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Post by rosalind on Dec 18, 2008 8:27:59 GMT 1
Rosalind didn't even know why she'd elected to come to this stupid ball! She was rather limited when it came to dancing because of her inability to see; likely she'd take someone's eye out by accident if she began to writhe and whirl on the floor. Yet, here she was, fashioned into a dainty counterfeit of Cinderella with the help of a certain pink haired Gryffindor. Lovely had insisted she could make her gorgeous and so, with seeming nonchalance, she accepted. And even though she couldn't see herself Rosalind was satisfied with the variety of compliments she'd received from various, random peers to which she'd bow her head bashingly at. The glass shoes made it rather difficult to walk and Rosalind hoped she didn't look as awkward as she felt; that would be rather embarrassing!
With a deep breath she entered the Great Hall; greeted by the sound of many tapping feet and excited chatting. She'd have to go this alone since it would have been unfair to ask Knotty, her trusty feline companion, to come along; the risk of being stepped on by unsuspecting students was far too high for Rosalind's liking. Knotty was getting up in her years and being stepped on definitely wouldn't be good for the cat's health. With the surroundings changed so drastically to dress for the Ball she was almost certain she couldn't go by her usual method of counting her steps to various familiar structures; there would be none tonight and Rosalind hadn't brought a cane either. The girl was so severely and stubbornly insistent on fitting in as normally as everyone else that she'd purposely left it in the Gryffindor dorm. Now she wished she'd brought it with her...
With a sigh she backed tentatively against the wall; her palms sliding against the cool, rough bricks. She typically looked like an all-too-common wallflower but until she found someone she knew or a table of some sorts to sit down at this is where she would stay; hovering nervously near the entrance.
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Post by Scotty Kovac on Dec 18, 2008 16:38:12 GMT 1
Ahh once again it was time for the ball, something Scott had been looking forward to for weeks now. Somehow, for once the boy had kept his mouth shut about what his costume was going to be. Proudly he stepped through the heavy wooden doors and into the Great Hall. A few passersby he knew complemented on his 1920’s themed outfit making Scott’s ego swell with confidence. Already tonight was getting off to a good start, he’d almost forgotten that he’d come alone and that the girl he really longed to dance with was hanging off James Potter’s arm.
Scott sighed, shaking his head. Being jealous of James would only ruin his night. There were plenty of girls here who needed dates and Ame had promised him a dance later so everything was good. Not letting thoughts of Amelia Pace distract him; Scott scanned the wall for someone to dance with and couldn’t help but beam as he spotted the perfect partner.
Full of new found confidence he strode purposefully to Rosalind and was just about to bow when he remembered that she was blind and wouldn’t be able to see his gentlemanly gesture. Instead he coughed to announce his presence and gently took her hand. “May I have this dance mi’lady?” he asked as princely as he could, after all she was Cinderella, or was she just a princess? A thought occurred to him that she might not even know who he was. He was two years above her and definitely didn’t socialize with the fith years.
Scott thought for a moment, maybe being anonymous to her would be fun, he would be the mysterious stranger with the weird accent that had asked her to dance. Inwardly he laughed, it sounded like something from one of the muggle fairytales his mother used to read him.
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Post by rosalind on Dec 18, 2008 21:09:33 GMT 1
Rosalind was about to turn back; green with envy of the people that could actually see the splendor that she so vividly sensed around her. She was surprised when a warm hand gently captured hers and a faux accented masculine voice asked her for a dance. The mysterious stranger wanted to dance with her? It seemed rude to refuse, even if she didn't fancy dancing all the much, and so she smiled; though it looked more like a sardonic grimace. "Do you really want to risk the welfare of your feet?" She countered and blinked her useless eyes as she briefly adjusted her silver mask. It could do little to hide her identity; not when she was infamously known as the blind girl. It was quite obvious once you looked into her eyes; slightly unfocused; if you hadn't already noticed the hesitation in each of her steps.
