28 June, 1894 — Misses & Matrons Ball
He was here with Hanna, who hadn't participated in the exhibition but had several friends who did and wanted to go to the ball afterwards to spend time with them. He hadn't seen the competition itself, since it had been during the middle of the work day for him and he'd had no one specifically to go and support — but seeing Rosalie Hunniford amongst the faces at the ball, he immediately wondered whether she had entered or not. It seemed odd to think about her out there existing in the world, attending events and doing things he might never have considered her doing... not that he spent a great deal of time wondering what she was doing. More time than he should, probably, but nothing excessive. (He did not know what would be considered excessive, in this case. There were hardly easy benchmarks for ex-fiancee you're still in love with, who is also still in love with you, and who you are trying to erase from your head).
Well, erase wasn't really the right word. He wasn't trying to get rid of any of the memories he had of her, but he had set about... rounding out the rough edges, as it were. Smoothing them over.
It had been a difficult and lengthy decision, after he remembered her. Things had changed from before and after, because while he had known very well how he felt prior to the incident that spring, he hadn't known that she still felt the same. The possibility of picking things up right where they'd left off was tantalizing — and it seemed possible. Whatever he'd told Hanna while his memories were gone, he'd still wrestled with that idea after getting the context back, but ultimately he'd decided he still couldn't try to pursue her, even if she would let him. He'd been rash before, when he proposed to her — the fact that she drove the shadows away had made him far too optimistic about the future. That optimism had long since abandoned him. He now expected that he would be struggling with his curse his entire life, with or without her. He expected that someday he'd end up confined to a bedroom the same way his father was, speaking nonsense. It was only a matter of time. He couldn't invite Rosie to share that kind of a future with him. That door was just as firmly closed now as it had been when he suspected she hated him.
So what he was doing with his memories was more about pain control than anything. He knew that he'd have to see and interact with Rosalie, since they shared the same world. He knew these interactions would never get any better or easier. So — he was just trying to make them sting a little less.
This was the first event they'd both been at since he'd started his little self-improvement program. Only Hanna knew about it, and even she only knew about it in the vaguest terms — the methods he was using weren't widely known outside of his department. He was curious to see how much progress he'd made, so was thinking of going to talk to her... but didn't want to do so quite so early, in case things went very poorly. The ball had barely even started yet, after all. He'd approach her later, he decided — but his intentions ended up not mattering so much, because when he first approached the refreshment table that evening she was already there, close enough that it would have been rude not to acknowledge her.
"Miss Hunniford," he said. He felt a little like he did when he was conducting an experiment in the Department of Mysteries; monitoring himself for any deviation from the normal. His heart rate had picked up slightly when he noticed her. That was probably fine. "Having a good evening?"
Well, erase wasn't really the right word. He wasn't trying to get rid of any of the memories he had of her, but he had set about... rounding out the rough edges, as it were. Smoothing them over.
It had been a difficult and lengthy decision, after he remembered her. Things had changed from before and after, because while he had known very well how he felt prior to the incident that spring, he hadn't known that she still felt the same. The possibility of picking things up right where they'd left off was tantalizing — and it seemed possible. Whatever he'd told Hanna while his memories were gone, he'd still wrestled with that idea after getting the context back, but ultimately he'd decided he still couldn't try to pursue her, even if she would let him. He'd been rash before, when he proposed to her — the fact that she drove the shadows away had made him far too optimistic about the future. That optimism had long since abandoned him. He now expected that he would be struggling with his curse his entire life, with or without her. He expected that someday he'd end up confined to a bedroom the same way his father was, speaking nonsense. It was only a matter of time. He couldn't invite Rosie to share that kind of a future with him. That door was just as firmly closed now as it had been when he suspected she hated him.
So what he was doing with his memories was more about pain control than anything. He knew that he'd have to see and interact with Rosalie, since they shared the same world. He knew these interactions would never get any better or easier. So — he was just trying to make them sting a little less.
This was the first event they'd both been at since he'd started his little self-improvement program. Only Hanna knew about it, and even she only knew about it in the vaguest terms — the methods he was using weren't widely known outside of his department. He was curious to see how much progress he'd made, so was thinking of going to talk to her... but didn't want to do so quite so early, in case things went very poorly. The ball had barely even started yet, after all. He'd approach her later, he decided — but his intentions ended up not mattering so much, because when he first approached the refreshment table that evening she was already there, close enough that it would have been rude not to acknowledge her.
"Miss Hunniford," he said. He felt a little like he did when he was conducting an experiment in the Department of Mysteries; monitoring himself for any deviation from the normal. His heart rate had picked up slightly when he noticed her. That was probably fine. "Having a good evening?"
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