![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
shards-of-alice.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
estdeus_innobisSaturday, October 31st
Evening
The Whitechapel Inn
Day fades away, gone and forgotten, and all the little, smaller lights shine bright around town. I can see them dancing outside the upstairs window, fire flashing one by one by one until there are stars in the streets and in the skies all coming together at once. There's a big house far out, over the hills and past the darkness that's waiting at the edge of the candles, but I can't see that far away, even if I know it's there. A big house with happy music and smiling faces behind sparkling masks, pretty dresses twirling around the floor, dancing and laughing and...
And it's not fair. I'm better now. I told Valmont that I was better now, my head doesn't even hurt inside, but he doesn't believe me. I told Hermia that I'm a grown-up, almost fifteen, but she didn't believe me either. Even when I asked nice as could be, eyes big and with all the pleases I could say, I still can't go to the fancy dress party. Not fair at all.
I don't think Fiona is going, which makes me feel a little better. But she's a little girl, not a big girl like me.
Doors open and close downstairs, people leaving and heading out and talking together as they walk into the night. Most everybody is going, I know, with just me left here by myself. Mr. Adam is going to watch after me, Valmont said, and he's nice, but I'm still by myself, the only person that wants to go who isn't going. Mr. Adam probably doesn't like parties anyway.
I slide from my chair at the window, bare feet hitting the cold floor, and pad out into the hallway. At least my dress is pretty, new and clean and just for Sunday. It's not Sunday, I know that it's Saturday, but I want to wear it and no one is here to tell me I can't, so there's nothing bad there. The nice maskmaker in town gave me a mask of my own, too, all gold-colored and sparkles. It reminds me of Fiona when I put it on, like I should have wings on my back and fireflies dancing in my hair, which makes me smile a little before I remember that I was supposed to be upset.
Down the stairs, only half way, and I sit down with my back to one wall and my feet pressed against the other. Just. Not. Fair.
[Open to Gaueko]
[CLOSED]
Evening
The Whitechapel Inn
Day fades away, gone and forgotten, and all the little, smaller lights shine bright around town. I can see them dancing outside the upstairs window, fire flashing one by one by one until there are stars in the streets and in the skies all coming together at once. There's a big house far out, over the hills and past the darkness that's waiting at the edge of the candles, but I can't see that far away, even if I know it's there. A big house with happy music and smiling faces behind sparkling masks, pretty dresses twirling around the floor, dancing and laughing and...
And it's not fair. I'm better now. I told Valmont that I was better now, my head doesn't even hurt inside, but he doesn't believe me. I told Hermia that I'm a grown-up, almost fifteen, but she didn't believe me either. Even when I asked nice as could be, eyes big and with all the pleases I could say, I still can't go to the fancy dress party. Not fair at all.
I don't think Fiona is going, which makes me feel a little better. But she's a little girl, not a big girl like me.
Doors open and close downstairs, people leaving and heading out and talking together as they walk into the night. Most everybody is going, I know, with just me left here by myself. Mr. Adam is going to watch after me, Valmont said, and he's nice, but I'm still by myself, the only person that wants to go who isn't going. Mr. Adam probably doesn't like parties anyway.
I slide from my chair at the window, bare feet hitting the cold floor, and pad out into the hallway. At least my dress is pretty, new and clean and just for Sunday. It's not Sunday, I know that it's Saturday, but I want to wear it and no one is here to tell me I can't, so there's nothing bad there. The nice maskmaker in town gave me a mask of my own, too, all gold-colored and sparkles. It reminds me of Fiona when I put it on, like I should have wings on my back and fireflies dancing in my hair, which makes me smile a little before I remember that I was supposed to be upset.
Down the stairs, only half way, and I sit down with my back to one wall and my feet pressed against the other. Just. Not. Fair.
[CLOSED]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}