Rosalind was curious as to who this boy was at this point. The tone of his voice was familiar; his scent recognizable to her sensitive nose as well but she couldn't place it. "Who are you?" It was a blunt question but for Rosalind it was something she'd ask daily if she couldn't place the people with her other acute senses. With a sigh she stepped forward and allowed the stranger to take her in his arms; slightly nervous about dancing. He'd have to be her eyes and she really hoped this wasn't a cruel joke of some sorts. With her surroundings changed it would be almost useless to try and defend herself. She supposed she could depend on Lovely to come to her rescue, if the girl wasn't too absorbed in her date.
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Post by Scotty Kovac on Dec 19, 2008 1:58:00 GMT 1
Unfazed at her apparent grimace, Scott laughed lightly at her counter.
“I’m sure my feet will be fine,” he chuckled, finding the Croatian accent was for once overpowering the Irish, probably from spending the summer in Dubrovnik. To be honest the boy wasn’t entirely sure what he was getting himself into and he couldn’t imagine what Rosalind was thinking. He was a stranger and how did she know he didn’t have more than dancing on his mind?
Those thoughts then and there almost made him stop and tell her who he was but he decided against it. Instead Scott willed his tone of voice to tell her he sincerely wanted to dance with her. Tenderly he guided her to take hold of one of his arms and gently led her to where they’d have more room. He wasn’t at all surprised when Rosalind finally asked rather bluntly who he was. Not willing to give up the tantalisingly exciting feeling he got from being what he thought was mystifying, Scott remained silent for a moment to ponder his answer.
“I’m from your house but that’s all I’m going to say,” he cheerfully answered. It was a simple answer but it might have given away too much already. “You look beautiful by the way,” a quick change of subject to hopefully distract her from something as unimportant as his identity. Although the comment was a distraction, Scott had meant every word. Indeed the girl looked extremely beautiful. The light of the candles shimmered off her blue dress making her skin look as if it was glowing, her hair smelt amazing and her makeup was perfect, and had the distinct style that could usually be seen on a certain pink haired Gryffindor.
The older Gryffindor frowned at himself for thinking about makeup, it wasn’t something straight guys did and he was pretty sure he wasn’t gay. As the two of them swayed together with the music Scott thought about the situation. The more he thought about it the more it became just like a fairytale. The prince in most stories was nameless and either swept the princess of the story off her feet or she swept him off his feet. Scotty wasn’t sure what was happening tonight but for now he was happy to think he was the nameless prince sweeping the princess off her feet.
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Post by rosalind on Dec 28, 2008 5:42:11 GMT 1
Ah so he wanted to remain a mystery; a game for her to guess. Rosalind would figure it out eventually, being the smart cookie she was but first she'd have to cunning trick him into dropping more information. "So you're a Gryffindor; you sound young...fourth or fifth year, perhaps?" She asked slyly, hoping he'd take the bait and let slip what year he was in. A teenage boy never liked it when you mistook them for a boy when they could be considered a man. They liked their egos fluffed so perhaps the mysterious stranger would jump to protect himself.
Rosalind felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment when the masculine voice told her she looked beautiful. Her, beautiful? She wouldn't know... but it felt nice to have someone compliment her nonetheless, to have that reassurance that she wasn't horribly disfigured in some way. After her eyes had been cursed she wasn't sure what kind of damage had been done to her face but she'd been told there were only a couple very faint scars. She could recall having dark brown hair and deep blue eyes; but Lovely had told her that they weren't a deep blue anymore - rather pale and glistening with tears. Leave it to Ms. Knight to be brutally honest with her but she'd rather that than having the truth fabricated to make her feel better.
As they danced she swayed tentatively; unsure of her surroundings and only able to depend on a stranger for reassurance. "Thank you." She said slowly, awkwardly in response to his compliment. She wasn't sure how to take it. This was all mystifying... slightly romantic and fairytales never happened to her... not to people like her.
Rosalind Sweet didn't believe in her own Happily Ever After.
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