Pulling Off Butteryfly Wings
By
Larpskendya
Prologue
The moon shone brightly through her window as she stood on the balcony, her head tilted upwards, heart beating fast, lips pouting, kissing the wind. It danced around her, teasing her, a playmate, a soul mate. She allowed its soothing coolness to ease her headache which faded slowly like a bad dream. She shivered a little, enjoying the tingling feeling on her skin before she decided that she'd better go inside.
Her bedroom suited her. No. That was a lie. Her bedroom was what other people expected to suit her. A large bed with red silken sheets and dozens of pillows. The air carried a hint of expensive perfume. Her closet was an enormous affair, filled with shoes and dresses. Scarlet did what was expected of her. Nobody could say that she did not fulfill her requirements.
She inspected herself in her mirror which stretched from the ceiling to the floor. Tonight she had to go to another one of the president's "little" parties where she would be expected to flirt, primp and…do what was expected of her. She gazed at her dress. It was red. It would always be red. It wasn't her usual halter-neck-one-slit-going-up-the-side dress though. There was a big difference. This little beauty had two slits, one on each side of the dress, dancing up, up, up until it stopped at each hip. Thin, silken spaghetti straps hung limply off of each slim shoulder and the dress clung tightly to each supple curve, flowing but not puffing out. Oh yes. This number would certainly be turning a few heads, despite the fact that she was freezing and would be as uncomfortable as hell. She put on a pair of elegant, crimson shoes complete with stiletto heels and stood up, wincing as her feet filed a complaint to her brain. She hung a thin silver chain with a single diamond hanging on the end around her slender neck, absent-mindedly sprayed perfume in a few select places and then downed the three shot glasses that never left her dressing table. She then ran a brush through her newly washed, freshly dyed hair, gave herself a impish grin in the mirror, thus completing her mask and hurried out of her apartment.
Heads always turned when Scarlet entered a room. She assailed all senses, smiling ruthlessly at all the men, her sharp blue eyes analyzing every situation. She dominated the scene yet made everyone involved believe that they were actually the ones who were in control. Tonight was no exception. Scarlet smiled the smile of a saint, her eyes glinting like a devil's whilst she flitted about the room like a butterfly, dancing with her victims, captivating them and them pushing them away when she spotted a more suitable suitor.
She stalked through the dancers, secretly sneering at the women who started enviously after her. They stood out against the men, frosted peacocks laced with diamonds but she was dressed as a living flame. Men turned away from their fiancées to stare at her suggestively swaying hips but she sauntered past, oblivious to their presence. She went straight towards her goal.
"President Shinra," she smiled, holding out an elegant hand, painted crimson. He took it and kissed it whilst she disguised her disgust. Her hand withdrew and she resisted the urge to surreptitiously wipe it against her dress.
"Scarlet, so glad you could come. I was wondering if you've met my son, Rufus?" the president replied. Scarlet smiled mischievously at the vice-president who met her ice blue gaze unflinchingly.
"No, we have not. I believe you live in Junon," she inquired, giving him her hand as well. His lips brushed it briefly before he pulled back.
"Yes," he answered abruptly, too bored to bother with giving full answers. Scarlet knew how to deal with this.
"I wonder if you would care to dance."
Three hours later and Scarlet walked over to the bar, trying her best not to limp. She had danced non-stop, not only with the president's whelp but with countless others. She had enchanted them all. They could only watch as she spun and twirled gracefully into their arms before twisting away into another's embrace.
Now, her feet were throbbing, her headache had come back with a vengeance and she needed something to numb the pain. She sat down on a stool and attracted the bartender's eye instantly. He walked over.
"Something I can get you?" he asked. She smiled prettily.
"Give me something stiff." Her voice clipped. Sharp. Deadly.
He nodded and turned away before coming back to place the concoction in front of her. She took the ice cold glass and pressed it against her forehead. When that no longer helped her head she allowed the burning liquid to ripple down her throat hoping that it would reach her feet. Only once she had finished two-thirds of the glass did she look up to see who was sitting next to her.
He looked just like every other man in the room, wearing a dry-cleaned tuxedo and a bored expression. His hair, though he tried so hard to tame it back was slightly ruffled and his dark eyes looked sadly into the distance. She smiled at him, white teeth flashing.
