#1875.start

    The last time Basil had attended a ball of any kind, he’d been a married man; and before even that, always secured as taken in some way. When your parents decide a match when you were fifteen, it tends to happen; and though Basil stands on the sidelines once more a taken man, it feels so fresh, undiscovered, and new in a way... enough to make a man usually seeping with confidence feeling quite like a fish out of water. 

   It seemed that the safest zone of participation, for now, would be the small sitting chairs & lounges placed just off from where couples danced. Lightly populated, a stand of drinks nearby; it was involved yet removed, just as Basil hoped to be. Taking a seat on a lavishly plush two-seater, he dipped his head in a greeting. “Do you mind if I take this seat? I am waiting for someone to arrive, and honestly, I don’t know how long it has been since I have attended one of these things.”

setting: social ball

Regina scanned the crowded ballroom, lazily fanning herself in a vain attempt to stave off the heat of too many bodies in a small space. This ball was felt like being a debutante again - Paraded about, cinched and pinched and prodded. The gray of her half-mourning gown felt weightier than the white of her presentation dresses had; Weightier, even, than her wedding gown. She felt marked out as different from the others twirling around her with abandon, which, she supposed, was the point of mourning someone. Or pretending to, at least.

She reached to accept a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, offering a smile of thanks before becoming aware of something in the corner of her eye. She turned to see someone who she thought might have spoken, and she directed her smile at them.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “You were saying?”