The previous day, Azucena had an experience quite unlike any before. In part, it had reminded her of when one reads a book, and the author describes an image that is so truly beautiful, that for a second you teleport into the scene and witness it yourself; that kind of sweet moment that is supposed to be brief, but you suppose that if you play it in your mind again in again, you may be able to preserve it for a lifetime.
She could only hope for a lifetime with Harrison.
Around him, there were times that she had felt flushed, excited, adventurous, crestfallen. So many things, but yesterday had been a break through whatever barrier they had between them. They had been flying for so long and finally cracked the atmosphere, hit by the unknown feeling of outer space, all the more closer to the stars they once dreamed of.
Today was a new day, and it was early in the season, still, but some corner of her heart seemed to know a thing her mind could not accept. She had already fallen; over again, harder this time. But now, she did not hide, sinking into darkness, instead, she had let him catch her. And in his arms, she had felt so safe, safer than she had ever felt in the embrace of her father, or any man, at that.
How she wished she could just tell him; be his gold, her blonde hair like spools in his hands and he would be the wealthiest man alive.
She had faith that she would see him soon, for the new day was not set for anything of courtship, but instead more congenial gossip. It was Belle’s tea party, and Azucena was pleased to attend. Amidst all of the nonsense of romance, she had hardly found time to speak with her fellow girls. She imagined it would be refreshing, to join hands with soft, smooth palms, and admire the delicate features of her friends.
They were nothing like men. In the past days, she had spoken almost entirely to the boys of the ton. She had met Ilyas in the horse stables, all curls and mischief. She had invited into her home the fellow Spainyard, Prince Emmanuel, with graceful stature and the benevolence she wished the king shared. She had seen Harrison, obviously, on multiple days in one row. She was called by finch, and she had seen Lang at the Queen’s ball. He was much different from Orpheus, who had left on her a scar that she did not know if she could yet acknowledge. Nevertheless, she had been comforted by Cassian later, it did not matter. She was fine.
She was tired of their tough hands and flirtation. She had missed femininity; teacups and gloves with dresses. Especially during the season, her mother never pressured Azucena to keep friends, so it was something she did by her own account.
She arrived upon the scene mesmerizing as ever. Her hazel eyes seemed to gleam all the brighter with a green dress on. It was not emerald colored, though, no. It was something more like the colors of the forest; earthy, and humble. For the sake of girlhood, she had done a few braids in her hair, now that her servants most likely did not wish to. It was nothing too serious, but a few delicate pieces that emulated the ones she and her friends used to curate for each other in the estate gardens, laughing with mud on their feet.
It was that, only clearer. After many years, the house of Fleur provoked in her the same joy it had a decade ago.
She stood quietly, but her silhouette shone like daylight when another woman appeared in her line of sight. Without much time for a halt, she bumped into the girl, and Azucena was albeit a bit startled, but she calmed upon facing the woman.
The lady was different from the rest. She had dark skin, the color of tree bark, but her eyes were similar to her own. And she wore a lovely dress, with both some allure but also much enigma. Azucena wondered from what nation she might be visiting, most likely something African as she heard her accent apologizing.
Azucena laughed lightly hearing her apology. “Worry not, many times I have done the same,” she said, giving her a graceful look. As she listened, however, she realized the rest of her sentence. “You have just arrived?” Azucena asked curiously. “Where from?”
@Kristi