"Hello Reeve."
He turned around and gave her a fleeting smile in return although she couldn't be sure whether it truly was a smile or a grimace. It had been so quick that now she wasn't even sure if it had ever been there. He turned away from her to order a glass of water. She tried to attract his attention again.
"Only water, Reeve? Don't you want something a little stronger?" she asked, her voice slightly husky. He frowned slightly and shook his head, eyeing her drink with distaste.
"If I got drunk we'd soon be seeing some very interesting buildings around Midgar. No, I'll stick to water."
Scarlet placed her hand over his, her smile still intact. "But this is a party, Reeve. Surely you need to have a little fun once in a while?"
Reeve sighed and pulled his hand away. "No. I still have a lot of work to do. I intend to go back to my office after the president has finished his speech."
As if on cue, the music stopped and the president stood up to give his seemingly heartfelt speech, telling them what good workers they were, what valuable assets to the company they must surely be, what good they were doing for the people of Midgar. Scarlet tried to keep the look of disgust from her pretty face and she watched Reeve stifle a yawn. Finally, the president stepped down and the music started up again. Reeve drained the last of his water and stood up to go. Scarlet was a trifle stunned. Here was a perfectly ordinary, red-blooded male who was ignoring her! Surely the apocalypse was nigh!
"Reeve! Don't go!" she said, her voice sultry. He stopped to look at her and she smiled.
"Is it important, Scarlet? I have a lot of work to do," he said, as if talking to an immature child. Her smile nearly faded but with remarkable self-control, she pinned it to her face like a butterfly.
Ah, what the hell, she though. She was buzzed, she was alone, he was not unattractive and she never turned down a challenge. She too stood up.
"Would you please dance with me?" she asked him, eyes pleading, mouth pouting. She could see his resolve weakening.
"Well, I don't have much time…"
Yes…
"Please? It won't take long," she murmured and he held out a hand which she took lightly in her own.
They stood on the dance floor, her eagerly, him reluctantly. The next song started and she was in his arms, surprised at how firm they felt. He was a competent dancer, she noted, but he was mechanical. It was if he was merely going through the motions. Her feet forgotten, she threw herself into the music, not noticing the envious heads that turned their way, not noticing one of the violinists falter as he too, looked upon her graceful maneuvers. She was only aware of Reeve's face and Reeve's reactions. He anticipated her every move, bringing her close, but not too close, or sending her twirling into the void before bringing her back. Her pulse raced madly as the music stopped, disappointment flooding her body. Still, maybe she had entranced him enough for one more dance, maybe a little tête-à-tête…
"Now I really have to go," said Reeve. She recoiled a little but held out a hand.
At least I'll get a kiss, she thought desperately. He took her hand and shook it hurriedly before walking out, leaving her shattered on the dance floor. She turned around. There were plenty of men still needing her attention but she felt a little drained.
"Perhaps I should get some rest," she thought, placing a hand to her now aching head and walking from the room.
Reeve walked quickly to his office, thankful to get away from Scarlet the Harlot. She was so overpowering, so domineering. Not that he didn't like that in a woman but he didn't like her so that only made the matter worse. He sometimes wondered just exactly how she had gotten to the top of the Weapon Development Department. She looked like she had never broken a single crimson nail in her entire life. Of course, appearances could be deceiving but…
He reached his office and sat down, staring bleakly at the monstrous heaps of paperwork. If one of them were to collapse he would surely be smothered. He could just see the headlines: SECRETARY OF URBAN DEVELOPMENT KILLED IN FREAK PAPERWORK ACCIDENT. ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT? Maybe the Higher-Ups were trying to kill him after all…
Reeve laughed and sat down, preparing himself for a long night's work. Midgar depended on him. Without those reactors in working condition the city would have no power. Still, as he started to type furiously, he could help but wish that he had stayed for one last dance…
Hope that this was okay. I'm not sure how good I'll be at writing this sort of fic but I'll give it a try. I'd appreciate any feedback, suggestions and so on so PLEASE review! Oh, this takes place a while before AVALANCHE blows up the reactor. I'll try to post again soon. Cheers!
