He had never been the type to think ahead in these types of situations–where else in anything he would plan personally for his own greed, he’d have backup plans set alphabetical from A to Z; despite his confidence that nothing go wrong in the first place. But for what it had been worth–even the struggle of a young Sharon Rainsworth couldn’t seem to tame the man & his wardrobe when it came to looking coordinated.
Contrast from Emily’s starlight essence, the man had been wrapped in soot slacks & off-white coat, adorning that of faded gold buttons & his very own Pandora pendent wore loosely at his neck. This evening calling for something a bit more than his usual tie–a deep violet flayed bow sat inches from his chin, for never shall the Hatter be without his own shade of purple or else he just wouldn’t be true.
“ It is quite the decoration, isn’t it? “ his voice remedies that of the fallen silence as youthful eyes take in the castle-like interior. His own scarlet gaze examining the waves of people both in & still entering that of the ballroom hall. Familiar faces that were of relief to see, be it just for a night–as others tend to favor a lot less of welcome. Hum.
Honestly—it was such a poor time for his greed to pry. A sudden need to examine closer–would she have been interested in attending such things from the other side?–as if proving himself wrong for his misjudge of character. A single prance around the room would have been plenty to settle his curiosity, no?
“ —Mm? I know quite a few here, those who have lost & survived. Be it as it may, this town has had its’ fair means of sacrifice. It is only on the rare chances such as these are we able to thank them, “ he explains, attention settling softly upon the blonde as he gave wrapped arm a single pat. “ No need to be shy here, for your chances of never seeing these people again are roughly fifty-fifty. They cannot harm you, even if they tried. “
—Not if he had anything to say about it.
Wait, who was the KNIGHT again–?
questioning arched up from her brow--- an expression of confusion and bafflement over his spoken truth. those who have lost & survived. she knew not the meaning. for she had never lived nor breathed in the time of the baskervilles. nor heard tell of the oddities they possessed. too young was she, and too full of folly as she clasped the abyss’s hand without even giving it name.
“lost? you mean to say that the dead may walk amongst the living here?” a rather difficult concept to grasp for one so unaccustomed to such things. clearly, break was well versed in the matter.
simple pressure against narrow limb, and yet it was oddly comforting. for in this moment, she nearly falls back. subconsciously adjusting her gait to follow HIS lead. noble breeding overtaking youthful pride. she was the lady sinclair again for this instance.
curious eyes begin to wander about every face in the crowd. and she finds herself searching again, for him. for them. for anyone she could recognize living or dead.
“I don’t think they’re here.”
