It was a dizzy, lightheaded sensation. Elegant circles, intricate lines.

Steps in grace.

Well rehearsed.

Even the touch of courted palms, the swirl of dress at legs. Down to the last second all of it had been practiced and redefined. All eyes were watching.

Why was it that the Masquerade left the spirit of a man or a woman to be so bold.

Ever would wear the owl mask. Eternal wisdom accented by the avian crook of chin and quick move of dark haven eyes when a touch found its presence to the small of her back.

Ownership.

Behind the mask the corruption of serene features would hide.

"Why do you not dance, Ever?"
"Because I do not wish to be a Pawn."
"They would watch you."
"And tear me a part."

With their eyes. With their thoughts. Deadly and vicious whispers.

They were waiting. Watching.

"Why do you do this to me?"
"Because Ever, you are mine, and you were meant to dance. Tonight. They wait."
"Everyone's waiting but they do not know what they are waiting for."

Symbolism in elegance the victorian courtship of beauty on her tongue.

He was Corruption and yet she stayed the Spark in his visceral darkness.

No choice.

Little Ingenue had made a bargain, had made a trade.

Never hers to make, no that was for the family to decide now wasn't it?

Mockery kissed the cupid bow of mouth.

Rising to make a glistening descent. Ever would shine.

Palm out. Expecting.

The lines were drawn. A secret pleasure in a smile when she saw that she could trespass boundaries but he was stuck on the other side.

Her laughter rang out, clear as a bell.

On an empty dance floor she would sway and turn. Willow fragile those fingers in rising sway as if moved by a gentle breeze.

The Owl's mask unlaced and tossed to the floor.

Amongst a sea of hidden faces her visage was naked and exposed.

The first day.