Everyone plays a part, and mine is a sad one.
The mirror reflects on my outside, the powdered mask to the stylized hairstyle, and the intricate dress that screams wealth and fortune.
The delicate golden clock hand ticks away, indicating the time. 5:30. Rather early, but I didn't mind. It was also rather pretty too. The sky, a hazy dull blue tinged with orange red foretells the future sunrise at its tips, but enjoys its time now by lighting up the world with a misty blue light. Thin pale pink clouds wrinkled, and the sun steadily worked its orange light, trying to steal over the scene, it's bright shadows peeking over the rooftops.
It was a rather beautiful morning, one I couldn't stay inside for. I lifted the wobbly train of the heavy red velvet dress, and I pushed open the cold glass door that led to my rose infested balcony, high heels click clacking against marble. The cool morning air hits me crisp and hard, my skin roughening already by the exposure, despite the long flaring sleeves I'm wearing. I rest a hand on the dew covered beam. The suns waking up now, it's light shining and spreading, warming everyone with its touch.
The curls tickle the back of my neck as a wind sweeps by, loosening them a bit and I can feel the sapphire pin ive attached to it won't hold in this weather. I'd have to opt for something different. Maybe that peacock feather with the pearls fastened to it? That'd be pretty. But then, the red dress I don won't really match, the designs and colors don't set each other off.
Lace makes itself a nuisance, tickling and scratching against my skin. It's always been so pretty though, the exquisite petal design had always enchanted me with it's fragility.
"Annabelle? Annabelle where are you?" A familiar, sing song voice floats by, and I turn away from the entrancing sunrise to smile at my little sister.
Arabella, with her glittering blue eyes that smiled with kindness even when she was angry, long wavy brown hair that was nearly up to her waist and aura that was worth more than any ruby, chucked deeply when she saw me by the sunset.
"You do love nature, don't you Annabelle?" She said, flashing her pearly white teeth at me. Today she was wearing a pale blue dress that had been , then flared out. Lace and ruffles dipped up and down, the mint green bow in the back dragging about, making a nuisance of itself. Dark blue flower designs had been etched in here and there in teeny tiny thread along with a golden leaf design to intertwine with it. The skirt was full and gathered in the back, the train gliding smooth along the shiny wooden floor. She wore a hat, a very nice hat that sprouted a single stark white feather and grew out of the dark blue velvet, her dark brown hair braided and trailing behind it. Ears, neck, hands and wrists clad with jewelry, with that beautiful smile as a bonus, even the King couldn't resist her beauty.
As usual, Arabella shames me with her beauty. I have the same sparkling blue eyes, yes, but my hair is dreaded curly, leaving not much to do with it. Golden, but curly. My figure isn't her delicate frame, her gentle and sweet ways, polite manners, shy nature, and everything just makes her perfect.
Usually I'd hope and pray my make-up were good enough so that she may not see me truly green, but today it just saddens me to see her so gracefully beautiful. I rest a hand on the marble balcony and sigh, a useless hopeless sigh that'd change nothing. Arabella didnt notice, and I picked a blooming pink rose, the dew clinging onto it.
She was so fancied up today, because today she was leaving. Forever. For her husband, who was a soldier but now come the days when he puts away the gun and spends his time with her and their soon family.
Whether she loved him or not was unknown to everyone, but I knew the real answer. She didnt love him. The only thing she loved was a quiet corner somewhere, with a red quill dripping with ink on a heavy parchment, waiting for worlds to be unleashed. She only married him because Father wished so. And it kills her every day.
And yet she smiles, and laughs so no one may notice her silent agony. It's not as if they'd care. It was her duty to do such things like this.
She's smiling now, and I'm smiling back. A maid has sent up tea, and we're no longer at the balcony but in my room, at my antique ebony table chatting and sipping tea.
The teapot and teacups are flower-splattered, elegant designs of bouquets. My silver spoon clangs against the golden rim with an awful sound, and the golden brown substance within isn't ready yet. I've always enjoyed tea, but making it was a great flea to my dog!
Arabella chats on laughing, plunking sugar cubes in the brown mixture and smiling still. It's a fake, mockery, a mask. Clever one, but a mask all the same. I go along. Everyone in this social class learns how to lie adequately.
When the golden hand ticks to a 12, he comes and she's gone, forever. She won't even be here on gatherings and such, chains and laws would bind her will, forcing it down.
It's selfish of me, but I wish you would stay with me forever. You're too good of a person to die alive right now. Everyone else is gone. Not you, please?