Journia
3rd Level Blue Feather
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Now things get a little more interesting.
The Belair mansion is a large estate where numerous exclusive parties are held throughout the year. They range from wonderful galas, to the mot exclusive meetings of societies that specialize in the surreptitious and the skullduggerous. The Gargalene were one of the most exclusive. It was an apparent honor to be invited to this ball, Dante had informed Cana, and he implied with a glance at her eyes that for her the honor was even greater because she was being spared a demise to witness such a spectacle.
The limousine roled into the drive, and stopped. Dante opened the passenger side door, and took Cana gently by the hand, and led her out of the car. He was showing a depth of chivalry that was unusual to Cana to say the least, from what she knew of him thus far. She was quite certain this was all a trap. Nevertheless, she accompanied him into the estate, where light played about the silk curtained windows, and the shadows of dancers coupled themselves with the light.
The couple made their way to the dining room where they met the first of many men and women who shared Dante's, though they did so to a lesser degree than her unnaturally gracious captor.
The first man was at least sixty, his hair had gone white and was tied back in a ponytail. His eyes were sharp and vibrantly white, while his skin was cracked with age. It had a faint pinkish color, and it contrasted with blinding starkness to the color of his black suit. He smiled as he spotted Dante speaking with Cana, and made his way over.
“Dante, my good man how are you?” He said with a straining serpentine voice. Cana jumped and turned to face the man who spoke. “This is the young woman who you have been telling us all about?”
Cana raised her right brow and her lips curled into an almost disgusted expression. Dante had been talking about her? What has he been saying? What lies has he spread about her, or what truths has he spoken of, that she'd be reluctant to speak herself? The questions flew through her mind repeatedly in the few seconds that it took for the guest to quiet down, and for Dante to reply in a very cool manner.
“No, Herr Munchausen,” Dante said keeping his eyes dead set on the man's own. “This is my dearest,”
“Parvati Sonserathis.” Cana interrupted. Dante and Munchausen stared at the young woman who was just as surprised as they were. Where had that word come from? She hadn't heard that name before!
“What did you say?” Munchausen asked in a demanding fashion.
“Parvati Sonserathin.” She repeated, with more fluidity this time. “That's my name, don't use it to death!” She smiled and gave a brief thumbs up.
“Ah! Good!” Munchausen said with the same affective grace with which he had approached the couple. “I suspect I'll see you at the dinner as well Miss Sonserathin?” He said without a hint of flirtation in his voice.
“Of course,” she replied with a smile. At that, Munchausen nodded and made his way off into the crowd of dancers. When he had disappeared among the guests, Cana turned to Dante, and Dante turned to Cana in that same instant, they both wore expressions of offended amazement.
“You've been telling people about me?” Cana hissed.
“You know of Parvati Sonserathin?” Dante hissed back.
“I just said whatever came to mind, that was what came to mind!”
“I told no one about you! I told them about that other girl in my home.” The two of them began walking toward the main room.
“You mean another one of your victims...” Cana whispered.
“Call it what you wish.” Dante said without care.
Cana was silent. And it was only when the couple began dancing to the classical music that played in the ballroom, did she utter a single word while her head was nestled his shoulder and neck. “Kidnapper.”
Another guest spotted Dante as he entered the ballroom, and he spotted the young woman accompanying him. This man wasn't very tall, he was well built, and his skin was a light orange complexion, his hair was a dark brown and hung limply at the sides of his head. His eyes were large, and watery, and were hidden behind a pair of thick lensed glasses. He wore a black suit as well, keeping with the outfitted affair. He came alone with the intent of leaving alone, until he saw his niece, Cana Fadruthiya.
The Giggle Collector
Chapter Six
M.C. Laphar
Chapter Six
M.C. Laphar
The Belair mansion is a large estate where numerous exclusive parties are held throughout the year. They range from wonderful galas, to the mot exclusive meetings of societies that specialize in the surreptitious and the skullduggerous. The Gargalene were one of the most exclusive. It was an apparent honor to be invited to this ball, Dante had informed Cana, and he implied with a glance at her eyes that for her the honor was even greater because she was being spared a demise to witness such a spectacle.
The limousine roled into the drive, and stopped. Dante opened the passenger side door, and took Cana gently by the hand, and led her out of the car. He was showing a depth of chivalry that was unusual to Cana to say the least, from what she knew of him thus far. She was quite certain this was all a trap. Nevertheless, she accompanied him into the estate, where light played about the silk curtained windows, and the shadows of dancers coupled themselves with the light.
The couple made their way to the dining room where they met the first of many men and women who shared Dante's, though they did so to a lesser degree than her unnaturally gracious captor.
The first man was at least sixty, his hair had gone white and was tied back in a ponytail. His eyes were sharp and vibrantly white, while his skin was cracked with age. It had a faint pinkish color, and it contrasted with blinding starkness to the color of his black suit. He smiled as he spotted Dante speaking with Cana, and made his way over.
“Dante, my good man how are you?” He said with a straining serpentine voice. Cana jumped and turned to face the man who spoke. “This is the young woman who you have been telling us all about?”
Cana raised her right brow and her lips curled into an almost disgusted expression. Dante had been talking about her? What has he been saying? What lies has he spread about her, or what truths has he spoken of, that she'd be reluctant to speak herself? The questions flew through her mind repeatedly in the few seconds that it took for the guest to quiet down, and for Dante to reply in a very cool manner.
“No, Herr Munchausen,” Dante said keeping his eyes dead set on the man's own. “This is my dearest,”
“Parvati Sonserathis.” Cana interrupted. Dante and Munchausen stared at the young woman who was just as surprised as they were. Where had that word come from? She hadn't heard that name before!
“What did you say?” Munchausen asked in a demanding fashion.
“Parvati Sonserathin.” She repeated, with more fluidity this time. “That's my name, don't use it to death!” She smiled and gave a brief thumbs up.
“Ah! Good!” Munchausen said with the same affective grace with which he had approached the couple. “I suspect I'll see you at the dinner as well Miss Sonserathin?” He said without a hint of flirtation in his voice.
“Of course,” she replied with a smile. At that, Munchausen nodded and made his way off into the crowd of dancers. When he had disappeared among the guests, Cana turned to Dante, and Dante turned to Cana in that same instant, they both wore expressions of offended amazement.
“You've been telling people about me?” Cana hissed.
“You know of Parvati Sonserathin?” Dante hissed back.
“I just said whatever came to mind, that was what came to mind!”
“I told no one about you! I told them about that other girl in my home.” The two of them began walking toward the main room.
“You mean another one of your victims...” Cana whispered.
“Call it what you wish.” Dante said without care.
Cana was silent. And it was only when the couple began dancing to the classical music that played in the ballroom, did she utter a single word while her head was nestled his shoulder and neck. “Kidnapper.”
Another guest spotted Dante as he entered the ballroom, and he spotted the young woman accompanying him. This man wasn't very tall, he was well built, and his skin was a light orange complexion, his hair was a dark brown and hung limply at the sides of his head. His eyes were large, and watery, and were hidden behind a pair of thick lensed glasses. He wore a black suit as well, keeping with the outfitted affair. He came alone with the intent of leaving alone, until he saw his niece, Cana Fadruthiya.
