Anandi takes a long glance at the open terrace. Outside, the snow begins to fall in slow, silent whorls of white. A few more steps out the door and she’d be free...
When her gaze returns to the festivities, there is a bay stallion looking at her. On first glance, he is nothing special, nothing at all like herself. She knows wings, and antlers, and bays. But the longer she looks the more there is to see. The inquisitive tilt of his head, the keen brightness of his eyes (careful not to look too deep there, she thinks. He looks back.), and the matching green gleam of his gemstones to match. But of all the suddenly many things there are to notice about him, her attention is caught by the smoothness of his skin. It gleams like fire in the lamplight of the great hall.
“Say something,” she almost demands. “Talk to me.” Anything would be better than standing here with a smile painted on her lips like a doll. Anything would be better than constantly dragging her eyes away from Apolonia and Aghavni, draped over each other like spring blossoms, or Marisol and Orestes and the velvet fire between them.
She was at the point where if he did not say something-- her reputation be damned-- she would scream.
When he finally speaks, it feels like her desire pulled the words from his lips. “Bored, miss?” Anandi exhales, something like a sigh, and for a moment her expression is unreadable. “Absolutely not,” she lies breezily, with the faintest roll of her eyes that says of course I am. “We’ve spent months preparing for this.” Party planning was one of the less touted, more complicated elements of being a member of the regime. She had thrown herself fully into it despite almost never understanding what she was doing or why. The entire concept of the festival-- fending off the darkness of the longest night, not sleeping less misfortune befall you, dressing a poor tree in silk ribbons and glass baubles-- made absolutely no sense to her.
Call it culture shock; she’d rather be celebrating out in the dark, cutting through black waters. But the people needed distraction and entertainment. She found their whims a bit charming and a bit annoying, not unlike children, but it was her duty now to please them, or at least try.
Her attention wafted away for just a moment, but it soon returns dutifully to the stallion with an apologetic flutter of the lashes. “Going somewhere, sir?” She quickly glances out the terrace, then back to him, with a precise raise of her brow that both suggests and commands (whichever he would rather see): It’s a bit warm in here, isn’t it? You’re going to step outside. You’re going to take me with you.
If she left alone, it could be seen as evading her duties. If she stepped outside with another, it could be seen as enjoying the festivities. Technically she was just using him to skirt what seemed to be her responsibility, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy his company.
@
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
