31 October, 1892 — Jekyll & Hyde Ball, English Countryside

An anonymously hosted ball where guests were asked to conceal their faces and drink a mystery potion before entering didn't just hint at mischief; it practically smacked you over the head with it. So showing up at all tonight had been a risk, but Ezra wasn't exactly risk averse, when it came to silly things like this. It depended on the shadows, really. If they were far away he had a tendency to be blindingly optimistic, to the point where he wouldn't think twice about drinking a mystery potion and just assuming everything would work out fine on the other side. When they were too close, his growing fatalism made it hard to care about the consequences even if he was sure there would be negative ones. He was going to die someday anyway, and was probably never going to be happy in the meantime; who cared if there were some rumors milling about in the periphery of his life? So it was really only within a very narrow margin that Ezra weighed risk at all, and neither the invitation nor the day of the party had managed to hit that very narrow window.

He was dressed as a circus ringmaster for the evening. One of his sisters had found a red and gold suit coat with tails at a Muggle secondhand shop, and the rest was easy to assemble from clothes he already owned. He'd added a plain black demi mask to meet the requirements of the masquerade aspect, selected a potion at the door without putting much thought into the question he was asked, and then melted into the party. It was meant to be a ball, but the layout wasn't what he would have expected; the group was spread over too many rooms, and few of them seemed large enough to allow any room for dancing. But the house had clearly been meticulously decorated with its candles and apples and such, and the servants in their matching checkerboard attire added an element of mystique. He wasn't in the state of mind where an excess of poor lighting would make him anxious, and he was two drinks down and enjoying himself so far.

In one of the smaller rooms, farther back from the entrance, he spotted her. Rosalie Hunniford — or someone who looked very much like her, anyway. Across the room and wearing a mask, he couldn't be immediately sure it wasn't another blond woman with her same build, but he thought it was her. Seeing her at events wasn't unusual, of course — he'd been seeing her at events ever since he'd started attending them again, ten months after she'd left him. Usually, though, he diverted his gaze as soon as it landed on her — careful not to linger long enough to catch her eye. Tonight something was different: he saw her and let himself stare. He wanted her to notice him, and to notice him noticing her. He didn't interrogate the impulse overmuch — maybe it was because the last interaction they'd had was her letter more or less accusing him of dodging society events because he was unwell. Maybe he wanted her to notice he was here so that her mind could rest easy on that point.

Maybe it was something else.

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Rosalie Hunniford

  

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~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~

Ezra

Rosalie hadn't been nervous about the ball until she was forced to ingest a potion of unknown qualities. She warned patients against doing so on a daily basis and yet, when given the option of succumbing to pressure or leaving, Rosie too had caved. However, she had spent far too long embroidering her costume for it to never be seen. And so, she answered her rather simple question and drank the foul tasting potion without another minute's hesitation.

She wandered throughout the rooms without much purpose, pausing only to admire other's costumes or engage in whatever banal small talk. Few recognized her in her shimmering black gown and heavy golden mask, but such was her intention. An evening without whispers or stress. A night of complete anonymity.

Or, so Rosie had hoped.

The weight of Ezra's gaze was familiar now. It rarely lasted for more than a second or two and she was often not courageous enough to return it. (How could she be when every interaction they'd had over the past two years left her feeling miserable and alone once more?) Tonight, though, Ezra's stare burned through her layers of anonymity. It took her less than a minute to find the man she presumed to be him. From this distance it was impossible to be certain whether the piercing dark gaze was that of her ex-fiance. Who else would recognize her as immediately as him though? Who else would stare as intently as him?

Turning towards him fully, her dress shimmering like stardust as she moved, Rosie met his stare with an equally focused one of her own. Though, whether the look was one of defiance or invitation, she wasn't quite sure.

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stunning set by Lady <3

She looked his way and his breath caught. This wasn't surprising, given how she looked tonight — her dress was perhaps more elaborate than anything he'd seen her in before, shimmering like a cloak of stars, and it suited her well. He still couldn't have proven it was her, but based on the way she returned his look he doubted very much it could be anyone else behind the golden mask. She wasn't just letting her eyes fall on him as she scanned the crowd; she was very intentionally returning his gaze, and holding it. If he'd only wanted to ensure she saw him then he have returned to the party now secure in the knowledge that he'd succeeded... but he didn't want to move on. He'd been avoiding her for years, since she'd broken their engagement. Every interaction he'd had with her since then had been initiated by her — with the possible exception of when he'd confronted her in the hallway outside the Hogwarts Coming Out Ball, but even that he tended to think of as her starting it, since she'd come to interrupt his conversation with the debutante just moments before. He wouldn't have sought her out if she hadn't already injected herself into his night.

