Millie could hardly keep the mirth from her face as she watched him, watched his hands at work. Those were hands that could, she knew though rarely had seen in person, could handle magical creatures both big and small. Tonight, she could deign to be a creature for him if such a pretense might help. Her arms had no fur nor feathers, her fingers held no hidden claws, but Ben's deft fingers worked just as easily to fasten the ribbon about her wrist. She might have appraised it with a more guarded admiration than he did, when his lips touched her skin for the second time that night, the young witch let out a giggle.
A real giggle, soft and capricious, like it was Millie's turn at making her rounds at the ball already.
He was too charming tonight, on far more than his best behavior. Ben was giving a performance, she realized, and the little jolt it sent inside her was enough to dissuade her fingers from flying north. With so many people around, with eyes watching, it felt unusual. Unnatural, even, for the pair who had to hide their affections for so long. Here, Millie could return them openly, if only a bit disguised, so long as she played a part in return. A lie, if she thought about it too hard, and those did not come very easily to her. Yet the giggle had come easily enough a moment ago, and unbidden, making the young witch certain she was at least capable.
"Perhaps an emerald, Mr. Hunter, let's not get too ahead of ourselves," she returned, while her free hand gently swayed a clutch of her cashmere skirts toward his eye. Despite her own doubts, Millie did seem to still be able to play pretend, as if she was a far younger witch than sixteen. Perhaps it was not all that much pretend any longer, though it still did not feel entirely like herself. Her eyes fell to somewhere near his collar, glancing beyond his stately shoulders to glance at others in the hall.
A dance.
A real dance.
With Benedict!
In...public.
That no one was looking at them was little salve to the fears that knitted themselves a bridge between her brows again. Rumors whispered again in Millie's ears, words that she might have repeated about someone else but held her name, and his, on their ghostly tongue. Those had died down soon enough with the passage of time, only lingering still with her. She tipped an ear toward the music, hoping to rid her thoughts of them, gazing back up at Benedict's face to fill her vision with him alone.
"I think so," Millie said in her own voice once more. She nodded, a bit more confident now, taking the step that would place her next to him. Letting her arm rest in the crook of his elbow, the young witch couldn't ignore the knot growing at the base of her throat. Whether nerves, or excitement, she couldn't tell. Her skin bridled with anticipation, laying gently next to the fabric of his formal costume, and Millie forced herself to breathe.
Then she nodded, even yet more confident. Determined, at the very least, knowing that this was something she had wanted —even dreamt of— for months now. Perhaps Millie had wanted it ever since she was sitting across from Ben in the library, a year ago, listening to him regale her of the night's procession, the dazzling pomp and circumstance, and imagining herself in those idyllic scenes as well.
Now, as she stepped forward with him to join others on the dance floor, that moment had finally arrived. Millie had expected her heart to soar, and all she could find within herself was the urge not to trip.
A real giggle, soft and capricious, like it was Millie's turn at making her rounds at the ball already.
He was too charming tonight, on far more than his best behavior. Ben was giving a performance, she realized, and the little jolt it sent inside her was enough to dissuade her fingers from flying north. With so many people around, with eyes watching, it felt unusual. Unnatural, even, for the pair who had to hide their affections for so long. Here, Millie could return them openly, if only a bit disguised, so long as she played a part in return. A lie, if she thought about it too hard, and those did not come very easily to her. Yet the giggle had come easily enough a moment ago, and unbidden, making the young witch certain she was at least capable.
"Perhaps an emerald, Mr. Hunter, let's not get too ahead of ourselves," she returned, while her free hand gently swayed a clutch of her cashmere skirts toward his eye. Despite her own doubts, Millie did seem to still be able to play pretend, as if she was a far younger witch than sixteen. Perhaps it was not all that much pretend any longer, though it still did not feel entirely like herself. Her eyes fell to somewhere near his collar, glancing beyond his stately shoulders to glance at others in the hall.
A dance.
A real dance.
With Benedict!
In...public.
That no one was looking at them was little salve to the fears that knitted themselves a bridge between her brows again. Rumors whispered again in Millie's ears, words that she might have repeated about someone else but held her name, and his, on their ghostly tongue. Those had died down soon enough with the passage of time, only lingering still with her. She tipped an ear toward the music, hoping to rid her thoughts of them, gazing back up at Benedict's face to fill her vision with him alone.
"I think so," Millie said in her own voice once more. She nodded, a bit more confident now, taking the step that would place her next to him. Letting her arm rest in the crook of his elbow, the young witch couldn't ignore the knot growing at the base of her throat. Whether nerves, or excitement, she couldn't tell. Her skin bridled with anticipation, laying gently next to the fabric of his formal costume, and Millie forced herself to breathe.
Then she nodded, even yet more confident. Determined, at the very least, knowing that this was something she had wanted —even dreamt of— for months now. Perhaps Millie had wanted it ever since she was sitting across from Ben in the library, a year ago, listening to him regale her of the night's procession, the dazzling pomp and circumstance, and imagining herself in those idyllic scenes as well.
Now, as she stepped forward with him to join others on the dance floor, that moment had finally arrived. Millie had expected her heart to soar, and all she could find within herself was the urge not to trip.
![[Image: uHwnE8q.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/V68t8zfV/uHwnE8q.png)