1Chapter One: Feathered Mask/A New Face
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The fact that this is, in fact, a fanfiction, makes the possibility very strong that a few characters have been derived from other stories.
"Masquerade, paper faces on parade! Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you!"
He fully regretted the bright red costume he had worn, for the attention it drew. All the more so for the fiery words, "do not touch me! I am Red Death stalking abroad," emblazoned on his cape. More and more people thought of him as some attraction, darting forward to lay hands on him and whip off his mask. He put them each in their right place, but it was tiring. He turned a corner, still searching for that elusive Christine. A black domino caught his attention and he knew he had found her from the locks of dark brown curls streaming down her back. He spun his cape to one side, giving chase. Here! There! Gone! He nearly dashed his mask to the floor in frustration, if only to scare the living hell out of the party-goers.
Then he spotted the mask.
It was half-faced and all black and white, like the rest of the masks at the event. An explosion of feathers and ribbons burst from a jewel in the top, dancing around the face and woven through gentle curls of blonde hair. The stone was probably a rhinestone but it was to good effect. He let his eyes drift over the beautiful and intricate designs sparkling out of the mask, the lovely effect they had on the bright blue eyes.
He stared into the eyes though they weren't watching him. They were off somewhere else. They were huge, the brightest blue he could imagine, set with long, lovely, black eyelashes. The curve of the eyelid to the almond-shape of the actual eye was dramatic and was the most striking effect he had ever seen in a masked face.
Below the mask and the eyes was a well-shaped face with cheekbones round enough to hold the mask perfectly in place, complimented by a set of red, round and pouty lips. The edges of the lips curved upward in a wry sort of smile, causing the skin below the mask to buckle slightly and dramatize her sculpted face to the extreme. Then she turned her head in his direction.
He looked away quickly, but he could feel her eyes still resting on him, probably alight with wonder and curiosity. Why couldn't his presence excite Christine like that?
A gentle touch on his shoulder and he turned to meet the questioning eyes of the girl in the feathered mask. His heart skipped a beat when he looked into those huge blue eyes and his gaze was returned. A young man stood by her side, probably a peasant. She smiled and curtseyed to him, her pretty lips curling upward in a merry grin.
He looked deep into her eyes, confused as to why she would approach him. "Beware," he hissed, not really meaning it.
A delicate tinkle of a laugh rippled from her throat and she laid a tantalizing hand on his shoulder. "Indeed, sir. Beware of what, might I ask?"
He grinned fiendishly at her, sweeping his cape slightly as he took a step forward, snatching hold of the hand that was touching him. "Do not touch me," he hissed.
She smiled at him. "For you are Red Death stalking abroad! Yes, I know sir. Would you favor me a dance?"
He started, taking a step back and releasing her. He looked at her from an angle, turning away slightly. "You are not from here."
"I'm here with my brother; Will. We're from the Caribbean, actually. He's just been married and is here on his honeymoon with his darling bride; Rose." She tilted her head back, showing a touch of her face that was hidden beneath the mask.
He nodded, taking a step back and striking his Red Death pose. "And I suppose you're looking for a bit of male entertainment yourself? Being a younger sister with your older brother married."
"Oh, no! Actually, I'm the wild one in the family. Father always favored me because I like to stay with him on the ship." She tilted her head back down, tucking her chin into her collar and letting her eyes wander around.
She has the attention span of an ADD squirrel in a nut factory, he thought, watching her. She was an odd girl, but he was strangely attracted to her. He held out a hand to her, a weird smile playing across his face. "You desire a dance, madam?"
She grinned winningly and took his head with an eager nod. "Yes! I don't know how to dance very well, though. Daddy never taught me too thoroughly. It was always aunt Lizzie and uncle William who had to teach me how to dance when I was with them. In fact, one time--"
He reached forward and laid a finger over her lips, the smile smoothing and broadening a bit. "Enough! Come, simply follow my lead and try not to step on my toes."
She giggled, laying a thin but weathered hand over her lips to muffle them a bit. "Alright!"
He led her to the dance floor, putting one hand on her waist and taking the other. She frowned and took his hand, pausing and wondering a bit with the other. He leaned forward and whispered, "my shoulder!" into her ear. She grinned and did so with an air of success, just in time for the music to pick up.
He found himself dancing with her in sweeping motions, flowing with the music that was playing as well as if he had written it. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the moment. For that moment, he was happy. When he opened his eyes he met the bright, curious ones of the younger girl.
She smiled at him, tightening her grip on his shoulder a bit as she struggled to keep up with the pace of the music. "My name is Sarah! Sarah Renee Sparrow."
He tilted his head back and contemplated her for a moment. "My name is Erik," he finally said.
She nodded. "I knew a pirate named Eric!"
"No," he shook his head, "not Eric. Erik!"
She frowned. "But-- where is the difference between the two?"
"I am Erik with a K, not a C."
"How are you even able to tell?"
He smiled at her in high humor. "There are a lot of things about me that confuse most people. Let us say that the accent you pronounced when you named Eric was different than that when you would Erik."
She shook her head in mock despair. "No! I'll never get it! I'm a failure!"
He smiled gently. "No, you're not."
The music slowed to a dramatic pace, the two of them engaging in a closer dance. Erik twirled Sarah enthusiastically then drew her to him, running a hand up her back to slide across her neck. Her masked face was only a few centimeters from his and he could feel her breath on his neck. He spun her out, catching her and sweeping her around and close to him again, ducking so that their bodies were pressed together.
She looked up, him holding her securely from collapsing in a heap of fancy clothes and mask feathers. She heaved a tiny sigh of delight. He was so strong! He grinned and pulled her back up, their faces so close. His hands were on her waist and her arms were around his shoulders.
He sighed and spun her again, stopping her for another invigorating lull in dancing to be closer to her than he had ever gotten to Christine . . . while she was awake. He ran a hand down to her leg and pulled it up, looking into her eyes as gently as possible. The death mask probably ruined everything.
A flash of black domino distracted him, making him look away and almost drop his partner. Christine! He looked around wildly, knowing she had to be somewhere. Then something grabbed his shoulder and squeezed with surprising strength. He glanced at his partner, then engaged in the dance with her again.
She frowned at him, laying a hand on his shoulder as the dance slowed again. "Who are you looking for?"
He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. "No one."
"Not true!" She laughed, teasing him. "Eri' is looking for someone, but who?!"
He frowned at her. "Did you just call me airy?"
"No, it's just easier to say. Do you mind, Eri'?"
He shrugged. "I suppose not. I'm not used to people even calling me by my name, much less by a nick-name. It's almost distracting."
A drawling voice cut through their conversation. "Oi! Sarah, come on now! Back to the ship."
Sarah let go of Erik and took a step back, curtseying unsteadily to him. "I'm sorry, that's my father. I must be going. We're actually to set sail in a few days, so he doesn't want me out that late. Goodnight, monsieur Eri'." She smiled charmingly, then turned on her heel and in a whirl of skirts as gone.