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to talk to her, obviously. Particularly in the immediate aftermath of her departure, but still today, he wanted to confront her and demand answers — or beg reconciliation, depending on his mood. But he never had, because he had always tried to make himself as unobtrusive to her as possible. He never let his eyes linger on her because he suspected she would be uncomfortable if their eyes met unexpectedly. He never approached her because anything that he wanted to say — harsh words or groveling or anything in between — would have ended up hurting her. Keeping his distance whenever he could was something like a final lingering act of love — or at least of respect. Always trying to make her comfortable; trying not to hurt her.

But why did he owe her that? She left him. If anyone owed the other anything...

So maybe tonight, as an experiment, he wouldn't adapt to her. Maybe he wouldn't take any action to avoid being in her way, avoid saying anything that might sting, avoid making her uncomfortable. Maybe he wouldn't bother looking away now that their eyes had met.

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~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~

Ezra

Instinct screamed at her to look away, to abandon whatever rogue thoughts of allowing this to continue, to flee the room entirely and carry on with her evening. However, the longer their eyes held the less Rosalie wanted to look away. It had been years since she last allowed herself to meet his gaze without a thought otherwise, years since she last felt he was looking at her with something other than bitterness. She never wanted to stop looking at him.

Unfortunately, neither of them had dressed as statues for the evening's event, which meant they had to move on eventually.

(They always had to move on.)

Ultimately, Rosalie looked away first in favor of smiling her hello to a friend who had recognized her. The evening took her further away from Ezra then. She danced with two men — neither dance a waltz, Rosalie had yet to return to the waltz after their breakup — and enjoyed no less than two flutes of champagne as she wandered from room to room. Even so, the weight and intensity of Ezra's stare remained with her, as did her growing desire to challenge him into action.

The opportunity came later in the evening, when they had both returned to one of the smaller, darker rooms. And, although she continued to make no move to physically approach him, Rosalie raised her glass in a otherwise silent salute.

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stunning set by Lady <3

She moved on; he didn't. What a fitting turn of events. But if this party tonight was a microcosm of their whole relationship to date, Ezra was determined that it would end differently this time. He wouldn't shy away or cower from her. If she wanted to avoid him, she would have to do it without his help.

For a while she did. She was talking to people, getting new drinks, even dancing with people (which he thought seemed a little put-on; had she picked out those partners for his benefit? an attempt to make him uncomfortable enough to back down?) while Ezra kept himself superficially occupied doing much the same. Every minute or so his eyes went back to her, and he never hurried to look away. She wasn't meeting his eyes most of the time, but it seemed to him that she knew he was watching. There was a tension in the air between them that he didn't think he could have wholly imagined.

He was engaged in casual conversation with a woman he vaguely knew — a friend of his sister's — when it happened: Rosalie finally deigned to give him her attention again and Ezra felt a surge of satisfaction. Might as well give her a show, he thought. He acknowledged her salute with nothing more than a smirk before turning his attention back to the young woman. He took half a step closer and laughed, not because what she had said was especially funny but because he needed the laugh to cover what he wanted to do next. He reached his hand out and laid it on her forearm, then let it linger there — not an overtly improper gesture but something far more intimate than was generally allowable in an interaction like this. Allowances could be made for a masquerade, after all.

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~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~

Ezra

The challenge, so carelessly thrown out, was answered in the worst possible way, for it wasn't her he then turned and laughed with. No, it was some other debutante in a costume both so obvious in theme and lacking in effort that she ought to have not participated at all. Then, to make matters worse, Ezra went and touched her as though they were familiar.

The mask hid some of how her face fell but not all. Rosalie had never possessed a talent for masking her emotions and even if she could she was certain Ezra would see through her regardless. Still, she did her best to carry on as though unaffected. Her raised glass was soon emptied and another retrieved. She carried on conversations as easily as before. If Ezra was looking to act cruelly, then Rosalie would simply have to deny him the satisfaction of knowing it got to her.

Although Rosalie no longer met his stares so plainly, she remained keenly aware of his presence. He was always just in the corner of her peripherals, always just enough out of sight that she could plausibly claim deniability. It was hard not to watch him though, harder still not to focus on what he was doing with the poorly dressed girl.

That she had drifted to the darkened far side of the room while laughing along with whatever nonsense her suitor had to say wasn't something she was entirely aware of. Not until the man held her hands to his lips for a minute too long and promised to return to her for the next set. And then, rather suddenly, Rosalie was alone for what felt like the first time that evening.

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stunning set by Lady <3

"Sneaking away?" he asked. It would have been difficult to pretend he hadn't been watching her wandering towards the edge of the room with the gentleman, given how quickly he swooped in once he'd gone, so Ezra didn't bother trying to pretend. She knew he'd been watching her on and off all night anyway. And he assumed (perhaps egocentrically) that this latest development had been for his benefit: allowing herself to be led over into the less crowded, less well lit areas of the party, getting that bloke to leave the lingering kiss on her fingers, the flurry of musical laughter.

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~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~

Ezra

Having watched him cross the room, she wasn't at all surprised by his arrival. "And if I was?" Rosalie steadily asked in response. She hadn't been, not with any conscious intent anyway, not that she'd ever reveal as much to him.

