it wasn’t hard to spot elizabeth in the crowd, body dripping in blue tulle and cascading flowers. she stood at the edge of the dance floor, entranced by the scene around her, eyes closing every so often as she danced. she’d twirl and gravity would soon pull the skirt of her dress to follow, svelte arms gracefully raising in the air. if you were standing behind her you’d spot the flower petals that had been nestled into her hair, a few falling around her every so often as she moved, a tree merely rustled by the wind. and if you were in front of her—well, you couldn’t miss her smile, beaming across the space. heavily highlighted cheekbones shone when the flickering light hit them, eyes too dotted with tiny buds, but her lips. they contained a rare type of joy. an undoubtedly genuine one. elizabeth was, simply put, in her element—tapping into someone else. as contradictory as it were. even if it were subtle, even if it were hardly noticeable, it filled her with relief. for the next however many hours she was strapped with two identities, not enough room for the fullness of her day-to-day self. suffice it to say, she’d given into the theatrics of it all.
as she moved at the edge of the crowd, alone and entirely comfortable with the fact, she thanked herself for deciding against donning fairy wings. there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that they would’ve been bent or torn off by now. almost subconsciously, she looked over her shoulder at where they would’ve obstructed her view, catching someone’s eye. “hey!,” she called, turning to fully face them, dress echoing the same sweeping motion it’d been making during her earlier twirls. “i think this event requires at least one dance from each person. consider it an offering—or the sole request of the queen of the fairies.” a chuckle left her as she extended a hand.
