guilt is a cruel lover
No Dance: Conversation w/ Margo Hastingston ~ongoing~
After his interaction with Maisie, Corin was feeling more drained than he had anticipated. Presenting himself as a distinguished man of class and nobility despite holding none of the aforementioned embellishments was exhausting to say the least. The entire night had been exhausting despite Corin’s lack of actual female conversation, apart from one. However, he needed to speak to more women, to make himself known to more women.
After all, Corin’s estate was nearly finished in its construction, and soon he would need a lady, or a few it would seem, to grace the halls of the new Blackwood Manor.
The ceaseless chatter and laughter enveloped him, each encounter more draining than the last, as he made his way back against the wall Harrison had pulled him from. In the midst of the ballroom, he strategized his next move, contemplating the delicate balance of appearing engaged while yearning for a moment of solitude. The weight of social expectations pressed upon him, like an intricate dance of wits and appearances, and Corin fought the urge to leave the gathering all together.
He had wondered where Orpheus had gone off to. Surely, he was having a better night than Corin was, likely laughing and dancing amongst the clatter of it all. Orpheus was always so put together at events like these.
Corin, unlike Orpheus, was far from poised and perfect. In fact, Corin held little desire to appear that way, and if it were not a necessity, his appearance here in England at all would be very minimal.
Corin viewed each large-scale event as a giant chess board. A world map filled with people of many varieties, all pining after the same thing, royalty. It was true in chess, and it seemed true in life, that every piece below the King seemed so ready to fall at his feet, as royalty were always seen as more important than the pawns that sacrificed themselves in the name of the royal family. In every land Corin had been to, he had seen men of great renown and intelligence give themselves to Kings of old and new, a pathetic display Corin refused to submit to.
Therefore, Corin moved frequently, never resting in one place for too long to prevent himself from committing himself and his loyalties to any King, or nobleman for that matter, ever again. Each interaction from Corin was carefully chosen, methodical, and strategic.
Corin did not move unless the board around him demanded a turn. Corin did not speak unless the people at his side deserved his voice. In this game of chess, Corin refused to be another piece sacrificed in service to another. He refused to be a pawn in anyone’s game.
Yet, part of him yearned for an encounter that transcended the scripted pleasantries, a moment of authenticity in a world governed by strategy. In this glamorous, exhausting ballroom, he was a strategist of both social graces and his own weary heart, seeking that elusive connection, even a fleeting one, amidst the splendid chaos.
Although despising romantic engagements, Corin had always enjoyed the spark of amiable connection that grew from these events. He had met some of his longest standing business partners, closest traveling companions, and best drinking buddies along the ‘chess board’. Perhaps England would provide the same.
Corin glanced around the ballroom slowly, his eyes scanning each individual before a figure suddenly appeared in front of him. Corin took a slow sip from his flask, glancing her over.
She was absolutely breathtaking.
So beautiful, in fact, Corin nearly choked on his tea. He had never seen someone so lovely in all his travels. From the furthest corners of Eastern Asia to the Southern-most-tip of Italy, no one had held his gaze the way she did.
A brief thought flashed across his mind…if this were a chess board, perhaps, just maybe, she would be the Queen he would happily sacrifice himself for.
Her beauty held a sort of encompassing allure. The kind that made you forget yourself, and your previous thoughts, and fall into her instead.
The type of beauty that was deadly.
As quickly as his mind had acknowledged her features, the guilt of his attraction began to seep in. Every ounce of his body recoiling as he recalled his past in flashes. A burning blend of past and present moment that set his skin on fire. A guilt that ran deeper than the scars that littered his body.
Corin’s mind was interrupted as the girl started speaking.
“Mr. Blackwood.” She spoke, her voice soft yet firm in her conviction, a striking contrast to itself and her features. Corin’s face, once filled with an intrigued attachment to her own features, now furrowed in confusion. She had known his name? Surely, if Corin had met a girl of such unworldly beauty before he would have remembered her.
“I must admit, my lord, the world has its mysteries and its wonders, and I have heard that your travels have unveiled some of the most captivating secrets of far-off lands. But I am certain nothing can come close to this little town of ours.” She spoke the faintest hint of flattery that nearly made Corin smile.
“I am no Lord.” Corin corrected, his face flat and emotionless. “And you are quite right that the allure of far-off-lands and their mysteries is undeniable…” Corin started, standing up straighter as he looked down and met her eyes. Eyes that held a sparkling connection…the one he had been looking for.
“However certain you may be, I am afraid England holds little to captivate me. At least, it did not use to…” As Corin spoke, he fought the smile that threatened to break his cool composure. Understanding his own feigned romantic interest in order to achieve his end goals, Corin prepped the words he spoke before each utterance left his lips.
A small woman, petite and fraile, had not only addressed him directly, but spoken with such conviction that Corin was nearly uncertain of his own response.
She held an aura of confidence and self-assured poise alongside her physical beauty that increased her presence tenfold.
Perhaps, Corin thought, she would make a perfect candidate.
“Forgive me, Miss, but it seems my reputation has proceeded me. Yet, I remain woefully ignorant of yours. Your name, my lady?” Corin asked, confused and intrigued by the girl that stood before him.
The first lady, since his arrival, that Corin had taken a true interest in.
mentioned:
Margo (@astxrism)
Orpheus
