A Night to Remember

[fatchicken 22]

Hey guys, like so many of us I enjoy writing from time to time and wanted to get some opinions! I'll start off with a short 'prologue' so to speak. Criticism welcome 

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Prologue: An Evening in the Glades

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If anyone could see the self-proclaimed Machiavellian now they could be forgiven for thinking he was a different man entirely. It was not that his clothes, his voice or even his visage had changed. Rather, it was the miasmic  silence that hung around him. No smile decorated those weathered ruby lips. No embers burned in those eyes. No flattery rolled off that silvered tongue. Instead he sat, legs crossed, at the crest of the grass mound he had claimed, with both hands holding a large green bottle. He turned the vintage red as he mused.

Phantoms of a time long passed crept through the perpetual din of the warlock’s mind whilst he meditated. Memories and scenes, none of them all too extraordinary, of a girl with deep red hair and eyes like bottomless ice. Her skin was pale and porcelain, as if someone had shaped her portrait from marble. Like an untamed ocean those moments churned; some rising to the front of his mind like great waves, only to later crash down and be overtaken by another. Some, like the tide, creeping in and fading out just as slowly as they had come.

Joseph, plagued by recollections that failed to heed continuity and instead fought to claim a pedestal over his thousand other thoughts, remained expressionless. It was a stern truth that over his many years the warlock’s heart, though not stone, had lost its stature amongst the other parts of Joseph’s being. Fondness, laughter, longing and loss all stirred within the man: But not a single emotion surged high enough to reach his eyes or mouth. Indeed, years of foul magic and deceit had caused the warlock to become something more of a puppet than a soul. Though no master pulled his strings, Joseph had trained his character to become an extension of his will – A tool for very specific purposes.

But that still did not completely shield him from the pang of tragedy. Thirty years had passed since he first met that fateful woman – And though they had known each other only for five – Each year he found himself drawn to this spot, pulled along by the rising echoes of a time when he was a different man entirely.  A pop filled the empty - but far from lifeless - forest as Joseph uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. He set down the first one in front of his legs, and cradled the other in a coil of artful fingers. He did not drink yet, closing his eyes from the world instead. Bats screeched, Plaguehounds snarled and the dead shambled restlessly all about him: The twisted, ethereal ricochets of a once proud kingdom that had eons ago been claimed by the unholy. Though he heard them all, not a single noise disturbed the warlock’s mournful meditation. He called a memory to the front of his mind then: The evening he had chosen to remember above any other, year after year…

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Chapter 1: A Sight for Sore Eyes

"Joseph in a tuxedo… My, I thought I’d never live to see the day.” A woman’s words reached up and above the busy din of the theatre, until the silken tones of that pleasing drawl nestled in the young man’s ears. He whirled then, driven towards her general direction. Two black coattails caught the wind, affording Joseph a more graceful appearance than his character could ever hope to summon. His chestnut hair had been slicked back behind his hears, becoming looser at the neck. Meanwhile he was dressed - as his partner had pointed out - in a pitch-black tuxedo embellished with a set of exaggerated cuffs, lapels and coattails wrapped around a frilled white shirt that opened just below the neck to expose a portion of his olive-brushed collarbones. It was, as Emilia had insisted, up-to scratch with all the nobility of Lordaeron that Joseph was trying so hard to imitate. He certainly looked the part, sweeping a set of smaragdine eyes over the crowd of well-to-dos in search of his partner.

Which was not hard at all. For in a sea of black, brown and blonde Emilia boasted a scarlet-tinted mane and cool blue eyes that flashed whenever they caught the light. Joseph became suddenly aware then how even a tropical sunset could not hold a candle to her splendour. Her well-curled tresses spoke of a warmth more inviting than the glow of the evening sun. Her dress and elbow-length gloves, silken and cobalt, framed a young and slender form in graceful waves that would make the ocean green with envy. At last, beneath it all, her unblemished skin contrasted all the vibrant colours with a milky softness: finer than any exotic sands. Joseph felt his blood turn warm and his throat dry up. He must have been gawking too.

“Were all those lessons for naught?” She teased, taking a set of slender fingers and gently tilting his chin up. “All it takes is a pretty woman and you’re standing in a stupor.” Joseph regretfully noted the sudden heat in his cheeks, which had turned crimson in their best imitation of her painted nails. He mustered what composure he could.
“Pretty would be an understatement.” He smiled then, taking one hand across his chest whilst he bowed low and with convincing fluidity. Emilia always kept him on his toes: He loved that about her.
“Prit-tee.” She scolded, pointing out the softness to his t’s. She even added a roll of the eyes for good measure. One might have taken offense, were it not for the gentle smile she wore. “Your bow has come along nicely though.” Joseph fought to suppress a grin. Small as it might have been, he always cherished any praise.
“Pri-tee.” He repeated.
“Good.” Emilia’s lips opened for a moment, though she bit her tongue as she saw the tanned boy offer a bent arm for her to take.
“Lady Fairwell.” He announced expectantly, suddenly aware of the lump still in his throat.
“So you aren’t a complete boor…” More playful jabs from his partner– Not that he minded – For the sweet cadence of her voice removed any and all sting from her words. Where Joseph was a man of simple beginnings, Emilia had been born with several silver spoons in her mouth. As a result, each word crept from her tongue with a learned eloquence that could make even the purest of words drip with lascivious undertones. It was this difference in their worlds that made the two compliment one another perfectly. Her pale skin gleamed alongside his, and the sharp knowing in her eyes clashed with Joseph’s own innocence-softened orbs. They moved then up a set of grand stairs made of dark, varnished wood and crowned with sanguine carpet.

