Thread: Secrets and Lies (Sync & Mali)

Yes, we could debate further. And my counter to your counter argument would be that if I had not so haphazardly placed that flute on the ledge, a singular move that could only end in a terrible demise, then that flute would still be alive and we would likely not be potentially facing the ire of our host over a rather stunning piece. She brought a slender gloved finger to her lip, her index to be exact, and pursed her lips. I suspect it was crystal. But she shrugged her shoulders, giving light to the fact that she really did not care for a champagne flute, whether it was real crystal or not. Thankfully, he obliged her in her request and came out of the shadows with a soft apology for his poor taste in manners. She could only smile and as he became well revealed to her, her eyebrows rose in a bit of surprise but there was also a certain sense of relief in her eyes. He had a very mesmerizing voice and thankfully for her, he did not posses any hint of repulsive male. No, in fact he was rather handsome, with a distinct European air about him. His speech was not European but he retained some of that likeness in his appearance from his ancestors. She smiled warmly, a genuine smile. A handsome man with a charming personality it seemed, one who could carry quite a rapport with her, like that of the demise of a silly champagne flute, and he was perfectly eligible to marry. He must be because there would be no way his wife would let a man that looked like him, be off on his merry little lonesome. Though she didnt like to think of her jealous side, if she was his wife and they attended this function together, there would be no way she would leave his side. Shed trust him, but it would be the conniving vultures that passed for high society women she didnt trust. Sometimes all it took was a flutter of eyelashes, a coquettish smile or even the faintest glimmer of such soft and supple skin of the wrist beneath gloves that could make a man rethink his marriage vows. Snapping herself back to the present, she nearly missed his name. He did sound familiar but being away from high society for four years, she wasnt accustomed to the gossip that had spread around in that time. She did however remember some slanderous mentions of him, the black sheep of his family in fact, a few years before she made her debut. She remembered thinking that he was a man of ruin, on his way down a plummeting ladder with no way back up to for fresh air. But now she was a ruined woman. One ruined man was one ruined womans treasure. Mr. Hawthorne, it is a pleasure. Elsa bowed a polite curtsy before meeting his gaze once more. My name is Elsa Strathmore, of the New England Strathmores. She laughed lightly, as if finding some humor in mimicking his way of introduction. Not that I find that in any means something to take pride in. She whispered. Though she shouldnt speak such things. After all she was not ashamed of being a Strathmore, though she was sure her parents were ashamed of having her for a daughter after what she did, but rather shameful of being stuck in the mold of high society. Furthermore, needing to remain in that mold for her own security. I remember hearing about you from my mothers weekly club meeting when I was fourteen or fifteen. You were infamous in their talks. She blushed and looked down, bringing her hands in front of her to clasp together once more. Ill admit, I didnt hold very kind thoughts toward you either. But Ive grown and have since learned never to judge a person merely on gossip. Its quite slandering, shameful even and petty, that being the mode which entertains women so while men remain cavalier about it, though are inclined to believe it as well, basing...certain judgments about it. She shuddered a little bit, her mind going to that last proposal before she came out here for fresh air. Such debasement!