Henri had thrown her arms up on instinct to catch her fall, and now she found herself tangled up with this man she had been trying to say goodbye to, and — oh, no. Before she could process anything else she heard the sound of fabric ripping. Her train! Her gown was going to be ruined. Her beautiful coming out ball gown, the only thing about tonight that she had really enjoyed, and it was ruined.
Henrietta felt tears welling in her eyes, but she couldn't cry. Not in the middle of a ballroom, when everyone was supposed to be looking at her (only no one was — no one cared about her, as evidenced by the fact that some man had just walked on her hem without even noticing it). Not when she was very nearly being held by a man whose name she didn't even know. She needed to get out of here, to see what could be done about her hem and maybe to just sit and cry on her own for ten minutes or so. There was no need to stand on pretense at this point and pretend the ball was going well. It was a miserable failure, and no one would begrudge her slipping away for a few minutes. In fact, perhaps they wouldn't even notice!
She pushed back on the gentleman's arms until she was in a standing position, and would have turned to go except — except the primroses, the primroses that she hated, that she hadn't wanted to wear on her wrist at all and which she had never, ever expressed any interest in despite what everyone was certain to think from all of these decorations — the primrose corsage was caught on his cufflink. With a noise of exasperation, Henrietta began clawing at her wrist, trying to get the thing off. She didn't want it, and she had never wanted it, and although she knew vaguely that it was not this man's fault that she was so utterly forgettable at her own debut she wanted nothing more at the moment than to hurl it against his chest and storm out of the ballroom, never to be seen again. At a table nearby, one of the primrose bouquets burst into flames — followed by three others, and then two more, and then it was every table in the ballroom whose centerpieces were going off like fireworks, spewing angry sparks and little puffs of smoke. Henri failed to notice, fighting as she was to get the corsage pin off of her wrist and mangling the flowers in the process.
Rune made this! <3
Henrietta felt tears welling in her eyes, but she couldn't cry. Not in the middle of a ballroom, when everyone was supposed to be looking at her (only no one was — no one cared about her, as evidenced by the fact that some man had just walked on her hem without even noticing it). Not when she was very nearly being held by a man whose name she didn't even know. She needed to get out of here, to see what could be done about her hem and maybe to just sit and cry on her own for ten minutes or so. There was no need to stand on pretense at this point and pretend the ball was going well. It was a miserable failure, and no one would begrudge her slipping away for a few minutes. In fact, perhaps they wouldn't even notice!
She pushed back on the gentleman's arms until she was in a standing position, and would have turned to go except — except the primroses, the primroses that she hated, that she hadn't wanted to wear on her wrist at all and which she had never, ever expressed any interest in despite what everyone was certain to think from all of these decorations — the primrose corsage was caught on his cufflink. With a noise of exasperation, Henrietta began clawing at her wrist, trying to get the thing off. She didn't want it, and she had never wanted it, and although she knew vaguely that it was not this man's fault that she was so utterly forgettable at her own debut she wanted nothing more at the moment than to hurl it against his chest and storm out of the ballroom, never to be seen again. At a table nearby, one of the primrose bouquets burst into flames — followed by three others, and then two more, and then it was every table in the ballroom whose centerpieces were going off like fireworks, spewing angry sparks and little puffs of smoke. Henri failed to notice, fighting as she was to get the corsage pin off of her wrist and mangling the flowers in the process.