“What did your parents think about me?” He inquired a little too quickly, evidently invested in the answer.
“Clearly…” She began, keeping her eyes forwards and head lifted as any elegant woman should. “They fell for it. My dad wouldn’t have spent all his coin on these tickets if I’d told him I was bringing a Hillsbrad farmer.” Emilia must have noticed the lack of tact in her words for she added a quiet apology, finally looking his way. But Joseph only smiled, as he so often did.
“No need. I’m not exactly top-shelf material.” This time he was the one gazing ahead, watching their step.
“Don’t say that!” She batted at his arm playfully. “You have the makings of a great gentleman – If you do as I say. Which reminds me, you’d do well not to drown yourself in cologne. It is something that should be discovered not necessarily noticed.”
“I—“ Joseph found himself awash with embarrassment for the second time this evening. Emilia always could disarm him, he simply hadn’t her wealth of experience in the art of all things fine. “Will do.” Was all he could muster,  for the cotton in his throat had returned without warning. Though certainly her words had humbled him, in truth his hesitation was born from the sudden realisation that he could feel Emilia’s form wonderfully close to his own. The soft, warm touch of her fingers and the gentle sensation of her weight slightly placed against him consumed the better part of his attention.
“Left.” She commanded, tugging him once they’d reached the top of the stairs.
“Yes mistress.” Joseph jested, flashing two rows of pearlescent teeth. Had you caught the man but a month ago, his smile wouldn’t have been quite so magnificently white. Alas, it was all part of Emilia’s intricate transformation.
“Quite right.” The noblewoman lofted her head, proud as a peacock, indulging Joseph and joining the once-farmhand in his mischievous glee. Arm in arm she lead the boy through the maze of finery and to an opening in the wall. The entrance was barred by two heavy, blood-red curtains made from the likeness of velvet. Joseph pulled apart the drapery and allowed his partner to walk through first.

Due to this act of chivalry, it wasn’t until he followed Emilia that the room unfurled before him. The two stood on a wide, arching balcony three stories up. The terrace itself had three levels, each one with a quadruplet of seats. Not only that, but their particular booth happened to be positioned just near enough to the stage to see clearly, without being at too much of an angle. Joseph’s eyes moved quickly from the grand stage and around the room. Red and gold covered the theatre in an empyrean display of shameless wealth. All along the walls and balconies were carved gold embellishments that depicted various godly scenes. Chandeliers of the same golden cast lorded over those below, decorated with just enough rhinestone to gleam like stars. Behind them the ceiling itself had been masterfully painted to depict a clouded night sky, from which the astral lights shone. For the second time tonight, Joseph found his attention stolen not by the opulence of the evening, but rather the appealing sight of his company. She stood now at the end of the balcony, just ahead of the outermost seats, with both hands upon the barrier. As a result her spine was arched and waist pushed backwards with a pair of slender hips outlined beautifully by the deep blue waves of her dress. He swallowed the knot in his throat. 

“Oh gods, don’t start gawking again.” She called out, still gazing down over the floor below. Joseph smiled sheepishly and made his way over to the ledge.
“I don’t think that’s possible.” He replied, eyes wandering with hers.
“You’re supposed to be nobility. You should be used to rooms like this.” She turned towards him then, offering a sweet ruby smile to dull the edge of her chiding. Joseph was silently glad she hadn’t deciphered the true subject of his awe.
“I should, aye –.” He began
“I should, yes. Or indeed if you’re feeling adventurous.” She interjected. Joseph coughed into a balled fist and continued.
“I should, yes. But whilst there’s no one else on this terrace… I thought I could let it slip for a moment. I’ve never seen anything like this, it’s…” His voice trailed off then, unable to put to words the grandeur that seeped from every corner of the room. “Thank you.” He settled on instead. Until now, Joseph hadn’t leant much thought to just how well-off Emilia might be. Certainly, he knew she was nobility, but to have the front row of a booth reserved for just the two of them must have cost an arm and a leg – Even amongst the well-off. As he contemplated, it took him a moment to notice the smile radiating at his side.  He turned to face Emilia then, who blessed the young gentleman with a genuine expression that was seldom seen by her disciplined demeanour. He made sure to cherish it.
“You’re welcome.” She finally responded, turning back to the chairs and claiming her seat. Joseph followed.
“What’s this about, then?” He asked, sweeping his coattails beneath him as he joined Emilia.
“Romulo and Juilianne.” The red-haired woman announced, looking down at the crowds below.
“Which is…?” Joseph continued. Emilia turned to him then, her visage a mixture of stupefaction and disdain. One curled brow bored into Joseph – He flinched.

“A classic known in near every corner of the Human Kingdoms.” Her eyes ran up and down the boy then, as if reconsidering her opinion of him entirely. Eventually her stern scowl cracked, giving way to a delightfully sweet yet short laugh. Joseph found himself wishing it had lasted a little longer; Emilia shook her head and looked away. “We have a lot to teach you yet. Some literature would help your speech too – Iron out those last few Hillsbrad quirks.” A dimming of the lights, no doubt through some magic influence, beckoned the two into silence. Joseph’s attention lingered on Emilia for a moment, before turning to the highlighted stage. A figure stepped into the limelight, draped in black.
“Ladies and gentleman!” His voice projected over the hushed crowds, reaching even the furthest of corners. “Allow me to introduce you to this evening’s presentation…”

 

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Edited July 31, 2017 by fatchicken

[Romeo 320]

Fascinating read. Neatly separated with paragaphs to avoid confusion, good text, nice synonyms and undead combinate something that makes me wet. Liked!

 

haha nvm i cant like more than i've already done today

Edited July 26, 2017 by Romeo

[fatchicken 22]

Added another chapter because it was sitting in word anyways. 

Edit: Forgot to add, thanks for the praise Romeo <3

Edited July 31, 2017 by fatchicken