Categories > Books > Meredith Gentry > Snapshots of Obsession
They are such bright colours, flowing and shimmering, moving constantly. They tease my eyes, tempt me to follow, burn me with their decadence. There is such a beauty here - a wonderful, strange splendour, reminding me that I don't belong. How could I ever belong in such a place? They hold such a ethereal grace that even I could never touch. I am too tainted, too different. I want to go, to run from the painful grandeur, but I fix my bare feet in place and make my eyes fierce. I would bear worse than this - for her. Only for her.
The dancing figures know I watch them, and they laugh, all prettiness and cruelty. Laughing at me in the shadows. It goads me, but I do not show it. I cannot be weak, not here. So I stay in my shadows and leave them to their light, watching still, baring my teeth at those who stare too long. I would wait forever - for her. Only for her.
I don't know how much time passes - this court has an art of snatching away hours like moments - but then the dancers still for a flicker of the eye. They move again, all synchronised and perfect in their intricate weave of steps, but I know. I saw the hesitation, the fear. I know who has finally arrived. Only then do I move from my shadows. I walk through the swirling courtiers, ignoring the hiss of delicate cloth against my skin and hiss of insults alike. It takes an eternity to walk across the ballroom. I would cross a distance a hundred-fold as wide - for her. Only for her.
It is a shock to me when the final exquisite pair whirl away, and there is no one between us. I stop when nothing else could have made me do so. Now, looking at her, I feel truly lost. She has none of their deceitful loveliness - hers is real, solid, touchable. Not just the illusion of goodness as the court offered it, but pure and unsullied. It makes her the jewel of this court, though they are loathed to admit it. And who am I, to look upon such a gem? I am the least worthy to serve such a Lady. But it is my task, and I would surrender it to no other. Not even before a battle do I feel this deep a fear as I do now. I have no courage left to go to her. But then, she sees me, and, oh, she smiles. Courage returns, like the spring after a too-long winter, and I go to her. I would walk on hot coals and through viper pits - for her. Only for her.
I am in arm's reach of her, and she holds out her hands in greeting. I take one in my fingers, dropping down to a knee and brushing my lips over her knuckles. My lips still tingle from touching her as I murmur, "My Lady," in greeting, my dark eyes downcast in respect - for her. Only for her.
I feel her free hand brush the edge of my ear, trailing lower to stroke under my jaw, her delicate fingers curling under my chin. Her gentle touch forces my head to tilt back, and my obedient eyes flash open to meet her tri-coloured gaze. I am spellbound by the love in her face, so open and giving. Nothing else matters, nothing else is real, but for that look on her face. "Hello, my dear Harkin," she murmurs back., her smile widening. She has never looked so stunning. I would give up everything - for her. Only for her.
The dancing figures know I watch them, and they laugh, all prettiness and cruelty. Laughing at me in the shadows. It goads me, but I do not show it. I cannot be weak, not here. So I stay in my shadows and leave them to their light, watching still, baring my teeth at those who stare too long. I would wait forever - for her. Only for her.
I don't know how much time passes - this court has an art of snatching away hours like moments - but then the dancers still for a flicker of the eye. They move again, all synchronised and perfect in their intricate weave of steps, but I know. I saw the hesitation, the fear. I know who has finally arrived. Only then do I move from my shadows. I walk through the swirling courtiers, ignoring the hiss of delicate cloth against my skin and hiss of insults alike. It takes an eternity to walk across the ballroom. I would cross a distance a hundred-fold as wide - for her. Only for her.
It is a shock to me when the final exquisite pair whirl away, and there is no one between us. I stop when nothing else could have made me do so. Now, looking at her, I feel truly lost. She has none of their deceitful loveliness - hers is real, solid, touchable. Not just the illusion of goodness as the court offered it, but pure and unsullied. It makes her the jewel of this court, though they are loathed to admit it. And who am I, to look upon such a gem? I am the least worthy to serve such a Lady. But it is my task, and I would surrender it to no other. Not even before a battle do I feel this deep a fear as I do now. I have no courage left to go to her. But then, she sees me, and, oh, she smiles. Courage returns, like the spring after a too-long winter, and I go to her. I would walk on hot coals and through viper pits - for her. Only for her.
I am in arm's reach of her, and she holds out her hands in greeting. I take one in my fingers, dropping down to a knee and brushing my lips over her knuckles. My lips still tingle from touching her as I murmur, "My Lady," in greeting, my dark eyes downcast in respect - for her. Only for her.
I feel her free hand brush the edge of my ear, trailing lower to stroke under my jaw, her delicate fingers curling under my chin. Her gentle touch forces my head to tilt back, and my obedient eyes flash open to meet her tri-coloured gaze. I am spellbound by the love in her face, so open and giving. Nothing else matters, nothing else is real, but for that look on her face. "Hello, my dear Harkin," she murmurs back., her smile widening. She has never looked so stunning. I would give up everything - for her. Only for her.
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