- Joined
- Jan 30, 2012
- Location
- Vaucluse, SC
Elisa had already been self-contentious about the state she was in. Finding Ethan formally dressed at the dinner table only made it worse. The sight of him sent butterflies swirling in her stomach. It brought a blush to her cheeks as she slid into the chair at her end of the table. She hadn't expected to feel this way. It was like being sixteen again and at her first ball. She was supposed to be angry at him, but she couldn't dig up the will to be angry. Nervously she bushed at her hair back away from her face, feeling completely out of her element.
'Don't let it show,' she told herself, and lifted her chin a notch higher than usual as her eyes met his. The idle tapping of his fingers caught her attention, and Elisa purposefully set her her wrists on the table to make the iron shackles on her wrists clank nosily. The noise disrupted the tension, and then seemed to make it all the worse. To be entirely honest, she had no idea what to say, and so, said nothing.
The wait was painful, even with a delicate wine to sip. If dinner was ready, then it would be served shortly, wouldn't it? Of course, she was accustomed to her live at the Lady's home. Dinner being ready meant it was on the table waiting for you. She thought back to her younger years and smiled despite herself. Of course, the wait, how could she forget the wait? First the dinner bell, then the seating, then the drinks, and then an obligatory wait for the food to allow for pleasant conversation. She wondered absently how many courses there would be and glanced at her forks to count them. One fork for each course, start on the outside and work your way in. A brief memory of her sponsor flashed through her thoughts and she smiled. The Baroness had been a strict woman, but kind. Not like the Viscountess and her need to cause torment in those around her.
"You realize, I hope," she finally spoke when the silence became too heavy for her, "That eating with these things on is even worse than asking me to dinner and not giving me the opportunity to dress better than this?" She let her question hang on the air, enjoying a moment of watching him squirm before she shook her wrists at him. At length, she was utterly pleased to watch him stand on her request. It was a small thing, but it made her feel bold again, quelling the nervous jitters that threatened.
Despite his apparently dark mood, she smiled pleasantly up at him. Her wrists ached when he jerked them up, but she made no complaint as one shackle was unlocked, and then the other. Her skin had suffered more than she'd realized, the pail flush a vibrant, angry red. "Thank you," she crooned gently, simpering simply for the purpose of being annoying. With the weight gone, her world expanded. She had been right about this house being empty of lines, but she could hear distant echos of what had been and what wait outside. It fanned her bravado, even if she couldn't reach them. "That feels much better."
'Don't let it show,' she told herself, and lifted her chin a notch higher than usual as her eyes met his. The idle tapping of his fingers caught her attention, and Elisa purposefully set her her wrists on the table to make the iron shackles on her wrists clank nosily. The noise disrupted the tension, and then seemed to make it all the worse. To be entirely honest, she had no idea what to say, and so, said nothing.
The wait was painful, even with a delicate wine to sip. If dinner was ready, then it would be served shortly, wouldn't it? Of course, she was accustomed to her live at the Lady's home. Dinner being ready meant it was on the table waiting for you. She thought back to her younger years and smiled despite herself. Of course, the wait, how could she forget the wait? First the dinner bell, then the seating, then the drinks, and then an obligatory wait for the food to allow for pleasant conversation. She wondered absently how many courses there would be and glanced at her forks to count them. One fork for each course, start on the outside and work your way in. A brief memory of her sponsor flashed through her thoughts and she smiled. The Baroness had been a strict woman, but kind. Not like the Viscountess and her need to cause torment in those around her.
"You realize, I hope," she finally spoke when the silence became too heavy for her, "That eating with these things on is even worse than asking me to dinner and not giving me the opportunity to dress better than this?" She let her question hang on the air, enjoying a moment of watching him squirm before she shook her wrists at him. At length, she was utterly pleased to watch him stand on her request. It was a small thing, but it made her feel bold again, quelling the nervous jitters that threatened.
Despite his apparently dark mood, she smiled pleasantly up at him. Her wrists ached when he jerked them up, but she made no complaint as one shackle was unlocked, and then the other. Her skin had suffered more than she'd realized, the pail flush a vibrant, angry red. "Thank you," she crooned gently, simpering simply for the purpose of being annoying. With the weight gone, her world expanded. She had been right about this house being empty of lines, but she could hear distant echos of what had been and what wait outside. It fanned her bravado, even if she couldn't reach them. "That feels much better."