Never Have I Ever

[Ever]

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.

[Ever]

Breath plumed out before her, ghostly wisps ever intangible. Yet they were seen. Easier to believe in something visible.

Easier enough to remember that you were alive in those final moments.

Sitting up on elbows, a grimace as flesh seemed to peel itself from the floor. Wet and unwilling to relent.

She was no victim or prisoner of the floor tonight.

No. Up to her feet, swaying with nervous energy. Running like electirc currents through her veins.

Pay for your crimes they said, but this was no retribution. Where was the repent?

Slender fingers moved along her face. Learning everything again as if finding it brand new.

Perhaps waiting for a subtle change to be found. A wrinkle perhaps.

No those wrinkles remained with time, and Ever knew nothing of age.

Gaze lifted. All quiet. Quiet as Death. As the tomb.

More freedom then a coffin, she spread out her arms and rolled back her shoulders.

Freedom to revel in, lines had been drawn.

This was her time.

They could barter and bribe all they wished and wanted for. Ever was free.

A puddle stained the floor of the ancient baths she found herself in.

Disrobing, submerging to the heated warmth the water would offer.

It was a sanctuary but her eyes held far more of a haven.

Dark and Deep.

Here it was safe.

Eyes went heavy-litted and closed. She drifted on the feather light weight of dreams like a bird. Soaring far away from the carnage and violence she knew waited just outside those walls.

Only another day but it was lonely and cold outside. A dreary disaster.

Something unwilling to be faced. For now she wanted to be safe.

It was not meant.

Embers and smoke surrounded.

Rome was burning.

Quickly she ran away, tousled and wild eyed with clothes just as unsettled.

Ever would not burn. Not with them. Not today.

[Ever]

Cold Fog. Something of it put her at peace and kept her distracted from the discomfort stirring all around her.

The fresh linens gathered, before snapped out and over the bed being made. Queen quarters.

"Maiden."

Whisper stirred her flesh, crept at her spine. Cautious and unsettled she kept to her duties as the Queen's handmaiden.

Silent. It was better this way.

Hips were pulled back against King's own. She knew every intention of his in that passing moment.

"A Queen's maiden should honor her King."
"I plead for M'lords forgiveness... I cannot break this vow."

Wispy and thick as London Fog the fragile emotion in her tone. Shivering against his form.

There was no desire in the night.

Her name became her salvation, called out by another hand servant. Disgusted she was thrust aside and on the bed by the frustrated King.

Nothing would be said.

No emotion shown save for the shake of her hands as the bed linens were smoothed.

Barren wombs of Queens were not to be replaced by the fertile wombs of maidens in waiting.

Shakily. Body caught in a tremble.

The fear of lost control.

Widening eyes as the bells from the Tower struck their warning cry. Breaking silence.

"No."

Breathed out to save from screaming. Her hands seized her skirt and she ran down the halls and out to the courtyard to where a hungry crowd already gathered.

They wanted blood.

Thirsted for it. Craved it more then cake.

Her hands flew to her neck even as the Queen's head was severed.

Ever would... could not stop shaking.

A pause of an imposing figure of a man at her side. Voice gruff. Used as a mouth piece for one that was the King and yet not.

"Remember Maiden if not for what you are. That would you be that had her place."

Heads would roll in those passing days and yet hers remained placidly upon her shoulders.

These days were passing swift.

[Ever]

"Mary, Mary. Quite Contrary... how does your garden grow?"

He had asked her if she had wings. Show them to me he had asked and she had looked away. Solemn faced and humble as she stood in the center of the church.

"They will call you Jezebel. They will call you Belladonna. Perhaps they will call you Salome. Remember Ever."
"They will call me what they will but they will never know me."

A whisper. The delicate whispers of cloth the white cloth upon her flesh as she descended to kneel one knee after the other.

There was no offering of ignorance to the one that spoke to her. Her eyes would know the armor well. The blazing crest of a blood red cross.

In silence her lips would move. Prayer.

Haven dark were those eyes, holding a solemn purity that could not be touched or owned.

"You realize outside they die, outside they burn in your place... and there is not one thing you can do. Never. You can only ... watch."

Head bowed. Lips moving faster as lashes crushed the vulnerable dark of her eyes.

Silent save for the tears that would fall on the fourth day... and those tears seemed endless. Ever lasting.

[Ever]

Feelings. Touch. Emotion.

All of it had become sacred to Ever. Each moment something significant and important. She would learn from it all. Every time, every step, every choice made had significance to her. She was not one meant for simple whims and stands of the lonely nights.

