fandom_muses August topics: Shadows

[stolehispurse]

Neither of them moved in shadows. In their way, each of them was the centre of a circle of attention, unwavering, constant, flattering, as often as not - insincere. Each of them would be in his and her own crowd of torches and candlelight, among women in luxurious dresses, powdered, complicated hair (as hers), among men in silks and laces or velvets and furs (as his). Leading conversations that were sometimes interesting, occasionally entertaining, now and again useful or with goals, and more than enough empty, vapid, senseless.

The light of evening entertainments was one of subtle smell of empty lives and ruthless goals. Of power and seduction and carelessness.

And if their circles happened to be in the same room, the tiny duchess and the tall lover, they would always be aware of each other. Most often, they would not acknowledge it. Not in the light.

And yet not often could they really avoid meeting in the shadows, even if it was for barely minutes, hardly more than a greeting.

Rare, their being in the same country. Her husband made sure of it, in his senseless, hopeless, possessive mercilessness. Or mercy. But when they were, they ended up within sight of one another. Almost unavoidably.

And in shadows - right outside the bright-lit ballroom, or behind a column where eyes would either not seek, or not recognise them - they would meet.

The words spoken were always painful, even if they were kind. Words of impossibility that they both lived for still. Random reassurance that it was still so. Not that either of them doubted it. Could doubt it. It was impossible, that they still loved each other. And yet in the shadows, they both knew it was so.

If it was any other woman, meeting him in the shadows would be such a danger. Any husband knew that it was danger to his honour, even hers, even though if there was one woman who would not do it, it was her; and if there was one woman he would not press on, it was her. Grimani was always blind, even with his predator-sharp eyes.
Any other woman could be swayed, because no other woman truly knew what his heart spoke.
Any other woman, he would charm his way to swaying, as his heart spoke 'have her'. But her he could not have in the shadows.

Her, they both knew, he had to have just open in the sunlight. Nothing else would do. Nothing else would happen.

And so the words of sharing hurt every time.

Shadows were bad for both of them. And neither chose to stay away. For it was all they had.