IP: 82.19.140.112
Posted on October 12, 2013 at 02:14:36 AM by m o r g a n a
“Sure you want to waste your time dancing with your sister?” Morgana asked her brother, with a teasing smile, as their steps guided them through the other couples. Mordred glared playfully back, pushing her away from him in an elaborate twirl that made some of the people around them stop and stare as Morgana’s laugh rang out through the hall. “Seriously though,” she pressed, as their hands reconnected, pale white skin pressing against pale white skin, “you’re young, you’re handsome, and I can point to at least four beautiful girls who haven’t stopped staring at you for at least half an hour.” She was gratified to see the corner of his mouth curl upwards in a smile, as his blue eyes flicked off into the crowd, searching, she assumed, for the girls in question. She had seen girls leaving his rooms in the early hours of the morning before, so she knew he was interested. Morgana just assumed he was a little shy. “None of them are as beautiful as you, sister,” the baron returned, his smiled broadening into a grin. “Get away with you,” she scolded, hitting him in the arm with a balled up fist, “go and try your flattery on someone who actually wants it.” Mordred arched an dark sculptured eyebrow at her, but as the music came to a temporary halt, he released her hand and presented her with a mocking bow. It was her turn to glare. She watched him move his way back through the crowd, and was unsurprised when she observed a dark haired girl approach him and slip her arm through his. The crowd closed around Morgana slowly, until she lost sight of her sibling entirely. A man holding a tray of drinks walked slowly past her, and she reached out to lift one of the glasses free of the others, grasping it tightly between long fingers, the nails painted to match her dress. Kraar was perched somewhere above her, perched on one of the flagpoles from which hung the richly woven banners that shifted and moved as couples danced quickly past them. It was refreshing, being at a party without having to support a raven upon her shoulder. She loved that she could see for herself, it was freeing, and Morgana valued freedom. The sudden assault of grasping hands about her middle triggered a sound of protest, her body jolting in surprise. The glass slipped from between her fingers and fell to the floor with a smash, the sound of ticking glass drowned out by the chatter and music. His breath tickled against her ear when he spoke, and it made her freeze. She knew that voice. Furious, Morgana tried to wrench herself free of his grip, and was frustrated to find that she could not. His arms were strong, and the dancing crowd moved around them, sweeping them up in their wake like a fast-flowing river. The only way to extract herself properly would have involved stopping completely, but then the couple behind them would collide with their backs and create a scene. Morgana has no intention of spoiling her nephew’s party. She could handle a pirate. “I’d make some quip about you learning to keep your hands to yourself,” Morgana hissed at him through clenched teeth as the dance finally allowed her to spin away from him towards the centre of the circle they had been absorbed in. “But since it seems we are dancing, and it follows I can do what I like with you afterwards...” Her eyes flashed, as she was forced back towards him, daring him to even think about tightening his grip upon her, “why don’t I just have them taken off you. There are plenty of guards with nice sharp swords around. Princess, pirate...” Morgana grinned, “no contest, mate.”  |
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