves looked so sharp, and yet everyone thought it a symbol of love.
She scanned the room nearby, caught the eye of a gentleman who wasn't terribly unattractive, and waved.
Open to: the man she waved at, or someone who stumbles by before he has a chance? Potential for affair-hurling~
She had danced the requisite waltz with her husband, then another dance with Eamon, and had now forsaken the dance floor in favor of people-watching and trying to guess what would explode first. Mr. Watson was here, with a girl hanging off his arm; Mor was also. That could spell trouble. The Minister's youngest brother had already wandered off, following puppy-eyed behind some girl with a low-cut dress, which could also be trouble. Mr. Echelon-Arnost looked uncomfortable; nothing new, but she wondered if it was due to the presence of whomever had rejected him lately? That could spell trouble, but less likely; whoever was involved there, it hadn't yet become a society-wide scandal, which meant they were probably the quiet, boring sort. At least when Morrigan had turned a man down she had done it with dramatic flair.
As she wandered through the ballroom and scanned the crowds, her foot suddenly stuck. Dru looked down, momentarily confused, then spotted the mistletoe above her. Ah. Well, someone was going to be very lucky, then, when they noticed her plight and came along to rescue her. Mistletoe was such a strange thing; the leaves looked so sharp, and yet everyone thought it a symbol of love.
She scanned the room nearby, caught the eye of a gentleman who wasn't terribly unattractive, and waved.
ty MJ <3