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stunning set by Lady <3

Ezra scoffed. "It'd be a bit much," he said, as though he really believed she might sneak off to a dark closet with someone just to prove an unspoken point to him. Given the looks they'd been exchanging all night, it might not actually have been out of the question. The main thing stopping him from doing something similar was that he couldn't keep his attention on anyone else long enough to properly seduce them, but he assumed Rosalie wouldn't have that sort of trouble finding a willing gentleman.

"How much have you had to drink tonight?" he asked, with one eyebrow slightly raised.

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~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~

Ezra

What exactly would be a bit much? She nearly demanded of him. That she would sneak away with someone else? Or that she would sneak away only to spite him? The tension between them might've been crackling that evening, but she wouldn't ever go so far with someone she barely knew. She'd made that mistake once and was still collecting the shards of her heart from the floor.

"Not enough to matter." She answered instead as she rolled her eyes. Rosalie's tolerance for alcohol had grown tremendously over the past two years, never again would she be that stumbling fool of Valentine's Day. She took a half step forward, her eyes focused entirely on him as she pointedly discarded her mostly full glass on the nearby table.

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stunning set by Lady <3

That was cruel, Ezra thought as he watched her deposit the glass on the table. There was an apology on the tip of his tongue, but there was also a strange feeling of... power, knowing that something he'd just said had gotten under her skin at least enough for her to have put down a flute of champagne. It had been years since he had felt like he had any sort of control over any of their interactions, and the last party at which they'd crossed paths had been the worst of all. Him: helpless; Rosalie: pitying. Of course, that hadn't been her fault — or at least, it wasn't her fault any more than any of his darker episodes since she'd left him were. (Things had gotten worse since she'd left. He didn't know definitively that it was because of how things had unfolded, so he tried to pretend it wasn't. He told himself it was probably something that would have happened anyway, as time wore on and his usual defense mechanism grew stale. But sometimes it was difficult not to see more than correlation between the two).

"You planned to catch attention tonight," he observed. "Wearing that."

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~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~

Ezra

"I caught your attention." She pointed out with a smirk. There was no point in lying about her intentions, even if his attention specifically wasn't her goal. Rosalie hadn't put weeks of effort into her costume for it to remain unnoticed. She wanted to be seen, to have eyes upon her in wonder of who that woman was. Years had passed since she last felt noticed for something other than her broken engagement, few could blame her for seizing an evening to feel special once more.

She toyed with the gauzy sleeve of her dress, allowing the gold threads to sparkle in the dim light. "It is a beautiful dress, isn't it?"

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stunning set by Lady <3

He didn't answer her (presumably rhetorical) question about the beauty of the dress. He wasn't watching her because she looked beautiful, or at least he didn't think he was. He was watching her because he felt she had dressed to attract attention and wanted to be watched — maybe not by him, but generally — and he felt that other men would have been watching her tonight. She couldn't dress so brazenly and expect him to dutifully avert his eyes to avoid her... not tonight, anyway. If she wanted to be seen, he was going to ensure she knew he saw her.

"You have my attention," he agreed. On a whim he reached out to take part of the sleeve she'd been playing with in his hands, mimicking the way she'd wrested it between her fingers in a languid, unhurried way. "What to you plan to do with it?"

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~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~

Ezra

The problem was Rosalie knew instantly what exactly she wished to do now that she had his attention, and it was perhaps the most singular thing she could not do. Not because they were at a party (they'd stolen their share of moments in hidden alcoves in the months following their engagement) or because she feared getting caught (she didn't, at all) but because it was him. It was Ezra who now dared to touch her sleeve. It was Ezra who asked such a leading question. They couldn't have these stolen moments anymore, it simply wasn't permissible.

But, Merlin knew she yearned to.

If he was anyone else, Rosalie would have followed the question up with actions as opposed to words. It was only with great restraint that she hadn't already closed the distance between them. (Would he accept such an act? Or would he push her away?) Rosalie stared at him, the air heavy with unspoken desire. She had to leave, had to step away from this before she did something they would both regret in the morning.

Her feet wouldn't move.

She allowed her hand to graze his but remained speechless.

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stunning set by Lady <3

She may have intended to just let her fingertips trail over the back of his hand but Ezra was having none of that. As soon as he felt her touch he grabbed her wrist. He held her arm, and held her gaze. She still hadn't answered his question, and he didn't intend to let her dodge it.

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~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~

Ezra

Rosalie felt trapped between her blazing desire for more and what she knew was the right thing to do. She didn't pull away from his grasp, barely even blinked as she tried to will words — any words — to form. It would be the epitome of selfishness to cave — selfish and cruel and wrong.

So disappointingly wrong.

Her feet still wouldn't move, rooted as they were by her intense desire to feel the warmth of his body against hers.

"Bask in it," she eventually replied after a prolonged period of silence.

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stunning set by Lady <3