"Stay still, do not move or I won't get your image right."
"As long as you are not ensnaring my soul in paint... I will remain still."

Her voice was not humored despite her words. Toes curling to the stool. Each and every muscle felt sore. Tight from the hours spent kept in the same spot. Motionless.

Ghost riot curls had found an intimate downpour to her waist, cream and pearl brushed flesh glistened in the light of a falling sun. It was becoming so dark.

Yet she would remain still.

"There now we shall leave the oil to dry."

His words were hushed and warm. Far more intimate then a painter's voice should be in direction to his study, his muse.

There would be passion ever in creativity but this was not a choice of her passion.

Ever's dark eyes lifted as the painter came before her. Kneeling before her where she remained, eternal beauty of glistening lines forever captured in oil.

"Let me worship you, my little Muse."
"I am not meant for this worship."

Words tired in claim. Unflinching when his touch found a pattern of claim at her face. He moved toward her seeking a kiss. Seeking more.

The sun was falling and the darkness claiming.

She stirred.

Like clockwork. Called and claimed by that hour.

A spark in the darkness ever she would be.

Not one for apologies there was a sorrow in her smile as she turned away from the offered promise of kiss and the intimate comforts of the flesh.

Ever wished for something more.

Huddling in her shawl as she found her way out the door when the oil to her captured visage had just begun to dry...

[Ever]

Garment flowed around her as an angel's whisper.Gentle wisps of material.

Captive.

She was captive.

The beauty of fabric in its shimmering spill at her pale skin marred by the savage.

Shackles.

"I could free you from this. You are meant to be free."

Her sadness was infinite.

Constant as her head bowed.

"I chose this."

His laugh was warm against her skin. Painting lines of corruption that left her to shiver. Trembling in the power of his sway.

"I keep you alive because I wish it."
"I did not ask for this."
"But what do you ask for then."
"Let me live..."
"Oh but I do..."

Lashes fell, the tears spilled hot and free as the dull clang of shackles in the sand hit her senses.

Free but all for a price.

Her life for another.

Wrists rubbed and she looked to the horizon. The sun would rise again.

[Ever]

"Oh honey, it's just whiskey and blues. Nothing wrong with that. C'mon honey pie the night is young and we have forever."

Haven dark eyes flickered with the last words that fell from the young redhead's lips. Ruby didn't have a lick of knowledge or sense.

Forever.

And Ever.

There was far much of a constant.

A shake of head at the little flapper as she breathed out a huff of breath.

A breath of frustration that sent the forelock of cream to shudder. Unmovable.

Unstoppable.

The whiskey burned her tongue when that whisper came to her ear and she threw the cards down.

Full Suit of Spades.

The black velvet sigil of Trouble.

So this will be the next to take your place... I didn't think Red was your color

No. Surely not. Red stood out too much against the pale cream and ghost riot.

Red. Black and White.

She was far from being the gory zebra queen.

A gnawing at the end of the cigar and she breathed out O's of smoke.

Who are you she wanted to ask herself.

Like the Caterpillar having a sweet conversation with Alice.

Who are you...

Ever.

Ever. Ever.

She couldn't even wince anymore when she heard the pained scream from Ruby.

The anguished sound of horror when the lovely little dancer slipped from the stage mid charleston.

Ruby's neck was twisted at a horrid angle.

Even the arm of a clock couldn't hit that thirteenth hour at such an angle.

Ever had lost the taste for the game.

Lost the taste for the cigar.

Lost the flavor for life as it came more and more apparent to her...

It was becoming so much easier.

Welcome to the Roaring 20's...

Tonight she was Ethereal and Spiritual.

Savage and Chaotic

Just A Ghost Lion waiting to Roar.

[Ever]

A druidess against a moon lit backdrop.

Gleam of wet lines.

The drip of water as crystals in star canvas of the night.

With them all she stood.

The Apparition against the Dark.

There eyes were all centered on the focal point of the altar.

Ever would not feel a thing.

Would not feel remorse as she stepped forward.

So she would be their sacrifice.

The stone was not cold when she was rested across it.

Precious white lamb.

Instead so warm.

Haven dark eyes closed in the acceptance.

Finally it all would end.

He would not stop it this time.

The air hummed with energy.

The blade she knew in its arch for final destination.

The blow that never came.

Taken from the altar.

A whisper in her ear as the screams of another surrounded her.

Her place taken again.

"You see... I told you... I'd never let it happen."

No tears.

No bittersweet melancholy.

Instead she drifted from the tribal wild...

only a passing moment in time.