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."
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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beautiful set by lady